Breaking Tackles: A Taking Flight Novel (34 page)

Probably because everyone was checking in with Adam or my parents.

I text my friends, letting them know that I’m awake and feeling better, promising them that I’m eating, and then check Facebook, where I have nearly fifty new notifications. I realize, with humiliation, that most of them are “hope you’re doing well” type messages, which confirms that the story of my hospitalization is out. I consider finding the story so I can know exactly what’s being peddled, but decide against it, remembering Ana’s advice about the media.

My phone buzzes and as I look down at the text, the door opens and the doctors walk in, so I put the phone on the nightstand.

The doctor introduces himself and explains to me what Adam told me last night—my body had literally run out of energy and shut down to conserve the small amount of energy it still had. Then the doctor introduces the nutritionist and says that if I need anything else, to let him know.

Then I’m alone with the nutritionist, Dr. Carter. She’s probably in her thirties and isn’t what I thought a nutritionist would look like. She isn’t particularly thin or fit. All in all, she looks very normal.

“So,” she says. “Why don’t you tell me how this happened.”

“I stopped eating.”

She smiles and says, “Well, yes. But why did you stop eating?”

I take a deep breath and say, “It’s kind of a complicated answer. But the short version is that I felt fat, so I started dieting and working out, and liked how it felt when I started losing weight. So I kept dieting and working out, and then became obsessed with losing weight.”

“Okay,” she says, nodding. I’m pretty sure she’s going to press for more information, but she doesn’t. “Your chart says here that you’re 5’8”.”

“That’s right.”

“Do you know how much you weigh right now?” she asks, and I nod, hyper-aware of the 132 pounds I now weigh. “Do you know that for women of your size and bone density, a healthy weight is 145 pounds?”

I shake my head, shocked. That’s only ten pounds less than what I weighed when I started dieting.

“Your chart also says that you ate this morning. That’s great.”

“I was hungry,” I say. “Is that weird?”

“Not at all,” she says. “I’m going to ask you what may be an uncomfortable question. Did you purge?”

Holy shit. She thinks I have an eating disorder.

“No,” I say, horrified.

“Have you ever?”

“No,” I say firmly, grimacing at the thought. “Never.”

She smiles and says, “Okay, good. So tell me about your diet and exercise.”

I fill her in, letting her know the details of how I kept narrowing my diet and upping my work out schedule. How any time I saw photos of myself, I saw issues with my body that I wanted to fix. How I wanted to look good because I knew there would be cameras on me because of who my fiancé is. She listens and nods and makes notes, but never interrupts me. When I’m finished speaking, she’s quiet for a couple moments.

“So,” she says. “What you just described to me sounds like a combination of body dismorphic disorder and disordered eating. Have you heard these terms before?”

I nod, recalling them from high school health class and a seminar from my freshmen year the RAs held about healthy eating.

“Basically, this just means that your eating habits are abnormal and that you don’t see yourself accurately. You fixate on the bad things, which may or may not even be there.”

I nod, but am pretty sure I wasn’t hallucinating my muffin top. But I do have to acknowledge that I’ve been going overboard recently.

“Do you want to get better, Courtney?”

“Yes,” I say. “I know that I can’t keep dieting the way I have been. I told several people just yesterday that I was going to start reintroducing foods into my diet and figure out how to maintain my weight.”

“That’s great,” she says. “But you do need to gain some weight back to be healthy. Which may be really hard to do, since you just lost the weight, and it’s possible that you’ll want to start restricting food again once you start gaining. But I’m going to give you a few tips on how to help with everything. Your chart says that you don’t currently live in New Orleans, so I’m also going to give you the names of a few nutritionists in your area. I think it would be worth it to schedule an appointment with one of them to talk through everything.”

“Okay,” I say, and she proceeds to advise me to keep a journal, documenting what and when I eat and when I exercise, as well as any thoughts I have about my body, weight, food, and stress. I’m not super into the idea at first, but the more I think about it, the more it seems like it’s a good thing to do. It would give me an outlet to record everything when I’m feeling bad about myself without having to talk about it.

She then gives me a suggested diet, with how many calories per day I should be consuming in order to gain back some weight in a healthy way.

“Do you have any questions about any of this?”

Looking over the materials, I shake my head. “It all seems pretty clear.”

“Good,” Dr. Carter says. “I’ll make sure that the list of nutritionists as well as an extra copy of all the materials I’ve given you is with the discharge nurse.”

“Discharge nurse?”

She nods. “If you’re feeling up to it, you can be discharged today. But if you’re still feeling too weak or if you just want to rest here, feel free to do that.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” she says. “And Courtney? Don’t beat yourself up about this.”

“Am I that transparent?”

“Not really,” Dr. Carter says. “But you remind me of me. Except I was bulimic at your age. I wasn’t in denial about it. I knew I had a problem. I knew I wanted to get better. And, I won’t lie, it was hard. If I could overcome that, it should be a cakewalk for you to overcome this. But you have to be good to yourself. Mentally and physically. Talk to yourself the way you would talk to your friends. Unless, of course, you beat your friends up verbally.”

I laugh at that, but really think over what she said. I need to be good to myself. Mentally. Which I don’t think I am right now. I do beat myself up. All the time. And when my friends try to compliment me or tell me something positive about my appearance, I assume that they don’t really mean it and are only saying it to make me feel good.

Which isn’t fair. To me or to them.

“Be well, Courtney,” Dr. Carter says before she slips out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Alone again, I pick up my phone and read the texts from my friends, letting me know that they’re so glad I’m feeling better and telling me how much they love me. I hug my phone to my chest and let myself bask in the knowledge that I have so many people who support me and care about me. I’m lucky.

And I need to remember that.

