Page 23 of Leave Me Not: Nick & Elissa #2 (Badger Creek Duet #8)

23

NICK

E lissa only left yesterday, and I already miss her. I fucking hated sleeping without her last night and I hated waking up this morning without her.

The only good part about today is I’ve managed to avoid both my coach and jumping, with my morning spent in the gym and the afternoon called off after the coach left the facility. There were rumors that he went to see Lucas, but no one’s a hundred percent sure. I texted Lucas earlier this morning, but haven’t gotten a response yet, so I have no idea how he is or what’s going on.

I can’t imagine it’s good because the landing was really bad. But even worse than that is the reason for the bad landing. The reason I didn’t voice out loud but I can only imagine Lis has guessed at. She used to ski competitively and she knows how this all works, so I know her thoughts are going to go straight to a head injury being the cause of all of this.

And she’d be absolutely right, because a week ago, Lucas did hit his head and just like when he fell this weekend, the coach acted like it wasn’t a big deal and made him keep jumping. At the time, we all thought it was a bad decision, but I hadn’t seen the original hit, so I wasn’t totally sure.

Rumors always spread fast around here, mostly because it’s such a tight-knit group and everyone is gossiping or sleeping with everyone. But I’d heard he’d taken a hit to the head and seemed pretty out of it and then I’d heard the coach hadn’t cared too much and had kept him out there.

And now, putting that together with what happened with the landing on the weekend, plus all the shit with my knee, it’s really starting to feel like a pattern of behavior. Plus, there’s still the issue of our missing teammates; both of them were injured before they suddenly disappeared. Which again, only seems to add fuel to this already flaming shit storm.

My phone rings on the bed beside me and I answer without looking at the screen, expecting it to be Lis, as I say, “Hey, babe.”

A man clears his throat on the other end of the line before asking, “Nick?”

I pull the phone from my ear and see the caller ID. “Shit, sorry, Mr. Giancola, I thought you were someone else. My wife,” I add as though to clarify.

He laughs as he says, “Clearly, and seriously, Nick, please call me Gerry.”

“Okay, Gerry,” I reply, still feeling weird about that. The guy is doing all this work for me for free, Jeff insisting I didn’t need to worry about anything, even though I know this must be costing a fortune. “How’s things?”

“Well, I think I might have some good news,” he starts and I immediately sit up, my heart racing.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t get too excited just yet,” he says, as though he knows I’m already packing my bags. “But there is a clause in your contract with the Holdens that we may be able to exploit here.”

My brow narrows because I honestly have no idea what he’s talking about. I signed that contract so long ago and to be honest, I didn’t really pay much attention to it because I never thought I had to. I’ve known the Holdens my entire life and I trust them with it too.

“It relates to endangering your future and their brand by association,” he continues, as though sensing my confusion. “And I think if you’re being forced to jump too early and they are risking further harm to you, then that can be damaging to the Holden brand. I need to explore it a little more, but I wanted to give you a head’s up on it.”

I swallow, my mind churning with this news and how it might relate to the events of the weekend, the conversations Lis and I had, and everything I was trying to piece together just before he rang. Nothing is clear, with most of my thoughts just speculation at this point, so I have no idea if it’s something Gerry would be interested in hearing. There is one thing that may help though.

“So, I thought I might go and see my original surgeon, see if I can get a second opinion on my knee,” I start, unsure if this will help, but knowing it might if what Gerry has just told me is true. If my knee is still damaged, then surely that would help with this clause in my contract.

“Oh?” he says, the sound of shuffling coming through the phone as though he’s moving around.

“Yeah,” I confirm, shifting the ice pack so it’s under my knee.

I spend the next twenty or so minutes filling Gerry in on how the team doctor and coach are pressuring me to have the cortisone injection, despite my concerns about how it might just be masking a bigger problem. How they had me get another MRI after I insisted something was still wrong, but then told me it was clear just a few hours later, which didn’t seem right.

“When are you seeing your surgeon?” he asks when I finally finish.

“Not till next week,” I reply. “I have the MRI tomorrow though.”

Gerry lets out a low hum as though he’s thinking through everything I’ve told him. “Okay, well, ideally I’d really like you to avoid skiing or jumping until you see your surgeon, Nick, but I know that won’t be easy for you. But this, getting a second opinion on your knee, could definitely help your case if they find something on the MRI. Keep me posted with everything and in the meantime, let me look into this clause with the Holdens a bit more and I’ll come back to you as soon as I can, alright?”

“Yeah,” I say with a nod, knowing that not jumping is going to be next to impossible. “And I’ll let you know when I hear anything about my knee.”

After we hang up, my phone rings almost immediately and this time when I look at the screen it is Lis’ name lighting it up. “Hey, babe,” I say.

“Hey, so I have some news,” she says straight away.

“Okay, but everything’s okay, isn’t it? With you and the baby?”

