Page 34 of Secret Love (The Single Dad Playbook #2)

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

I DON’T LIKE THIS PART

TRU

The fear I feel when Henley doesn’t get back up is indescribable. I’m still a newbie to football, but since the season began, I’ve been to every home game, including the ones during the preseason.

Every time he’s tackled, my heart stops, but he always hops right back up, that grin visible from the field, and he brushes it off like it's nothing. Even though I can see later that he's hurting.

We've spent many hours in the hot tub to ease his aches and pains. The game is taking a toll on his body, but he never shows it…so when he stays down on the field for too long, I feel like I might collapse myself.

“What's happening?” Cassidy asks. “Why isn't he getting up?”

The girls and I clutch each other's hands and I pick Gracie up when she starts crying.

When the stretcher lifts him up and puts him on the cart, I study the screen to see if I can tell anything. His eyes are squeezed shut, but his hands are clenching.

He’s not unconscious.

He’s okay, he’s okay, he’s okay.

Please be okay.

They roll off the field and the noise is deafening.

“What should we do?” I look at Sadie. “Can I go down there? Can I take the girls with me?”

“I think so,” she says. “I’ll come with you. I don't know if they'll let us see him, but we can try.”

I leave the suite with the girls and we rush through the back halls, Sadie leading the way. Timothy, one of the trainers, is outside the office when we get there. He motions for us to follow him.

“He wanted you to know he's okay. All of you,” he says, looking at me and the girls.

“What happened?” I ask.

“I wish I knew more…”

“Can we see him?”

“He's with the doctor right now and if he has anything to say about it, you’ll see him soon. He was more worried about you guys than anything.”

Gracie buries her head in my hair and sniffles and my other hand grips Audrey’s as we follow Timothy. I can tell we’re getting close because of the crowd slowly gathering around the closed door. I’ve seen the way these guys look after they’ve just won a game and this is not it. They look gutted and it just adds to the apprehension I’m feeling.

My phone buzzes and I pull it out. Bree.

“I should take this. It’s your mom,” I tell the girls. “Hey, Bree.”

“Is he okay?”

“I haven’t seen him yet, but one of the trainers says he is. The girls are with me. I’ll let you know what’s going on as soon as I’ve seen him.”

“Thank you. Hug the girls for me and tell Henley that Alex and I are praying for him.”

“I will.”

We hang up, and when it's time for us to go back, I rush to Henley's side. He grabs my hand and the girls take turns hugging him. We surround him, and I try to stay calm for everyone’s sake, but inside, I’m still panicking.

“I’m okay. I'm okay,” he says, but he looks awful.

His coloring is wrong. His forehead is clammy and the way he's squeezing my hand, I can tell he's hurting.

“What happened? I asked.

“They’re saying it’s most likely an ACL tear and that I may need surgery in a few weeks. After X-rays, we’ll have a better idea. An ambulance is waiting to take me to the hospital, but I wanted to see you first.” He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses it. I brush back his hair and lean down to kiss his forehead.

When I lean back, his eyes are intense.

“I’m so sorry you’re hurting.” I can hardly get the words out.

I’m sorry for more than his pain, although I hate knowing he’s hurting more than anything, but I’m also sorry for what this could mean for his career. That’s the unspoken giant in the room.

Gracie whimpers in my arms and he reaches out to squeeze her arm.

“I’m okay, peanut,” he says to Gracie.

He reaches out and motions for Audrey and Cassidy to come closer. They lean down to hug him again.

“Look at me. I'll be fine,” he tells them.

They all cry and he puts his hand on Audrey's face. “Don’t worry,” he says. “My knee hurts a lot, but it's not the end of the world. Okay?”

”Are you going to be able to play football again?” Cassidy asks, through her tears.

He winces. “I don't know. I really don't know.”

He meets my eyes and I see the fear and pain there. It kills me.

“We need to head out,” Dr. Grinstead says. “You can meet us over at the hospital if you want.”

“I’ll be there,” I say.

“You don’t have to come,” Henley says. “Dr. Grinstead says they’ll most likely keep me overnight to run all the tests. I can have someone take me home tomorrow.”

“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, but I’ll be there.”

He swallows hard. “I love you, tiny dancer. I love all my girls.”

He forces out a smile to the girls. I can tell by his breathing that he’s in so much pain.

“We love you. I'll be there soon,” I promise.

The girls want to go with me to the hospital, but after I call Bree again to let her know what's going on, we arrange a place to meet so she can get the girls. She says she'll take them over to the house to see Henley once he’s home. They're not happy about this, but I do as Bree asks and then head over to the hospital. It’s one of the things I’m learning is challenging about being the significant other of a parent…I don’t have the final word.

I’m mostly okay with that, but in this situation, knowing how worried the girls are, I wish they were given the choice to decide whether they’re at the hospital or not. But I’m going to trust that Bree knows what’s best there.

I rush to the hospital and since Dr. Grinstead knew I was coming, I’m immediately taken to Henley’s room. I recognize Jimmy Scott, but not the other handful of people in the room. No sign of Henley. They stop talking for a moment to look at me, their expressions grave.

“Hi, Tru,” Jimmy says. “Henley’s still getting an MRI and another couple of tests. He should be back soon.”

