FROM LACROSSE TO HIS ARMS

Chapter two: Thirty days

I opened my eyes slowly, but the bright lights above me almost blinded me instantly. I squeezed my eyes shut again and waited for the sting to fade.

Then the smell hit me. Antiseptic, clean sheets and medicine.

My fingers twitched against the stiff hospital blanket beneath me. I slowly opened my eyes again and looked around.

White walls surrounded me. A heart monitor beeped quietly beside the bed, its steady sound almost too calm for the storm inside my head. A clear drip hung beside me and there was a small cabinet beside the bed with a chair pushed against the wall.

I frowned.

Where was I?

I stared at the drip for a few seconds before looking around again, then it hit me.

The hospital.

"What happened?" I muttered.

My voice sounded weak, almost unfamiliar.

I forced myself to sit up, but the moment I moved, pain shot through my body.

I gasped and grabbed the blanket, then the memories came rushing back. The stadium, the game, the collision and the sound of my bone snapping.

My eyes widened.

I slowly looked toward the end of the bed. My right leg was stretched out beneath the blanket, wrapped heavily from my thigh down to my ankle. A large medical brace surrounded my knee, keeping it from bending, while several pillows supported my leg and even the smallest movement sent a dull ache through my body.

My stomach twisted and I almost screamed.

So it was all real. It wasn't a dream after all.

My career was ruined that night. I had failed my mother and I had destroyed her legacy.

My eyes burned as tears gathered. I was about to sob when the door creaked open.

I quickly wiped my tears with the back of my hand and turned toward the door.

Lo and behold, it was my mother.

She walked into the room with a smile on her face, her phone pressed against her ear. She sounded completely different from the woman I had seen on the field.

"Ohh, she'll visit soon enough. Thanks for caring. It's just a little fracture. She will be back on the field soon. I promise."

She smiled as she spoke, almost laughing softly at the person on the other end.

Then the call ended. Her smile disappeared.

She slipped her phone into her bag and walked toward me.

"Mum." I called softly.

Her expression hardened immediately.

"Don't you dare mum me. What were you thinking?"

Her voice echoed through the room.

A few minutes ago, she had been smiling and pretending everything was fine. Now she was shouting at me as if I had committed some unforgivable crime.

I stared at her, unable to believe what I was hearing. I had expected comfort. A hug.

Maybe even a simple, I'm glad you're alive.

Instead, she stood beside my hospital bed and looked at me like I had disappointed her.

"Do you know how many scouts were there today?"

She hissed the words, her eyes narrowing.

"You had one job, Chase."

My fingers curled tightly around the blanket. I squeezed it until my knuckles turned white.

I didn't want her to see me cry. Not now, not in front of her.

"You threw away everything we worked for. The legacy."

Her words cut deeper than I expected.

"All you care about is the legacy. My leg is gone, and this is all you could think of right now. I don't even know if I could ever play Lacrosse again. How can you be so mean?"

My voice cracked. The tears I had been holding back finally spilled down my cheeks.

"Don't you dare guilt trip me. Everything I have done was for you. You ungrateful child."

She slammed her hand against the table beside her. The cups and medicine containers jumped, some falling to the floor with a loud clatter.

I flinched.

My heart started pounding. My breathing became heavy, and I swallowed hard as I watched her.

I had seen this side of her before. The side that made me afraid to speak. The side that made me measure every word before letting it leave my mouth, but I had never felt this helpless around her before. Not with my leg wrapped up and the pain still burning through me.

"I almost died out there, Mom."

For a moment, she said nothing, then she smiled. It wasn't the warm smile from her phone call. It was cold.

"And yet you're still alive."

My chest tightened. Before I could respond, she stepped closer and grabbed my jaw. Her fingers dug into my skin.

I winced.

"Mum, it hurts." I groaned in pain.

She didn't let go. Instead, she leaned closer, forcing me to look directly into her eyes.

"Look closely, my honey bun. I have made a lot of excuses for you your whole life, and I won't let this ruin everything we have worked for. The scouts will be coming back soon, and you must be prepared. You have to be nursed back to health and be back on that field. Do I make myself clear?"

Her grip tightened for another second. I couldn't breathe properly and I didn't answer.

My body was still shaking beneath the blanket.

"Are you deaf?" she screamed.

"Yes, yes, mother."

The words came out barely above a whisper.

She released me so suddenly that my head jerked to the side. My body shifted toward the edge of the bed, and for a second, I almost hit my head against the table.

I caught myself with one hand.

"Cry all you want. That's what you're good at."

She hissed the words before turning around.

She walked toward the door and left without looking back.

She didn't even bother shutting it. The door remained slightly open.

I stared at it, then I broke down completely.

"No..."

My shoulders shook as I covered my face.

This couldn't be happening.

I had spent years working for this.

Years training until my body hurt, listening to my mother tell me that I had to be better, stronger, faster and believing that if I became good enough, maybe she would finally be proud of me.

And now everything could be gone.

Just like that.

I looked toward my injured leg. I couldn't accept this. I couldn't accept that one accident had taken everything from me.

My chest tightened.

"Maybe I just need to stand up and walk. Right, I can do this."

I wiped my face. I had to try.

If I could stand, maybe everything wasn't over.

Maybe the doctors were wrong and I could still play Lacrosse.

I pulled out the drip The sharp sting made me flinch, and a tiny bead of blood appeared where the needle had been.

