The crowd in Phoenix was electric, lights flashing, guitars echoing across the arena as the band warmed up for the show. Backstage, the hum of crew members, last-minute sound checks, and the low thrum of excitement buzzed through the corridors.
Lori stepped carefully into the backstage area, trying not to look too awkward in the walking boot strapped to her left foot. Her arrival didn't go unnoticed. Christine, adjusting a mic pack near the stage entrance, caught sight of her first and gave her a once-over before her eyes landed squarely on the boot.
Christine blinked. "What the hell happened to you?"
Lori offered a sheepish smile. "It was stupid. Really stupid."
"What'd you do? Fight a vending machine?" Christine teased, already walking toward her.
Lori let out a quiet breath, shifting slightly where she sat, her expression softening as the memory came back to her—not fond, exactly, but vivid.
"No," she said, a small chuckle slipping through. "Jessica was visiting..."
Her gaze drifted for a moment, like she wasn't quite in the room anymore.
"I remember I'd gone upstairs to grab my phone," she continued, her voice taking on that distant, storytelling tone. "I'd left it on the dresser—typical. Jess was downstairs with Roman, and I thought, I'll just run up quick, grab it, be right back. Nothing dramatic."
She shook her head faintly.
"The house was quiet upstairs. I grabbed my phone, turned around, and started back down the stairs. And I don't know how I missed it before—I really don't—but right there, halfway down..." She paused, wincing slightly at the memory. "One of Roman's toys. Small, plastic—some little figure or piece from a set. I must've stepped right onto it."
Her hand unconsciously moved toward her ankle as she spoke.
"My foot twisted sideways—completely wrong angle—and I just... went down. Hard." She exhaled sharply. "There was this crack—not loud, but enough that I felt it more than heard it. And the pain—God—"
Her voice hitched slightly.
"It shot straight up my leg. Immediate. Sharp. I couldn't even catch myself properly—I just hit the floor and—" she winced, "—I couldn't stop it. I let out this... this half-scream. Not even loud, just—pain ripping out before I could stop it."
She swallowed.
"And I remember just lying there for a second, staring at the ceiling, trying to process what had just happened, and all I could think was, something's really wrong."
Her eyes softened again.
"Jess heard me right away. I could hear her running—'Mom?! Mom, what happened?!'—and then she was there, right at the bottom of the stairs, dropping to her knees beside me."
Lori's voice gentled, warming.
"She looked terrified. 'Are you okay? Can you move?' she kept asking, hands hovering like she didn't know where to touch without hurting me."
"I told her, 'I slipped... on a toy... I think I messed up my foot,' trying to keep my voice steady, but it hurt so bad I could barely get the words out."
She let out a small breath.
"And then—right as I'm saying that—Roman walks in."
Lori smiled faintly, even now.
"He's just standing there, eyes wide, taking it all in. And I'm sitting on the floor, in pain, and I still found myself softening my voice." She shook her head. "I said, 'Roman, sweetheart... you need to keep your toys in one area—not on the stairs. Someone could get really hurt.'"
