Page 22 of Tough Score
“Good, then it's settled,” Coach Bex adds with a nod. “I need to get back to the stadium and update the coaching staff and players. Keely, I leave you in charge. If you can get him back to at least practicing with the team in a couple of months, hopefully, he'll be strong enough to start next season for us.”
“Wait, what? Next season?”
“Yes,” Sam assures, glancing at me with a hint of pride in his eyes. “We don't want you to overdo it. If you reinjure your knee, we could lose our shot at getting you back on the ice at all.”
Silence washes over us as Keely takes a deep breath, seeming to weigh the pressure put on her shoulders, but she doesn't look like she intends to back out. Finally, she looks down at me, the light catching her auburn hair, her green eyes locking on mine.
"Six weeks. I only need six weeks.“ I tell them, something in Keely's eyes tells me that I need to make this happen.
"Are you sure about this?” she says softly.
I stare back into her eyes.
I'm sure about one thing... Keely Woods is about to change my life forever.
"Put me in, coach."
Chapter Seven
Keely
After leaving the hospital yesterday, I went straight home and got to work on brushing up on my knowledge of meniscus injuries and how best to go forward. I called my old PT, Dr. Jacobs, and she was helpful in devising a plan for his therapy.
Just as I got off the phone with Dr. Jacobs, I got a text.
Unknown: Hi Keely. This is Penelope Roberts. The Assistant General Manager for the Hawkeyes. The property management company confirmed your apartment is available but you won't be able to move in until they re-key it. They said they'll have someone down there in two days to get you new keys.
I instantly add Penelope to my phone. I have a feeling I'll need her contact information.
Keely: Thanks Penelope. That won't be a problem. I'll get the key whenever they have it.
Penelope: Great! I'll keep you posted. Thank you for being so flexible and jumping in to help Reeve on such short notice.
Keely: I owe him one.
The next day, I spend most of it rushing around from store to store picking up everything that I think Reeve might need when he gets home.
Though my job title is PT for this position, in all reality, my responsibilities will be significantly more extensive than that.
Already today, I picked up crutches, a wheelchair, and a shower walker since Reeve won't be allowed to submerge his surgery incisions until the stitches dissolve on their own, and a few other things to make his life a little easier.
Brent Tomlin, the Hawkeyes left wing and Slade Matthews, the center, who also all live in The Commons, came by earlier to grab the wheelchair from the apartment and a pair of loose gym shorts and a t-shirt for Reeve to come home in before they left for the hospital to pick him up.
I also picked up all of his meds from the pharmacy and a few PT items that we'll be able to use during our stretches, which I'll want to start him on as soon as possible. If we want to get him back on the ice in six weeks and I want to earn that PT opening position, he and I both have our work cut out for us.
Standing in the kitchen, organizing his meds, I notice one important item is missing. There are no pain meds in the pharmacy bag. I didn't bother to go through the bottles when they handed me the bag, I just assumed it would all be there.
I pulled out the list of prescriptions on the receipt and noticed that no pain meds were listed there either.
Weird.
I'll have to call the hospital and ask them to send a new prescription to the pharmacy for me. He'll need them to get through the pain of the surgery but also the hoops I'm about to make him jump through to get him fit to skate again.
I pick up my phone to call, but then I hear the front door of the apartment open.
"We're home!" I hear a male voice call out.
The sound of a wheelchair being pushed down the short hallway into the large one-bedroom apartment echoes through the space, and then I see Brent pushing Reeve toward the living room with Slade behind them, carrying a backpack, a pillow, and a sleeping bag.