Passing Through

Part Forty Four

 Chapter Forty Four

"This is what?" Bo thumbed the woven fabric that now half covered his sofa.

Natasha rolled her eyes, "that's a throw, and those are the matching cushions, you are not a heathen, Mr Holding."

He tried to hide the smirk as he looked around at the transformation. His small dining table now had a patterned 'runner', or that's what Natasha called the narrow cloth that ran along the centre of it. Then there was the glass vase, that held some greenery, leaves more than flowers, but it did brighten up his home. She had filled a couple of photo frames with the only snaps he had brought with him, and a large stock beach image sat on one of the walls.

Everything coordinated, in a way that he would never have managed, and he had to admit, whilst it was a long way from cosy, it was a lot more inviting than it had been. He wasn't sure it would ever feel like a home, but it was no longer sterile. And he could appreciate that.

"So when are they coming? Your parents?"

He was unloading some groceries in the small kitchen when she asked that.

"They were talking about in the next couple of weeks..." he dropped his head for a moment, then looked back up at her. "But I've had more headaches."

She dropped everything...immediately, and rushed over to him, "you never said. Have you told Coop? Do you need to see the doctor?"

He shook his head, "I'm keeping a record of them, and I am being honest, but it probably means it'll be another four weeks at least before I can play a game, so I'm trying to put them off until then." When she looked at him earnestly, he added, "what else do I have to show them? I've not exactly branched out here, and other than work, and spending time with you...I do nothing."

She ran her hand up his arm, "that's bullshit, but I'm not going to argue with you."

She stayed, which he loved, but he knew he had to take things slowly. Last time they went from nothing to spending almost every night together in a few days, time, maybe a little distance, would help her realise he was serious?

After an early breakfast, he messaged Matt, the team doctor, and he replied with an appointment with his specialist neurologist at nine thirty. As he dressed, he called Coop and explained, there was no training on a Monday, but that didn't mean he wouldn't have seen his coach. On the way to the hospital, he called to Heaven and Hell. So much for distance!

He drank a coffee, perched next to the counter, and chatted to Natasha as she served the early customers.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you? I can get some cover."

He shook his head, part of the new Bo Holding, was standing up and facing the reality. He had to do this alone.

"I'll call you afterwards?"

The doctor was a little more optimistic than he had imagined, still early days, delay your activity. All more positive than you'll never play again. He was finally able to separate this injury from the hell that his knee had been. But it still meant more time with nothing to do. Reduced training, more time sitting and dwelling.

Maybe he could 'take up a hobby' as Natasha suggested. But he literally had no interests, he wasn't happy to spend twelve hour days playing his Xbox and watching TV box sets. He wasn't able to play any other sports, even golf was too taxing according to the consultant,