Page 20 of Catching Our Moment

Kelcie

Shaw and I traveled to Baltimore a few days later to visit the doctors at Hopkins and to move him onto the next stage of his recovery.

Things had been tense since our showdown the other night, and we both knew we needed to clear the air.

But neither of us wanted to revisit it with Aaron around, so we tried to let it go and act normally.

But with Aaron not in the car, there was no need for the pretense, and we drove in almost complete silence on the ride there. Shaw pretended to sleep while I played chauffeur.

The good news was he was cleared of the concussion, which wasn’t a surprise. The bad news was what had him quiet, bitchy, and brooding even more on the way home. His shoulder was going to take another six to eight weeks to heal, and the verdict was still out on the herniated disc in his neck.

Since he was cleared of the concussion, he wanted to drive home. I had to point out that he was still only operating with one arm, and we were in my car. That didn’t go over well. Thankfully, though, he dropped it. We didn’t argue often, so we didn’t exactly know how to make up.

With me in the driver’s seat, he sat with the chair pushed back to accommodate his long legs and stared out the side window as the city changed into suburbs, and the tractor-trailers and cars kept us company all the way home. As if tuned in to his mood, the heavens opened, and it began to pour.

“How are you doing over there?” I was out of practice getting him to open up to me, and it felt awkward.

“Fine.” The universal answer for, “Of course I’m not fine, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I wouldn’t worry about anything they said today. Let’s just concentrate on your recovery and?—”

“It’s not something I can ignore,” he said, his tone deep but flat.

Okay.

“I’m not suggesting ignoring it. I’m just?—”

He lifted his hand to me. He obviously didn’t want to talk about it.

I let out a quiet sigh. “Okay, well, we have your new treatment plan. I will get my work schedule, and we can figure out a routine together,” I said. “I can hardly wait to get my hands on you,” I joked.

“Yeah, okay. Whatever you think. It’s not like I have a busy schedule, so whatever works.”

My shoulders dropped slightly. We were dealing with wallowing Shaw.

His phone rang. He picked it up and hit a button, cutting off the ringer.

It rang again. He stared at the screen. “Shit.”

“Is everything okay?” I said, pulling the car off the interstate at our exit.

He scowled at the phone as if it was about to pick a fight with him. “It’s my agent.”

“Oh. Do you not like him?”

“Her. No, I like her fine enough, but she’s calling about the appointment, and she’s going to want to talk.

Only, I don’t want to talk.” He dropped his head back against the headrest. “But if I don’t answer, she will fly her ass out here, and then I’ll have to deal with her in person. And she won’t be happy about it.”

He took in a breath and answered, “Hello, Yaz.”

I pulled up to a stoplight. He was quiet while listening to the muffled, fast talk of his agent. He rubbed his forehead, resting his head back against the headrest. He relayed what the doctors said about his recovery time. “Yes, I realize that’s most of the season.”

A few minutes went by, and besides a grunt of affirmation, he didn’t say anything. “Of course, I realize it’s not ideal, given the status of my contract.”

More mumbling from the phone.

“Yeah, she’s here. We’re driving home,” he said.

“She discussed a treatment plan we will be starting with the team at Hopkins.” He listened some more, cutting a quick, sheepish glance at me, making me curious about what was being said.

“Yes, the team doctor approved of her credentials. It’s fine. She’s a hard-ass. You’d approve.”

That was a correct assessment. I was going to be extra hard on him after this sulk-fest.

There was a pause from the noise coming from his phone. “Does that mean we are done—” Then more talking. “Guess not.”

“Aw, come on, Yaz?—”

“Yeah, I know I’m not on vacation, but I’m also supposed to be lying low while I recover,” he said.

More from Yaz. Then he tossed up his free hand. “Fine, one interview.” Mumbling. “When?” Mumbling. “I can’t. I am busy after 3:00 on weekdays.”

I put on my blinker to make a turn, shot a look over at him, and shook my head. “You don’t have to cancel plans because of Aaron.”

He put up his hand at me. We were going to have to talk about this new habit of his. He was still listening to Yaz. “Tell you what. Tell them to send me the equipment, and I will do it from here.”

