Covering Kendall(63)

Kendall called Sydney back. “I’m getting some more info. Thank you for the text.”

“You’re welcome,” Sydney said. “Do you need me to get you a plane ticket?”

“They’ll bring him back to Seattle as soon as they can get him released. Maybe I should go there instead.” Imagining how much pain Drew had to be in made her want to cry. Even worse, if the reports Paul was getting were accurate, Drew’s pro football career might be over.

She needed to get to him. First, though, she needed to handle a few things with the Miners.



DREW FLEW BACK to Seattle the next day with Coach Stewart in the Sharks’ owner’s private jet. He was still under the influence of hospital-grade pharmaceuticals, but he’d seen the X-rays and the results of the MRI he’d had late last night. It didn’t look good for his shoulder or for his future career.

The coach spent most of the plane ride watching game film. Head coaches were expected to keep a distance of sorts from their players so they could dispassionately deliver bad news. Coach Stewart must have been of the opinion that management style was stupid.

“We’ll be home in a few hours, McCoy.” He glanced over at Drew. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? Need more pain meds?”

Drew managed to crack a smile. “I’m good. Maybe I should try to take a nap or something.”

“That’s always a great idea. Plus, you’ll want to be rested for your welcoming committee,” the coach joked. The “welcoming committee” would consist of whoever was taking him for yet another MRI and more testing.

Drew’s phone was in the garment bag that had been stowed in the luggage hold by a Sharks employee. He’d talked with his mom a little last night from the hospital. Her employers were nice enough to give her a couple of weeks off so she could take care of him post-surgery. She’d be at his house when he got home later, but he hadn’t been able to text Kendall yet. He wasn’t allowed the use of his cell phone in the hospital room. He knew she had her own problems, but he needed her. She probably couldn’t leave work for a day right now. He got that she loved her job. He loved his job too. If he really wanted to make a relationship endure between them, though, they would have to discuss how to handle each other’s schedules.

This type of emergency would probably never happen again, but it might be nice to have a plan when she was seven hundred air miles away from Seattle and he couldn’t get himself on a plane without significant assistance. Injuries weren’t unheard-of in his job. As a matter of fact, the injury rate in the NFL was one hundred percent.

It wasn’t if he got hurt, it was when he got hurt, and how badly. Teams invested huge sums of money in the best medical care and conditioning staff they could obtain. The league’s go-to surgeon was located in Georgia and insisted patients fly to him if a procedure was needed. Drew wanted the best surgeon he could possibly get, but he also didn’t want to spend the next four to six months rehabilitating in Georgia.

“I’m guessing I have another doctor’s appointment when we get home,” Drew said to Coach Stewart.

“That would be a yes. Dr. Ellis will do the procedure,” Coach Stewart said. “His office is on Capitol Hill, and you can rehab with us. We talked with him earlier. He’d like to perform the surgery on Wednesday morning. He’s operated on several of your teammates with a lot of success, as well as guys from the baseball team and the soccer team. Would you like to talk with him beforehand?”

“Yeah, I would.”

Drew shifted uncomfortably in the airplane seat. He knew he’d had enough medication to knock a bear on his ass, but he felt a sharp twinge of pain whenever he moved the right side of his body. He shouldn’t bitch. If he was in a traditional airline seat, they would have had to sedate him to get him home. He was looking forward to seeing his mom, but he really wanted Kendall right now.

He knew he wouldn’t be dazzling company. Holding her hand might be nice. He’d appreciate her simply being in the same room with him.

Four hours later, he stepped gingerly off of a small staircase and was strapped into a black Suburban with tinted windows.

“Hey, Drew. Heard you’re a little under the weather,” the guy behind the wheel said. Drew recognized him as part of the Sharks’ security detail. “I’m Chuck. I’ll be taking you to the surgeon’s office.”

“Thanks. I feel like shit.”

One of the Sharks’ training staff got into the front passenger seat.

“Good to see you, McCoy.”

Drew gave him a nod and flinched. He couldn’t move at all without pain. His shoulder was in a sling, but it wasn’t helping.