Touch & Go (The Midwest Series Book 3) by Brigham Vaughn

Author:Brigham Vaughn [Vaughn, Brigham]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Two Peninsulas Press
Published: 2019-09-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

JUNE 30, 2013 - DOWNTOWN CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

Micah

“Micah? I made it.”

Micah swam out of a thick haze of sleep, blinked, and squinted at the guy leaning over the bed, peering down at him. His heart leapt in his throat at the sight of sun-bleached hair and blue eyes but fell when the face came into focus … Brent. Disappointment washed over him.

For a second, he’d thought it was Justin, and he was annoyed at how much he wanted him there.

“Brent?” Micah cleared his throat and blinked a couple more times, trying to focus. “You really here or is it the drugs, man?”

“I’m here.” Brent stepped up to the bed and touched his arm. “How are you doing?”

Micah shook his head and fumbled for the controls on the bed. It was awkward using his left hand. Better get used to it, Warner. Your right is well and truly out of commission for a while. He finally managed to raise the head of the bed until he was upright. “I’m on so many pain meds I don’t know what the fuck’s going on,” he groused.

“Yeah?” Brent pulled a chair up next to the bed and sat. “Any word on the surgery yet?”

Micah scowled down at the sling his arm was immobilized in. “I’m scheduled for later today. But all the scans pretty much say the same thing. My shoulder’s completely fucked, my career is over, and I’m never going to be able to throw another damned ball.”

That wasn’t exactly true. This morning, he’d met Dr. Neal Powell, orthopedic surgeon for the entire franchise. He was a good-looking middle-aged guy who looked a bit like a former player himself, the kind who ran marathons, drove a fancy sports car, and had a trophy wife.

Micah didn’t want the car or the trophy wife. All he wanted a multi-million-dollar contract for was to make his mom and sister comfortable. He didn’t want a big-ass house or a boat or any of the flashy trappings a lot of players went for. Mom and Carla were his priority. They were everything that mattered.

Dr. Powell had gone over Micah’s test results and thrown out words like “structured post-operative rehabilitation compliance” and said encouraging things about his chances of recovery. But Micah knew what the odds were. And they weren’t good.

Brent winced. “I’m sorry. That really sucks. I hoped they’d find out it wasn’t as bad as they first thought.”

“Nope. My life is fucking over, man, and there’s nothing anyone can do.” Micah turned his head to stare out the window, hoping Brent couldn’t see the tears. All that work for nothing.

Once he’d composed himself, he turned back and glared at Brent. “I don’t know why the hell you bothered to come anyway. It’s not like I’m worth anything now.”

“Dude, you’re my friend. Of course, I came. It took me a little while to get here. I had to figure out how to get back from Houghton without crashing, but I drove all night with a stop for a couple of hours of sleep.

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