Inaudible mumbling from the phone. “Call TJ. Ask him, or I will.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

The muffled sounds also increased.

“No non-disclosures. These people are family. They don’t need non-disclosures.

” Shaw’s irritation was hitting heights I didn’t remember seeing before.

“Just send me the specifics. Talk to you later.” He hung up the phone and rubbed his hand through his hair.

“God dammit, I can’t get a quiet moment. ”

Silence once again descended on the car. I turned on the blinker and made another turn. “Everything okay?” Yes, I realized I was part of the reason he couldn’t get a quiet moment.

“Fine.”

Okay. “Listen, if you have things you need to do, you don’t have to worry about Aaron.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he said. “She—my agent—has an interview lined up with a former teammate of mine who has his own podcast now.” He grumbled to himself. “Why she thinks this is a good idea is beyond me.”

“Okay, well, like I said?—”

“I thought maybe Aaron would like to watch. TJ is a good guy, and Aaron would probably get a kick out of meeting him,” he said. “I need to check on the time and day, but the great thing about technology is that I can do it from home.”

“Um, okay.” I wasn’t sure how to feel about this. We pulled onto our street, and I turned into the alley that led to the garages out back. “Let me think about it.”

“Yaz is going to text me the specifics later.”

I pulled in the garage and turned off the car. “If you don’t want to do it, why did you agree?”

“Because she’s my agent, and I basically have to do whatever she says.

If I have any hope of staying in this league, I need to listen to her.

” He opened his door while he continued to talk.

Except, I thought he was talking more to himself than me.

“It’s about image right now as much as physical potential.

” As he got out, he added, “Hell, at this point, if I have any hope of a career outside this league, I need to listen to her as well.”

I got out and closed my door. “Well, we have a game plan and can start tomorrow with everything. You finally get your wish—you can start working out,” I said, leading up the back stairs. “Aaron should be home from school soon. Do you want to come over?”

He stood outside the garage and stared at the ground. “Nah. I’m pretty beat. Tell him I’ll catch him tomorrow.”

He started to walk to his side of the house, but I took two quick steps to grab his hand, digging in my heels to stop him. “Shaw. Listen, I’m sorry about the other night. I?—”

“I know, so am I. Let’s just let it go. As you said, it’s in the past, and I think both of us have enough going on in the present that we don’t need to drag that up anymore.”

“Good point.” Unsure of myself, I rocked on my heels. “But seriously, I am here for you, and I will get you through this—both as your PT and your friend…and your drill sergeant.”

He tried a half smile, but with his shoulders slumped and his face drained, that spark in him that I knew so well was nowhere to be seen. He wouldn’t even look at me. “I appreciate it.” But he wasn’t accepting a pep talk as he tried to pull away toward his back door.

“Hey…” Still holding his hand, I gave it a squeeze. Shaw wasn’t the broody type. But even when he did get down, I used to be able to pull him out of it. I felt inept now. Who helped him when he needed it now? Did Riley do anything?

A sad thought hit my heart. After my limited interactions with Riley and all the publicity I’d seen of Shaw over the years in the media, I didn’t doubt he was surrounded by people who liked him.

But did anyone really know Shaw? He hadn’t spoken about anyone as a close friend, a confidant, since he’d been home.

No one came to visit. No one even called to check on him except for business associates—that I knew of, at least.

Did anyone really know him anymore?

I reached up with my other hand and guided his chin in my direction.

His scruff was tantalizing to touch. “We got this.” I wanted to assure him that I had his back, not rub my hand over his chin.

I was going to hone him into a powerful machine again, make him as good as new so I could get him back on that field…

so he could get destroyed again. I winced.

He was damaging his neck and his spine with the constant trauma that came with being hit by two-hundred-fifty-pound linebackers.

I didn’t want to fix him up and send him back out there.

The thought of him doing permanent damage hit me like a kick in the gut.

But Shaw not playing football wasn’t even imaginable, and saying anything to hurt him now wasn’t an option, so instead, I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him. “We’ll figure it out.”

He stood rigidly, breathing in deeply before he finally relaxed. His arm wrapped around my back, and I ran my hand down the back of his head. As he rested his head on my shoulder, I repeated, “We got this.”