Page 15 of Send It
Colson
That night at the lake house sits undisputedly at number one on the “greatest nights of my life” list. Directly followed by the next three that also have something to do with Lincoln Bane.
It wasn’t like any other night that I’d had with her. There was no pretending, no hiding. I laid there and looked into her eyes and for one night, we didn’t think about Reiss. We didn’t think about anyone but us.
I’d treated Lincoln like a disease for the past three years, knowing that I couldn’t tell anyone how I really felt. God knows I didn’t deserve her affection at all, but I’m glad she chose to give it to me on her special day.
Her eighteenth birthday.
“What are you doing?” Reiss asks, yanking his helmet off, his wet hair matted against his forehead. “You gonna ride or sit there on your bike and stare off into space like a weirdo?”
Truthfully, I can’t ride. My ankle feels like someone is taking a chainsaw to my boot when I ride and the vibrations nearly make me want to vomit.
“I’m just not feeling that great. I think I’m gonna go home and take a nap.”
He scoffs. “You need to get your head out of your ass. What is going on with you? Is it something with your parents?”
I instantly feel defensive at the mere mention of them, “No?”
“When was the last time you saw them?” He asks. “Talked to them on the phone?”
“I don’t know, Reiss! What’s with the interrogation, huh?”
He chucks his helmet against the concrete of the garage floor. “There’s something going on with you. You aren’t acting like yourself. You’ve barely been on the track, you are constantly on your phone… Come to think of it, it’s almost like you are avoiding me.”
I scoff. “I’m not avoiding you. I’m here, Reiss.”
He looks down at my leg that I’m not putting weight on, “Is it your leg again?”
It’s my parents.
It’s my leg.
It’s your little sister.
“Yeah, maybe.” I sigh. “I’m gonna get it checked.”
He stares at me before giving me a smirk. “No you won’t.”
I shake my head in defeat, “I’m gonna have to.”
“Gonna have to do what?” I hear Lincoln say as she walks in with the skimpiest bikini top on I’ve ever seen.
“Get his leg checked,” Reiss says, causing Lincoln’s stare to turn into more of a hateful glare.
“I thought you went to see Dr. Marlow,” she snaps. “You dirty little liar.”
“Oh, no.” Reiss sighs. “We’ve awoken the monster.”
“You promised you’d get it looked at!” She yells. “Now look at you, you can’t even put weight on it.”
“No,” I drawl. “I promised I’d rest it. I never agreed to go to the doctor.”
She shakes her head, “You are ridiculous, Colson. Go to the damn doctor.”
I shake my head in agreement, “Yeah, I will.”
Looking at me and then back to Reiss, she sighs, “I’m taking you.”
She swipes her car keys off the counter along with a Bane Racing t-shirt that she pulls over her head. “Come on, I've got a few hours before I have to go to work.”
I give Reiss a look that says “save me” but he just laughs. “You did this to yourself, you made her go over her hip.”
I groan, following Lincoln outside. “I can drive, baby Bane. I don’t need you chauffeuring me around.”
She looks down at my leg, “You’re limping.”
I blow out a deep breath, sliding into the passenger seat. She follows suit and when she shuts the door she doesn’t immediately pull out of the driveway.
“You didn’t talk to him, did you?” she asks.
It pains me, but I look over to her apologetically.
“You slept in my bed, Colson. We have to tell him.”
I shake my head, “I know, I know we do. I’m just not sure how to even bring it up, but I promise I will.”
“I can’t hide this from him,” she says, her voice cracking with emotion. “I can’t keep lying to him. It feels wrong.”
I rub my hands down my face, “I will talk to him.”
She doesn’t say another word the entire way to town and when we get to the doctor’s office, she follows me in and waits in the chair next to me.
“Colson Raines,” the nurse calls with the biggest grin on her face. “It’s good to see you, how’s your Nana doing?”
“She’s still an asshole.”
Lincoln takes her elbow and shoves it into my ribs, “Be nice.”
“It runs in the family,” she teases. “Wait in here and I’ll go get Dr. Marlow.”
“He’s probably gonna want new x-rays,” Lincoln pipes up. “Could we get them either way? Just to check?”