I ignored it.

Slowly, I pushed the blanket aside. My injured leg was wrapped tightly and locked inside a medical brace, but at least I could move it slightly.

I knew I wasn't supposed to get out of bed, but I didn't care anymore. I needed to know if my leg still worked.

I lowered my good foot to the floor and gripped the side of the bed. I pushed myself up.

For one second, I managed to stand, keeping all my weight on my good leg, then my injured leg shifted. Pain shot through my knee, my balance disappeared, and I crashed to the floor.

I clenched my teeth as tears filled my eyes again.

I refused to give up.

My hands were trembling.

"Come on, Chase..." I whispered to myself.

Using the bed for support, I pulled myself up again. My good leg shook beneath me as I took one tiny step, then another.

"Just walk." I took one shaky step.

My foot slipped instantly. I lost my balance and fell forward.

I was certain my head was about to hit the floor when a strong hand suddenly caught my wrist and another arm wrapped around my waist.

My breath caught.

For a moment, I couldn't move. Someone was holding me.

I could feel his arm supporting my waist and his hand gripping my wrist firmly enough to keep me upright.

I slowly opened my eyes.

"Trying to walk on that already?" The voice was soft.

I looked down at the hand around my waist, then slowly lifted my eyes.

I froze.

Who was that?

He was a complete stranger. I had never seen him before.

His blue eyes were fixed on mine, calm despite the chaos around us. Blonde hair fell slightly across his forehead, and his sharp jawline gave his face a serious look that somehow didn't match the small smile playing on his lips.

He was wearing navy blue medical scrubs and a badge was clipped to his chest. For a second, I wondered if he was one of the nurses.

His eyes dropped to my hospital gown, then to my injured leg.

"Who are you?"

My voice came out sharper than I intended. He looked back at me.

“The person who just stopped you from making your injury worse.”

I frowned.

"I don't need your pity or help." The words came out immediately.

He didn't argue. Instead, he slowly released his hold around my waist and helped me sit back on the bed.

The moment he stepped closer, I caught his scent. Something clean and warm mixed with the sharp smell of antiseptic and medicine that filled the hospital room.

I hated that I noticed.

"I'm not pitying you. I'm just doing my job."

He smiled.

For some reason, that smile annoyed me even more.

I had spent my entire life surrounded by smiles that never meant what they seemed to mean. My mother's smiles. Coaches' smiles. Strangers' smiles whenever they praised me.

Most of them disappeared the moment I stopped being useful. So I didn't trust smiles anymore.

I raised my brows and stared at him. He stared back, then his eyes moved toward the empty spot beside my hand. He saw the drip and he looked at the tube hanging loose from my arm.

"I guess we've got a wild patient here. You even took out your own drip. That's impressive." He gave a small scoff.

I glared at him.

"And do I know who you are?"

He looked almost amused by my frustration.

"I'll call the doctor to come fix you up, and don't try to walk on that yet. You could really delay your healing process."

He pointed toward my injured leg.

"Keep your advice to yourself."

I folded my arms, ignoring the pain shooting through my body.

He only smiled.

"I've dealt with lots of patients like you. You'll be fine, hun."

My eyes widened.

"I am not your hun." I nearly shouted.

He sighed and shook his head.

"I have other business to handle. Be safe."

He turned around.

Something about him leaving so casually irritated me. Before I could stop myself, I spoke.

"What's your name?"

He paused. Slowly, he turned around. His blue eyes met mine again.

"Thierry."

He pointed at the badge on his scrub. My eyes followed his finger.

THIERRY.

I raised my brows.

He smiled again before turning around and walking out. I watched him disappear through the door, still annoyed by the strange man.

I had no idea why he had bothered helping me, but at least he was gone.

I looked down at my leg again. The room suddenly felt too quiet. The pain in my body was nothing compared to the emptiness in my chest.

I had no idea what my life was supposed to look like now.

For twenty years, I had known exactly what I wanted.

Lacrosse, the field, the crowds, scouts, the feeling of holding my stick and knowing exactly what to do. Now I couldn't even stand without falling.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Maybe this was my life now.

A hospital bed, a broken leg, ruined career and a mother who would never let me forget that I had failed.

The door opened again. I looked toward it.

My mother walked inside, but she wasn't alone. Someone followed behind her.

My breath caught.

The navy blue scrubs, blonde hair and those blue eyes.

It was him.

The stranger who had caught me. The one who had called me hun.

He looked at me and gave me the same calm expression. I stared between him and my mother. Something wasn't right.

"I hope you enjoyed meeting him."

My mother asked as she walked toward the bed. I looked at her suspiciously.

“Who is he and what is he doing here?"

She smiled.

“Meet your physiotherapist.”

My heart sank.

“What?”

She stepped closer to my bed.

“You have exactly one month to recover, Chase, or you can kiss everything goodbye because I won't pamper you any longer."

I stared at her in shock.

One month.

My leg was broken. My career was hanging by a thread and my mother expected me to return to the field in thirty days.

I looked at Thierry.

He didn't look surprised. He only folded his arms and studied me quietly. And somehow, she believed he could make it happen.

Thierry's lips curved into that irritating smile again.

"Hey, Chase. We haven't had a proper introduction."

I stared at him.

The man I had just told to keep his advice to himself was now supposed to get me back on the field.

And judging by the look in his eyes, I had a feeling he was going to make the next thirty days hell.