Lis lets out a soft laugh. “Yeah, we’re good, sorry I didn’t mean to worry you.” I let out a sigh of relief as Lis continues, as though she can’t wait to tell me whatever this is. “So, I was talking to Zoey earlier and two things. First, she thinks you need to file a complaint with HR or whoever looks after you guys on the team. She says?—”

“You know that’s gonna create a total shit fight if I do that, don’t you,” I say, interrupting her.

“I know, that’s what I said. But Zoey says, nothing ever happens if you stand still.”

Chuckling, I shake my head, totally able to picture Zoey Holden saying something like that. She’s always been a take no shit and give no shits kind of girl, same as her brother. “Yeah, she’s got a point I guess, but it’s still going to make things really uncomfortable with the coach.”

“I know,” Lis admits, letting out a breath. “And I get you might not want to do it, so I’m cool if this isn’t a path you want to go down. But the other thing…” She trails off now, as though she’s suddenly unsure if she should tell me.

“Spit it out, babe,” I say with a laugh.

“Well, I might have contacted a reporter.”

“What?” I ask, shocked because this is not at all what I expected her to say.

“Yeah, this woman did a story on Badger Creek a while back, during the renovations. She interviewed Zoey and me, and?—”

“I know, I saw the post you put on Instagram,” I tell her. “It was a great interview.”

“You did?” she asks, her words quiet.

She has to know I did, I liked the post. I like all her posts. “Yeah, babe. Just because we broke up, doesn’t mean I unfollowed you. I’ve seen all your posts, many times. I think it was some kind of…I don’t know, way for me to stay close to you.” And torture myself for being such an idiot to let her go in the first place.

“I never unfollowed you either,” she whispers.

I laugh. “I know,” I say. “I saw when you liked my shit too,” I tell her, not admitting how every time she did like one of my posts, my heart flipped in my chest, like it was a tiny bit more hopeful that maybe one day, me and Lis would find our way back to each other again.

“God, we really made a mess of things, didn’t we,” she says, sniffing a little.

I switch the call over to FaceTime, knowing I want to see her. When her beautiful face fills my screen, I can see her eyes are shining. “Babe, we’re good now, okay. Really fucking good.”

“I know,” she says, nodding as she smiles back at me. “It’s the pregnancy, hormones,” she adds, waving a hand.

“Horny or crying, huh?” I tease.

Lis laughs. “Yeah, I just try to have the horniness line up with when you’re around, otherwise…” She trails off with a smirk and I can’t help but laugh.

“Okay, good to know,” I say with a wink. “So tell me about this reporter.”

Lis fills me in on everything she told the reporter about the team and the missing jumpers and what happened with Lucas. She didn’t say anything specific about me to the reporter, not wanting to drop me in it before she’d let me know, but she does say how the reporter is interested in doing a story on it all and promises not to reveal her sources and how Zoey and Ethan are going to pay for everything too.

“Wow,” I eventually say, blowing out a breath.

“Yeah, I know. I kinda hate that our friends are doing that, but you know what Zoey’s like.”

I laugh, nodding as I say, “Yeah, so about that. Max actually texted me after I left, offering to buy out my contracts. Said he was good for it and I didn’t need to worry about paying him back.”

“Harper said he wanted to,” Lis admits.

“We have amazing friends,” I say. “But I turned him down. I know it would solve everything, Lis, but I just can’t let him do it.”

“I know and I agree,” she says, nodding. “What do you think about the reporter though?”

I suck in a breath, letting it out slowly as I shove a hand through my hair. “Honestly, I kinda like it. I think I probably need to tell Gerry about that and the HR complaint, especially because he’s looking into some clause in my Holden contract, but I like it.”

“Me too,” Lis says, smiling.

The next morning, I wake feeling more positive than I have since I came back here. After my phone call with Lis, where I filled her in on what Gerry told me, I also sent him a text asking about me filing a complaint with HR. I didn’t mention the reporter just yet, because at this stage, she was just doing some research, but Gerry did say that I should hold off on filing the complaint for a bit, at least until he could look into Holden being the ones to file it on my behalf, sort of protecting me a little more.

After I shower and dress, I skip breakfast and head over to the hospital where I had my surgery after I first fucked my knee. After I get the MRI done, I head back to the training facility and over to the PT for my rehab. Even though the doctor supposedly cleared me to go back to jumping, he did still agree that I should continue with PT a couple of times a week.

I’m not sure if these guys are on the coach’s side with everything too, but they never seem too concerned about my knee hurting or the swelling. When I texted Mandy a picture of it, she lost her shit, texting me back in all capital letters before eventually calling me to yell into the phone instead.

I got it, she was pissed. So was I. But there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it right now. I have to just let this all play out, hope to hell that Gerry finds me that loophole. In my team contract or my sponsorship contract, I don’t care.

I just need him to find it.

After lunch, I’m supposed to train, practice this triple kicker the coach wants me doing. It’s the jump I was hitting when I fucked my knee in the first place, so it’s pretty much the last thing I want to do right now.