I nod. “I’ll be in the waiting room just outside.”

I back out before they can say anything else, the need to bolt from the room too strong. I can tell by how devastated the men in this room look that what’s happening with Henley is not good.

I want to ask them what this means for his career. What the chances are for a player who’s had this injury. In my hurry to get the girls to Bree and to come here, I haven’t had time to look anything up. It’s just as well, I didn’t need to be any more fearful than I already was. But now that I have time, I open my phone and what I read on there has me tearing up. When I hear people coming, I put my phone away and wipe my face.

Sadie and Weston are walking toward me and when I stand up to hug Sadie, I see my mom coming too. It makes me start crying all over again.

Sadie gives me a sympathetic smile when I pull away.

“Elle called on our way over. She’s sending her love and wants you to call her if you need company—or anything at all—when you go back home. She was on her way here, but I told her she better not risk being seen with the players. Calista will be here soon.”

“Thank you. I don’t want Elle to risk it either. But I’m so glad you’re here.” I can hardly get the words out. I’m not used to having a support system like this.

“The guys are right behind us. They got stopped by fans. Sadie and I managed to sneak past,” Weston says. “Have you seen Henley yet?”

“Only at the stadium. He’s still having tests done.”

When my mom reaches me, she wraps her arms around me. “How did he seem?” she asks.

“Like he’s in so much pain,” my voice breaks. I swallow hard and smile at her.

“He won that game,” she says, shaking her head. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“He’s the best there is,” Weston says. “I can’t believe Anderson made such a cheap shot.” His eyes are so sad when I look up at him. “I really hope Hen has more time to play—” He stops and swallows, crinkling his face. “I don’t need to say things like that. He’s going to recover and be one hundred percent.”

It’s what we all want to believe, but those statistics I just read are playing through my mind and Weston is more aware of the usual outcomes of this injury than I am. If wishful thinking and positivity can make it happen though, I want to do my part.

Sadie squeezes my hand and we all sit down. Bowie, Rhodes, and Penn gradually make their way to the waiting room and Calista is just arriving when Jimmy sticks his head in the door.

“Henley’s in his room and he’s asking for you, Tru,” he says.

“Tell him we love him,” Rhodes says, and they all chime in as I stand up and walk toward the door.

“And let us know if you need any food or anything,” Calista says. “We can go pick something up.”

“Thanks, guys. I’ll keep you posted.”

Henley’s room is still full when I walk in and move toward his bed. I take his hand and lean in to kiss him. “How are you feeling?”

“Not my best day,” he says, brushing my hair back.

He pats the bed and I try to sit there, but it’s a tight spot and I don’t want to hurt him. I opt for standing.

“It’s what I thought—my ACL is torn. It’s not good.”

“I’m so sorry,” I say softly. “What happens next?”

Dr. Grinstead clears his throat and we turn to look at him.

“We were just talking about it and it was too depressing. I wanted to see you instead.” Henley grins, but I can tell it takes effort.

“Did they give you anything?”

“Yes. I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not.”

He puts my hand up to his lips and kisses it. “Better now that you’re here.”

“We’ll see how things look this week,” Dr. Grinstead says. “What the range of motion is looking like after a few days…how Henley responds to physical therapy…and hopefully we won’t have to do surgery, but if so, we’ve got the best of the best on standby, ready to get on the first flight when that time comes. We won’t know for sure if that’s our course of action for another couple of weeks.”

It’s still surprising to me what a different world it is for famous football players, especially since Henley is so down to earth, but he’s treated like royalty everywhere he goes. Even now as we’re talking, a pitcher of iced water and Gatorade are placed next to his bed, with a better-than-any-hospital-food-I’ve-ever-seen meal. Henley thanks the guy, who blushes furiously before backing out of the room.

“When can I get out of here?” Henley asks.

“Since there’s no concussion or other internal injuries, we’ll let you go home tonight, but you can’t put weight on this leg, Henley,” Dr. Grinstead says firmly. “Elevate it, ice it, stay on top of the anti-inflammatories. We’ll see how it looks tomorrow. I can’t stress the importance of you taking it easy…and not the way you usually think you’re taking it easy when you’ve been injured…” He gives Henley a pointed look. “We want that swelling to go way down and we want you playing again. It’s important you take this seriously.”

Henley nods. “I’m taking it seriously, trust me.”

I message everyone that Henley gets to go home tonight and they offer to bring food to the house, but I tell them we’ll be okay. Henley doesn’t have much of an appetite and I just want him to sleep as soon as he can. They stop by the room before they go and huddle around his bed.

“You gave us quite a scare,” Bowie says.

“Yeah, don’t ever do that again,” Rhodes adds, putting his hand on Henley’s shoulder.

“Name it, whatever you need, and we’ll do it, Hen. Just say the word. Or have Tru tell us,” Weston says.

“You won that game for us like the motherfucking star you are,” Penn says.

They all get emotional then, these big, muscled football players pure mush, and I’m sniffling along with the rest of them.

They say their goodbyes, hugging me after they hug Henley, and within an hour or so, Henley gets to go home too. I don’t even consider staying at my house tonight. I think I need to sleep by his side even more than he needs me to.