Page 69 of Pucked Together

"Calm down, Daddy B. Izzy's tough. She's ok."

I look at Rina, who nods in agreement.

"I need to be with her."

Keelan reaches to the call button at his right and a nurse appears in the doorway almost immediately.

"Room 707," Keelan says. "She's my sister. This is Ryker Balinger, her boyfriend. He's going to be with her in my place since—" he motions to his leg.

The nurse, the same one who had been scolding me looks from me to Keelan and then back to me, "Fine. Come with me."

"I'm coming too," says Hicks next to me.

"Me too," says Fergie.

I look at them both incredulously.

"At least until she wakes up," Fergie insists. "Then she's all yours. But we're all roomies. And roomies need to stick together.”

Hicks beams. The cut above his chin stretches out.

"I'll be there in a minute," Rina calls behind them.

"What am I, chopped liver? A man has a career-ending injury, and it's the new kid on the block that gets all the attention?"

"I think you'll be fine," I call out to Keelan as I follow the already impatient nurse back to Izzy's room with my caravan of Heatwave players.

"You can't all be in he—"

"We're brothers," the boys say at the same time.

Nurse Janice, as her nametag states, is fed up with our group already and throws her hands up as she stalks away from the door.

"All yours," she says to a woman in a white coat approaching.

"You must be Izzy Landry's family. Please come in."

We pile into her small room. The three of us all take up the majority of the empty space. The petite doctor approaches Izzy's still-sleeping frame and checks her vitals.

"Isabella has suffered what we call an anoxic brain injury. During the time of the crash, the brain was starved of oxygen, and upon impact, she received what looks to be a mild to moderate concussion."

I don't know anything about what happens to your brain if it's starved of oxygen, but I can imagine the concussion. It's common in our line of work. And depending on the severity, it can sometimes have irreversible effects.

"What are we looking at for recovery?"

"Well, mister...."

"Ryker. Just, Ryker."

"Alright, Mr. Ryker. We'll need to keep Isabella here for observation. She's currently in a medically induced coma to keep the swelling in her brain to a minimum. Once we've seen some improvement, we'll be able to take her off the machines and have her breathe on her own."

"Will she...will she be, ok, doc?" My voice cracks slightly, and I curse internally for almost breaking.

Fergie's hand lands supportively on my shoulder.

"Like I said, we won't know the full extent of her condition until the swelling goes down, but that might be a few days."

A few days. A few months. I didn't care.