Doctor Charmer (Doctors of Eastport General)

29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Ivy

C helsea lowers her head onto my shoulder, another tissue pressed to her nose as we sit in the waiting area outside the operating room. Reggie and I rushed here nearly ninety minutes ago. I found Chelsea alone in the waiting area, and Reggie joined the team in the OR.

“He had just kissed me, and then he fell over in pain.” Chelsea recounts the scary moment for the tenth time. “I thought he was joking at first. I wasted thirty seconds laughing at him before I knew it was real. Before I called the nurse. What if those thirty seconds make a difference?” She’s back in her rabbit hole. A bottomless, dark place we’ve all fallen into.

I stroke her hair, hoping to provide some level of comfort. “Remember, this is why they kept him these few days to monitor him. They said this was a possibility. And I think you being in the room with him, acting so quickly, helped. Besides, he has two of the best doctors in the building operating on him.”

She raises her head as if about to speak but stops. Her gaze shifts toward the movement, the doors from the restricted area opening and Angie and Reggie approaching. I help Chelsea up from the chair and hand her the crutches. She adjusts them underneath her armpits, struggling to balance.

They approach us, stopping two feet in front. Reggie gives me a brilliant smile, but it’s Angie who speaks first. “Griffin is doing fine. We located the source of the bleeding, stopped it, and repaired the damage. He’ll be with us for a few additional days, but we’re expecting a full recovery.”

Chelsea drops one crutch and pulls Angie into a hug. A yip escapes from her with the surprise move, and Reggie steps around them, pulling me into a side hug. He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Everything’s going to be okay. We got you.”

“You always have,” I whisper back to him and look up at the look of pride on his handsome face.

“Can we see him?” Chelsea asks.

“Of course, in a few minutes. I’ll have the nurse come out and bring you in,” Angie replies.

Chelsea sniffles. “Good. That gives me time to run to the bathroom and fix my face. I don’t want him to know I was out here bawling like a baby.”

She spins on her heels, and I tap her elbow. “You want me to come with?” I think back to yesterday when Chelsea sat with me as I applied my makeup, looking to impress a boy.

“I think she can do it on her own,” Angie says, her arm on my shoulder with a gentle tug. A signal for me to stay put. There’s something she wants to tell me without Chelsea around.

“Dr. Carmichael is right. Go, I’ll be right here when you get back, and we’ll go see Griffin together.” Angie and I stand shoulder to shoulder, watching Chelsea bounce down the hall. Once she’s gone from view, I turn to face Angie. “Is Griffin going to be okay?”

“Of course,” she says. “It’s about you. I got the results back from your exam.”

I feel Reggie’s presence over my shoulder. He eases forward. I wonder if he already knows, and this is a preemptive move to be in position for the delivery of bad news.

“I’m sorry, Reggie, but this is patient-doctor confidential. Do you mind checking in on Griffin?”

He doesn’t know. Angie didn’t tell him. He doesn’t know. I feel Reggie’s presence behind me. Even without seeing him, I sense the conflict in him. He wants to touch me, comfort me but doesn’t know how. Doesn’t know whether it’s needed.

I remember his words earlier. Him risking suspension to be here with me. Where you go, I go. My underwear is sitting in a drawer at his condo. We’re not two strangers with flirtatious natures playing games. In a short amount of time, we’ve been through a lot together. We are building something. Something special. “If I say it’s okay, he can stay, right?”

Reggie leans forward, his heated breath on the back of my neck, his lips next to my right ear. “I’m not your doctor.”

“I know.” I don’t turn, speaking loud enough for him to hear. “You’re my man.” I reach my hand blindly behind me, finding his, giving him a we’re in this together squeeze. “And I need my man here with me. Whatever you have to say, Angie, you can say in front of us. Both of us.”

I keep my focus forward, urging Angie to continue, knowing if I turn, Reggie will pull me into a hug, kiss me for an hour, and we’ll never find out what Angie knows.

Her gaze rises above my shoulder, seeking Reggie’s consent. It’s my life. It’s my decision. “Speak,” I order her.

She hems for two long heartbeats, and I fear the worst. It’s a mirror image of when I received the initial diagnosis. The doctors knew what it would mean to me. The end of my playing days. The rest of my life forever changed.

“I won’t beat around the bush.” I nod, quickly learning this is her style. “You have a labral tear in your hip. It’s a tiny tear, but it’s right on the ring of cartilage of the labrum, which is why you’ve experienced the pain.” Angie delivers the damaging news with half a smile on her face, and I’m confused.

Why is she smiling?

Reggie steps around me with a matching grin.

What the hell is going on?

He must read the confusion on my face. “Ivy, this is good news.”

I shake my head. “You two need to get out of the hospital more often. This is the opposite of good news. I had a slight sprain, and now it’s a tear. That sounds ten times worse.”

Angie shakes her head. “You never had a sprain. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. That was a misdiagnosis. They possess similar presentations, but with a little investigation, they should have gotten it right. You’ve always had the tear.”

“Can I see?” Reggie asks for Angie’s hospital-issued iPad, which is under her arm. She taps, swipes, and hands it to him.

“So, it’s a tear rather than a sprain. It still hurts like hell when I go all out. What’s the difference?”

Reggie pinches at the screen, twists it to Angie, pointing at something, and she nods. “It means it can be repaired. Permanently.”

My hand reaches up to my chest, unsure I’ve heard the words correctly. “Permanently?” I whisper.

“We can perform hip arthroscopy with labral repair. It’s minimally invasive surgery with the shortest recovery time.” Angie details the procedure. “There’ll be some physical therapy, but you’re an athlete. It’ll be over in a week or two, then you’ll be on your way to a full recovery.”

It still feels like I’m missing something. They both seem like this is good news. All I hear is the word surgery .

Reggie pulls me into a side hug. “Dear, when Angie says full recovery, she means full. As in, you’ll be pain-free. You’ll get back your full range of motion.”

“Wait, what?” That’s what I was missing. That’s why they are so giddy. “Pain-free. I’ll be able to spike again?”

“Spike, jump serve, leap over the net…”

Tears appear in my eyes, and I hear the sobs escaping my lips. I had learned to live with the pain but had never fully accepted it. It always felt as if I lost part of myself with the original diagnosis. This is too good to be true.

I step forward and wrap my arms around Angie. “Thank you, thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“Don’t thank me—thank Reggie for forcing you to come in for the exam. Without it, you would have continued to live with the pain.”

I wave to Reggie to join our hug fest, the three of us wrapped in an embrace right in the middle of the waiting room. A million thoughts flash through my head. I can’t wait to tell my parents, my entire family. I can’t wait to get on the court and show the girls how to spike the ball, not just talk. This changes everything, and I owe it all to my man. Yeah, I said it. My man.

“What’d I miss?” We all scramble out of the hug when we hear the question from Chelsea with a perplexed look on her face.

We don’t answer, merely bursting into a fit of laughs.