Chasing You

38

BRADEN

"I have a separated shoulder?" I ask again just for clarification. The doctor glances at the immense amount of people in the waiting room and then back at me. He sighs, nodding his head. I lean back against the bed.

"Yes and you will need surgery," he says, glancing over my chart. I nod my head in response, too pissed off and annoyed to give him a response.

"Wait, how long is the recovery time?" I ask him. I glance at the waiting room myself. My team, roommates, and the girls are all waiting there for me. Waiting to hear good news, this is not fucking good news. Lacey is cradling Julie's hand on her own and she looks worried. I told her she could come in here, honestly, I wanted her to come in here. But she told me it was too much and she was going to call my mom. Tyler sits beside her flicking through some gossip magazine.

"You'll be in a sling for six weeks and then you will need physical therapy," the doctor responds. This fucking blows. This isn't even my fault. If it wasn't for Jordan and his dumbass sidekick Michael Burke I would not be here right now. Jordan Kappalac just hates Asher while Burke hates us because we got him kicked off and he didn't get to control Lacey anymore. I realized on the drive here that I had no reason to be pissed at Lacey. I honestly think she wants this less than I do. I saw the way she looked at me in the training room and how she fought to get down to see me. It was stupid of me to even put the blame on her. All she has done is tried to help me and warned me to be careful with the two of them during the game.

"How long until I play again?" I ask. I am dreading the answer to this and even more, I feel like I know the answer to it.

Dr. what's his face looks at me and then my x-rays. He clears his throat, "You are out for the rest of the season."

I release air from my lungs and ignore the tightness in my chest. Benched for the rest of the fucking season all because of two assholes who never get what they deserve. I can't play basketball on the same team as Asher, Trey, and Robbie. There's no way we will all get drafted to the same spot and even more so maybe there's no way I can get drafted at this rate. Or even be a first round pick. I would be lucky to be a second round pick.

The curtain opens and Asher walks in. The doctor looks at him and gives him a smile. Of course he knows Asher Fletcher. I could have had that recognition once he left. I could have gotten to round one first pick of the draft. Now that all just went to shit.

"I'll be back in ten minutes, let me know when you want to schedule your surgery," the doctor says. Asher's eyes widen as the doctor offers me a look of sympathy and walks behind the curtain. Asher shuts the curtain blocking my view of the waiting room.

"Surgery? Dude, what the fuck did he say?" Asher asks, sitting in a chair. The chair creaks under his weight as he runs his hands through his hair. I sigh sitting up further. I wince at the pain in my shoulder and swallow. I said no to drugs because I've seen the way they have fucked up my brother. I don't want to go down that road.

"I have a separated shoulder, I have to get surgery, out for the season," I respond. It feels weird coming from my mouth. That I am out for the season and I can't play. Just watch from the sidelines. We have a tournament down in Charleston soon and I won't even be able to go. Or if I do go I will not be able to play. Just sit and watch.

I want to throw something. Better yet, I want to punch something. No, someone.

"Fuck!" Asher snaps. He inhales a breath, "Are you sure that's what he said?"

"Don't you think that's something I wouldn't fucking forget?" I snap at him. He looks at me and doesn't respond. I look away from him and stare at the cream colored curtain covering me from the patients that are also being seen here.