Page 88 of The Callahan Effect

JACK

Five days after Mason's surgery, Dr. Juneau finally discharged him.

Although she'd already warned us repeatedly that the muscles surrounding his hip would continue healing long after the incision itself looked healthy, she seemed satisfied with every examination she performed that morning. His concussion symptoms had resolved completely, the surgical wound looked exactly as she'd hoped, and the physical therapist declared he was walking well enough to continue rehabilitation outside the hospital. The moment she handed Mason his discharge papers, the restlessness that had been building inside him since the second day after surgery disappeared beneath obvious relief.

Hospitals served a purpose but they weren't places anyone wanted to stay longer than absolutely necessary.

Watching the orderly wheel Mason through the hospital's main entrance felt strangely symbolic. Less than a week earlier I'd followed the same path behind his stretcher, terrified I might never hear him laugh again. Now the automatic doors opened onto bright autumn sunshine as the orderly stopped beside my car. Mason stood carefully, thanked him, and eased himself into the passenger seat.

I climbed behind the wheel, started the engine, and glanced across at him.

He was going home.

The university had already approved temporary changes to our accommodation after Dad explained Mason couldn't realistically manage alone during the early stages of recovery without doing further damage. My belongings had been transferred into his dorm room while we were still at the hospital, leaving only the small task of unpacking them once we arrived back on campus. It felt strangely natural seeing my clothes hanging beside his and my medical textbooks sharing shelf space with hockey manuals and kinesiology texts. Neither of us mentioned how significant the arrangement actually was. We simply accepted it as another step that made perfect sense.

The following morning brought another farewell none of us particularly wanted.

Richard and Victoria had delayed returning to Florida for as long as their professional responsibilities allowed, but Richard had a corporate merger worth hundreds of millions of dollars waiting for his attention, while Victoria already had operating lists filled with patients whose surgeries had been scheduled months in advance. Neither wanted to leave Spokane, yet both knew their son no longer needed frightened parents sitting beside a hospital bed throughout the night. Mason was healing well, surrounded by people who cared deeply about him, and under the care of doctors they trusted completely.

Even so, saying goodbye wasn't easy.

Victoria held Mason carefully for several long moments before stepping back just far enough to study his face, reminding him for what felt like the tenth time that following instructions during recovery mattered far more than returning to hockey as quickly as possible.

Richard was little different. His advice carried fewer words, but the concern behind every one of them was unmistakable. They'd spent almost a week watching their only child fight through surgery and recovery. Leaving him behind, even knowing he was improving every day, went against every parental instinct they possessed.

Before climbing into the waiting town car, Richard turned his attention toward me.

The gratitude in his expression appeared long before I unlocked my phone.

I'll look after him. I promise.

He read the screen before resting one hand firmly against my shoulder.

"I know you will."

Victoria nodded in agreement.

"We couldn't leave him in better hands."

I swallowed against the unexpected emotion tightening my throat.

I'll video call every couple of days so you can see how he's doing yourselves.

The relief on both their faces answered before either of them spoke.

"We'd like that very much," Victoria admitted quietly.

Corey stood a few steps behind them, his backpack already slung over one shoulder. Unlike Richard and Victoria, he wasn't returning to work. Engineering lectures waited for him back in Florida, and after missing almost a week of classes, he couldn't reasonably stay any longer. He also had hockey to get back to.

The awkwardness that had surrounded us after Mason came out to him had disappeared completely during the days we'd spent together at the hospital, replaced once again by the easy friendship I'd always suspected existed beneath the shock and hurt.

Corey hugged Mason carefully, taking obvious care not to jar his healing hip.

"No more ending up in hospital."

Mason grinned.

"I'll do my best."