I send the coach a text, a lie about heading over to the simulators to practice there, because I know he’s going to be on the platform all afternoon with the rest of the team.

I expect him to rip me a new one when he gets it, but instead he surprises me with his reply.

Coach: Great! We can debrief on the footage tomorrow morning and then get you out here for real tomorrow afternoon. Good to have you back, Nick!

“Dick,” I mutter, sliding my phone into my pocket as I head back to my room.

I spend the afternoon reading over all the shit I’ve sent to Gerry, as well as scouring the internet for articles written by the reporter Lis contacted. By the time my cell phone rings, I realize it’s dark and I’m fucking starving.

“Hello?” I say, not recognizing the number.

“Nick O’Connor?” a man’s voice asks.

“Yep, that’s me.”

“Nick, hey, it’s Dr. Sharman over at Memorial,” he says, and I immediately recognize the name of the surgeon who fixed my knee.

“Hey, doc, how’s things?”

He blows out a breath. “Well, I’ve had a look at your scans. I know we aren’t due to meet until next week, but the radiologist flagged it for me, and I wanted to call you straight away.”

“Okay,” I say, that same sinking feeling I got when this guy told me about my knee three months ago, hitting me again.

“You’re skiing again,” he says, although not with accusation, if anything he sounds more concerned.

“Yeah,” I admit. “I don’t want to, but the team doctor cleared me, so I don’t have a choice.” I know it sounds pathetic, because of course I have a choice. I can just not do it, it’s as simple as that. Well, it should be.

“Yeah, look, I’ve um…I’ve kept quiet about this for too long, but I can’t ignore it anymore.”

“Wait, what?” I ask, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Your knee isn’t great, Nick,” he says, getting straight to the point. “In fact, there’s more damage there and if you continue to jump now, you’re risking permanent damage.”

“What?” I shout, my heart pounding in my chest.

“You have some more microfractures in your tibia and I think there’s some minor tearing in the meniscus. Ideally, I’d like to operate again. Actually, I should operate again.”

“Operate?” I repeat. “As in…”

“As in, you need to stop skiing immediately. I need to get in there and clean this knee up and then we need to report your team doctor, because I think he’s doing something illegal. Actually, I’m certain of it.”

“I think my coach is in on it too,” I blurt out.

“Yeah,” Dr. Sharman admits. “As much as it pains me to say this, I think you’re right and unfortunately, I think you’re also not the only one who’s gone through this. This isn’t the first time I’ve had someone from the facility in here with more damage than they should have.”

Suddenly, my brain is going a mile a minute as everything starts to click into place. Not only has the coach and the team doctor lied about my previous MRI scan and the results, but they’ve also caused more damage to my knee. Damage that is going to require more surgery to fix. And from what this doctor just told me, it seems like maybe I’m not the only one.

“Doc, tell me something,” I say, as I start moving about my room. “Would you be willing to speak with my lawyer?” I start with this, knowing asking him to speak with a reporter might be less appealing.

Dr. Sharman lets out a low chuckle. “You’re a smart guy for getting a lawyer, Nick,” he says. “I think you’ve got a legitimate claim here.”

“Yeah, and you’re not answering my question,” I say, wondering if maybe he doesn’t want to get dragged into all of this. I don’t know how it works in medical circles, but I can’t imagine turning on one of your colleagues is a good thing.

He laughs again. “Yeah, give him my contact details,” he finally says. “This really does need to end. I should’ve done something a long time ago.”

“It’s just good you’re doing something now,” I tell him, as I throw all of my shit into my bag.

“I guess,” he says, although he doesn’t sound convinced. “And listen, I really think you need to consider the surgery, okay. It’ll give you a shot at still being able to ski, eventually, but I?—”

“I’ll get the surgery, doc, but tell me, can I get it done in Tahoe?”

He laughs again. “Yeah, you can get it done in Tahoe,” he says. “I actually have a buddy from med school out there. I’ll send you and him a copy of the report and you can touch base when you get back. I’m sure your lawyer will be interested in it too. Tell him to call me if he has any questions about it.”

I zip my bag closed, casting one last glance around my room. It’s completely empty now, all of my stuff either packed in my duffel or back home in Badger Creek. “Thanks, doc, I really appreciate it,” I say, as I throw my bag over my shoulder. “Appreciate everything actually.”

“All good,” he says, as I open the door to my room. “I’ll be in touch.”

After we hang up, I walk out of the room I’ve spent the past three or so years living in and down to the storage facility. Everyone is gone, either in the cafeteria having dinner or out in town and I’m grateful I don’t have to explain myself to anyone.

I know it’s a shitty thing to do, disappearing on my teammates and friends, but I’m not hanging around here for a single second longer. Not after that phone call, not after finding out my coach has been lying to me. So instead, I head into the storage shed and pack up my skis and gear, dragging the oversize bag behind me as I make my way down to the front of the training facility.

Then I book an Uber to the airport, finally breathing a sigh of relief at the knowledge that I’m going home.