The nurse nods, “You are probably right but let’s let him come take a look first.”
We wait in silence and every few minutes we make the most awkward eye contact, it’s like she’s over there dying to say something.
“What?” I snap. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”
She shakes her head, “Colson, you can barely walk. You should’ve come on your own, I can’t believe you didn’t.”
I growl, “Nationals are coming up, Linc. I can’t miss that race. Don’t sit there like you don’t understand.”
“I’m worried about you,” she admits. “If you aren’t riding, then it’s bad.”
I shrug, “I am riding.”
The door swings open and Dr. Marlow struts in with a clipboard of papers, dropping it in front of the computer with a thud.
“Well well well, if it isn’t one of my favorite patients.”
Lincoln’s face lights up and I give him a fist bump, “Thanks Doc. I can’t say that I’m excited to see you.”
He howls with laughter, “The feeling is mutual, kid. That last surgery of yours was brutal. Let me see the leg.”
I hop onto the table and take my shoe and sock off, my scar looking a bit darker than normal in the brighter lighting.
“When are you having the most pain?” Dr. Marlow asks, mashing down on the area around my scar. “Is it constant?”
“Well it hurts when you mash on it like that, fuck!”
“Colson!” Lincoln warns.
“It’s okay, Lincoln. We all know this one doesn’t come without an attitude.”
I growl, “Well I’m here to have my leg checked. I wouldn't be here if it didn’t hurt.”
“Let’s get some x-rays and see what we're dealing with. I don’t think we got any at your nine month follow up.”
Because I didn’t come to my nine month follow up . Or the last part of physical therapy, I think to myself.
I follow the nurse into the x-ray room and do exactly as she instructs before heading back to the room to sit with Lincoln.
“You didn’t come to your follow up appointment, did you?”
I don’t answer her, solidifying her statement.
“You didn’t. You told my dad that you were cleared to ride. You lied to him?”
The way she’s shaking her head with disappointment makes my throat dry. I hate it when she looks at me like that. I hate seeing her upset, but seeing her disappointed is worse.
So much worse.
“Colson, we have a problem.” Dr. Marlow says, coming back into the room with a giant iPad in his hands, thrusting my x-rays in my face. “Your tibia did not heal properly.”
I stare at the black and white image and notice the plates holding my bone together.
“There is still a gap there in the bone.” He points to the part of the x-ray where it does appear that the bone is missing.
“Oh my God,” Lincoln says. “It’s literally not there.”
“This is unfortunately something that happens sometimes with compound fractures.”
“What do you mean?” Lincoln asks, before I have the chance, taking control.
“The break was complicated and some of the bone didn’t grow back,” he points to the gap on the x-ray. “It’s a miracle you are walking at all. The bone isn’t strong enough to bear weight and your hardware is probably going to fail.”
What is he saying?
“How do we fix it?” Lincoln blurts. “I mean, he can’t ride like that!”
“No. It’s a tibial nonunion.” Dr. Marlow agrees, “He can’t walk like that. ”
I pull my leg away from him, “What are you saying?”
“You need another surgery, likely a bone graft to help the bone grow.”
I feel my heart sink, those words ringing over and over in my ears.
Another surgery.
Lincoln’s hand brushes the back of my bicep before snaking around and locking her arm with mine. “Can you fix it?”
Dr. Marlow nods, “I’m hopeful that we can get you walking again with no pain.”
I feel the realization hit me like a ton of bricks. “I won’t be able to race again, will I?”
He doesn’t immediately answer me, but I feel Lincoln’s grip tighten against my hand and that distracts me.
Dr. Marlow goes over a plan with me for surgery. He also instructs me to put my walking boot back on and be minimal weight bearing until I see him again. Which means I’m back on those stupid fucking crutches.
When we get back to Lincoln’s car, it feels like there is a giant rain cloud hovering over us. I can tell she’s afraid to talk to me. She’s afraid of saying the wrong thing.
“Are you upset about nationals?” she asks, barely above a whisper.
“I don’t care, Lincoln. Just take me home.”
She turns the key and doesn’t dare say another word on the way to my house.
I don’t blame her.