Page 59 of A Match Made In Fall

The room falls quiet for a moment.

“Anyway,” I say. “I’m going to get ready. I’m going to think positively--today is going to be a good day.”

“Wow,” Sammy says. “Your whole energy is so different than it was a month ago.”

I smile. “Honestly, I feel like I’m finally coming out of a dark tunnel.”

“Is that because your foot is getting better,” Sammy asks, “or because of a certain six-foot-three hockey star?”

I laugh.

Honestly? It’s a fair question.

“Maybe a little of both,” I admit. “And on that note, I’m hitting the showers.”

Sammy snorts. “That sounds like hockey lingo to me.”

I roll my eyes as I head toward the bathroom, but she has a point. Truthfully, everything feels different lately. My confidence and outlook have changed. Plus, I wonder if getting the extra closure with Dex lifted a weight I’d been carrying for the last year. And Austin has absolutely played a huge role in this shift too. Somewhere along the way, he reminded me what it feels like to look forward to things again and to find joy in every situation.

The tears are falling before I can stop them. I’m sitting in the examination room staring down at my bare leg. The boot is off. I’m officially free, and for some reason I feel like with the boot came the huge release of other emotions. The appointment couldn't have gone any better.

When Doctor Kemp told me I was officially graduating from the walking boot, a rush of feelings I’d been holding back for months came to the surface. It’s an odd mix of relief, joy, excitement, and panic.

There was no way to stop myself from bursting into tears. I’m sure he wasn’t expecting me to throw my arms around him or sob on his shoulder, but after everything this injury has taken from me, I couldn’t help it.

Of course, this isn’t the end of recovery.

Doctor Kemp quickly reminded me that there’s still a long road ahead. I will have months of physical therapy, rebuilding strength, regaining mobility and balance. I will have to retrain and put in the work to get back to where I was. Not to mention the collection of ugly supportive shoes and some heel lift things. It’s going to take time and patience—which is something I’ve never been good at.

But even with all the instructions and work ahead, I couldn’t be happier. For months, the progress felt slow and at times like I would never reach these big milestones. And now, here I am. I still don’t have a timeline for returning to full activity, but for the first time in a while, that doesn’t bother me.

As soon as I leave the exam room, I sit in a chair in the waiting area and pull out my phone. I have so many people to contact. My friend Natalia, Elise, my instructors, my family, and Austin.

He’s the first person I text.

I’m boot free. I’m so happy I cried on the doctor’s shoulder. Hope your day is going okay.

I hit send even though I still haven’t received a reply from my earlier text. Not that it’s surprising because he warned me today would be brutal.

After last night’s ugly loss, the coaching staff was expected to have plenty to say. According to Austin, that usually meant a long day of watching clips, an extra-long practice, and intense conditioning drills. Obviously, he was dreading every second of it.

I send a few more messages letting everyone know that the boot is history, and I’m one step closer to returning home. After I type the words, I feel another rush of emotion. Is it possible to want to be two places at once? As anxious as I am to get back to my life, a part of me hates the thought of leaving my family—and Austin.

“A Halloween party sounds fun. Count me in,” I exclaim.

I’m stretched out on the living room floor, playing with Jude while Sammy and my mom fill me in on their shopping trip. Somehow, since this morning the shopping trip has evolved into planning a full-blown Halloween party, complete with decorations, a menu, and a guest list. The planning is already underway, and some evites have been sent.

“You and Austin should do matching costumes,” my mom suggests, speaking as though we've been together for years. “You are inviting him, right?”

“I’ll ask if he’s available,” I tell her. “They might have a game that night.”

“They don’t,” my mom says smugly. “We already checked.”

I glance at Sammy, who shrugs innocently. I don’t believe for a second that she isn’t a part of this grand idea.

“You checked the Bears schedule before picking the date for the party?”

“Of course we did,” my mom says with a laugh. “We’re not amateurs.”