Page 77 of The Do-Over Girl

The shriek of pain in my shoulder, like it’s on fire, takes all my attention. “Fuck. It’s dislocated.” I reach with my other arm and grit my teeth, then shove my arm back in its socket before anyone knows what I’m doing, before they yell at me.

“What the fuck, Nash. What are you doing?”

“Did you hear that snap?” Archie says. “Shit.”

“Oh my God, that looked fucking painful,” someone else says.

I look around at the guys surrounding me; Archie, O’Rourke, and Spencer stand out. I say, “Get me out of here.” And they do, somehow helping me up without touching that arm or shoulder, which still hurts like a son of a bitch, but not half as bad now that it’s back in the socket. We get to the locker room, and Archie is on the phone calling an ambulance.

The athletic trainer takes a look at it after they cut my jersey off and remove the pads, but he doesn’t tell me anything I don’t already know. The bone is broken—it’s easy to tell by the massive bruising around my biceps, and the rotator cuff is all messed up.

“The ambulance will be here in a few minutes. I’ll go to the hospital with you. They’ll take you to St. Andrews Hospital in Booth Bay Harbor.” I nod, knowing if I need surgery, I’ll get it done in Boston with the doctor who did the last surgery for me. Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

There’s a knock on the locker room door. “It’s Nikki,” a voice sounds off. “I’m coming in.” She pushes through and rushes to me, but she’s not alone. Kali is with her, and she’s as white as snow.

“Are you alright?” Kali rushes to my side, shoving Archie out of her way, making me smile through the pain.

“I’ve been better, darlin’, but—” But before I can finish my sentence and reassure her, she looks at my shoulder, at the bruising and swelling, and gasps.

“It’s your shoulder. Oh no—”

“Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Nikki asks with real concern on her face—for a blink. It was so quick I might have been mistaken. “Can we get on with the game?”

“Hell, yes,” I say.

“I’m going with Nash in the ambulance to the hospital,” Kali says.

Dylan pushes in through the group of people around me. “The ambulance just pulled up out front. They’re bringing in a gurney now. You okay, Coach?”

“I’ll live. Cost of doing business.” I do my best with a reassuring smirk. Kali touches my back and keeps her hand there. I concentrate on the warmth of her touch seeping into me. I could use that about now because, aside from the pain, which I can handle, this is the exact setback I wanted no part of.

Gulping down a lump of fear at the possible prognosis, I put it aside. “Kali can go with me in the ambulance,” I say as the two EMTs push their gurney through the open locker room door.

Nikki addresses O’Rourk and Spencer, “You two guys need to get back out there and finish this game. You too, Arch.”

The three of them nod and wish me well as they file back outside.

“I guess this means you’re going to miss the gala tonight,” Nikki says as the EMTs attempt to load me onto the gurney.

“Don’t worry about it. Everything will be fine.” Then I say to the EMTs. “You know I can walk, right?”

“Have it your way, Coach.” We all walk out of the locker room toward the waiting ambulance at the back door near the Zamboni garage. Kali walks with me, and Nikki and Dylan follow.

“I’ll try and get to the gala when I can,” Kali says as we reach the back door of the ambulanceambulance's back door, looking torn, but I’m happy that she’s prioritizing me, even if I can’t let her do that.

The EMTs insist I hop on the gurney so they can lift me into the ambulance, and I oblige. Kali is about to join me when a woman in a big fake fur coat pushes past her. My ex. Shit.

“I believe it’s my place to accompany you to the hospital, Nash, as your fiancée.”

Kali stands aside, looking like she wants to slap the woman, and I would pay to see that happen. But then she looks at me.

“Rhonda, you’re not my fiancée. It’s not your place to go with me in the ambulance. By the way, I’m fucking terrible, I’m in a shitload of pain, and I broke my arm, tore my rotator cuff—again—and I’ll probably need surgery—again. Thank you for asking.”

She stands still, tight-lipped, attempting to stare me down. “This is our chance to get back together, Nash.”

“No, it isn’t. We’re done, Rhonda. We’ve been done for a while. Kali is coming with me to the hospital.” I reach out and take Kali’s hand.