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Jamie went quiet for a moment. Once they had given her some painkillers, her mind cleared enough to think about her breakup again. It was oddly nice to know that Tessa had been suffering too. Not that Jamie didn’t think it hurt for them both, but usually being dumped was more painful than doing the dumping. It was less wounding to the ego to be the one who made the decision. But drinking and sleeping? It sounded as if Tessa was as upset about it as Jamie was.

“One wee positive came from your injury,” Tessa said with a smirk. “You finally held my hand in a stadium full of people.”

A chuckle fell from Jamie’s lips. “Sweet, suffering Jesus.”

Tessa feigned offense. “Hey, now, that’s my line!”

They shared a laugh. Tessa interlocked her fingers with Jamie’s.

“You’re gonna be alright, Jamie,” Tessa said. “I promise.”

Jamie hoped it was true. Upon arrival at the hospital, they rushed her into a back room for an x-ray. Then, they took her to a private room to wait for her results. Where they also gave her an IV to help with the pain.

Mrs. Gallagher arrived, appearing exactly as Jamie remembered her—in a kitten themed jumper and mum jeans, sensible trainers, and glasses. Her face had little color as she glanced between Jamie and her daughter. She locked eyes with Jamie.

“Are you alright, love?” she asked, a little breathless. “Is it broken? Tessa said it’s probably broken.”

“I’m okay right now, thank you,” Jamie said. The concern was nice. “We’re waiting to see the x-ray.”

“Ach, well, you just rest then,” Mary Ann said, patting Jamie’s arm. “I’m sure it’ll all be fine.”

She reached into her tote bag and pulled out a knit blanket, which she draped over Jamie’s legs.

“Can’t have you getting cold, now,” she muttered.

“A blanket, Ma?” Tessa questioned.

“We can’t have her getting sick on top of having a broken leg, Tessa!” Mary Ann shot back. “Christ, are you trying to kill her?”

Tessa only rolled her eyes. Jamie held back a giggle.

Her smile disappeared when the doctor arrived, and her father was hot on his heels.

The doctor, a middle-aged, balding white man with big, round glasses and absurd bow tie, breezed into the room. He immediately put some distance between himself and Dexter, who had not even looked at Jamie yet.

“Doctor, I—”

“Mr. Hupp, I have heard your concerns, but your daughter is my patient, not you,” he said, cutting across Dexter. He met Jamie’s gaze. The gray eyes behind the glasses were kind. “Hello, Jamie. I’m Dr. Watson.”

“Like from Sherlock Holmes?” Mary Ann blurted out.

He smirked at her. “I get that all the time.”

“I’m sure you do, being English and all,” she said.

He turned his attention back to Jamie. “Jamie, I’m sorry to tell you this, but your ankle is broken. Badly broken.”

Jamie opened her mouth to ask what that meant, but her father jumped in instead.

“How badly?” he demanded. “When is she going to be match fit again?”

Dr. Watson shot an annoyed glare at Dexter, but answered anyway. “This sort of break will require surgery, followed by rest and recovery, and then physical therapy. It’s difficult to estimate now, but it could be a year before she is playing at the level she was before.”

The blood drained from Dexter’s face as he shook his head. “No. No, this can’t be. She’s got to get better sooner than that. Do you know how quickly athletes lose their relevance? A year? Are you sure?”

The doctor answered, but Jamie didn’t hear. Panic rose in her chest, clawing at her ribcage. Her father had not even looked at her. Had not asked if she was okay. Had made no effort to comfort her. Her mother’s words echoed in her mind.

He’s taken you too, hasn’t he?