Adam

While we’re at breakfast, Amanda has one of the assistants drive my Jeep over. Then I call my offensive coordinator to let him know what’s going on and ask if I’ll need to show to watch tape. He tells me that I’m clear for the day and wishes Courtney the best. After that’s squared away, Courtney’s parents let me know that they want to get back to the hospital, so I drop them off before heading over to my apartment for a quick shower and change of clothes.

I strip off my shirt, throw it in the laundry hamper, and sit down in my bed, which is a mistake. I now feel exhausted and all I want is to lie down and take a nap. With Courtney
in the hospital
, I can’t believe I’m even considering it. As I reach over to my phone to put on my game day playlist in hopes that will wake me up, the phone rings and Sophie’s name pops up on my screen.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey back,” she says. “So, it’s possible that a few of us are driving down to New Orleans.”

“Whoa,” I say, sitting up. “You’re in New Orleans?”

“Not quite yet,” she says, laughing. “Still a couple hours out.”

“It’s Monday,” I say. “You’re missing class.”

“Yes. In fact, Kate, Willa, Luke, and I are all missing class. And Ryan took a couple days off work. One of our best friends is hospitalized. We want to be there for her.”

“Of course,” I say. I should have seen this coming. And I’m thrilled that they’re going to be here.

“So, where should we go when we get to town?” she asks. “To the hospital?”

“If you want,” I say, and as soon as the words are out of my mouth, the call waiting beeps in my ear. I look at the phone and see that Courtney is dialing in.

“Hey, Sophie, can you hold on for a minute?”

“Yep,” she says, and I click over. “Hey, babe.”

“Hey! I’m being discharged this afternoon.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep,” she says. “I just met with the nutritionist and it actually went well. She gave me some good advice on how to handle my dieting and everything. And she told me that she’s submitting the discharge papers.”

“That’s great,” I say. “Are your parents already back in the room with you?”

“A nurse told me that they’re on their way now that the doctors have left,” she says. “Are you still at your apartment?”

“Yep.”

“Could you bring me a change of clothes? And my toiletry bag?”

“Of course,” I say, the wheels turning in my head. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes or so.”

“Thanks. I love you.”

“I love you, too. See you soon.”

We hang up and when I go to click back over, I see that Sophie hung up, so I call her back.

“Sorry about that,” I say when she picks up. “That was Courtney. She’s actually being discharged. So, why don’t you guys come over to my place?”

“That’s great news! And, yeah, that sounds good. Just text me your address and we’ll make our way there.”

“Will do. See y’all soon!”

I hang up, send Sophie my address, and go over to Courtney’s suitcase to grab a change of clothes for her. As I’m browsing through the bag, my phone rings. I figure its Sophie again and don’t bother looking at the caller ID.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hi, Adam,” a woman says.

“Sorry,” I say, immediately on high alert. “I thought this was going to be someone else. Who am I speaking with?”

“It’s Melissa Montgomery,” she says, and I feel dumb for not recognizing her voice.

“Hey, Melissa. Sorry about that.”

“No worries. I’m sure you’ve been busy this morning. I just wanted to call and check on how Courtney is doing.”

“She’s good. She got a little more sleep after y’all left last night and woke up wanting to eat. Her parents and I left to get some breakfast, and she just called to let me know that she had a good meeting with the nutritionist and is being discharged this afternoon.”

“That’s wonderful news,” Melissa says. “Do you have plans for tonight? Or do you think everyone will want to stay in?”

“It all depends on how Courtney feels. But she’s sounded good all day, and it’s her parents’ first time in New Orleans, so I figure we’ll be doing something. And actually, I just got a call from her friends from school, and a bunch of them and one of her brothers drove down last night and should be here in a couple hours.”

“Oh wow,” Melissa says. “So you’ll need to entertain people in your one-bedroom apartment. Why don’t you let me plan a dinner at our house? I promise it’ll be low-key. Courtney’s family and friends, me and Jax, and Deeks, if you’d like.”

“That would be amazing,” I say. “Are you sure that’s okay? I don’t want to put you out.”

“Perfectly okay,” she says. “To be honest, I’m going to order takeout and just put it on fancy-looking dishes. I promise I won’t be put out at all.”

“Okay, Melissa,” I say, laughing along with her.

“So what time is Courtney being discharged?”

“I think the paperwork was just put through, so probably in the next couple hours.”

“Okay, great,” Melissa says. “If you want, your friends can come straight here, if that’s easier.”

“Oh,” I say, loving the idea of surprising Courtney, but remembering that I promised her I’d cool it with the surprises. But in this case, I feel like maybe she’ll make an exception. “Yeah, let’s do it. You sure you’re okay with a car full of college kids and a twenty-something coming by the house?”

“Definitely,” she says. “I’ll put them on babysitting and party prep duty.”

I laugh, thanking her, and when we hang up, I text Sophie the change in plans while I finish getting Courtney’s stuff together. Sophie texts back a million emojis that don’t really go together at all when I send her the Montgomerys address and I smile at the phone. Melissa has no idea what she’s in for.

I quickly shower and get dressed before grabbing the stuff Courtney requested. With everything ready to go, I head out to my Jeep and drive back to the hospital.

It ends up taking a lot longer for Courtney to be discharged than we thought it would. We figured it’d be a couple hours, but we didn’t expect four.

After Courtney showered and changed clothes, we all went down to the hospital cafeteria to grab lunch. Since then, Courtney’s been restless. And I can’t blame her.

As she breezily chats with her parents about the wedding plans she and Ashton are working on, the game tomorrow, her brothers, her mom’s class this year, her dad’s construction company, I’ve been texting with everyone, giving them the updates of “Still waiting” every hour. Melissa has sworn that it’s not a problem for everyone to be over, but she’s also not the one who is getting texts from all their friends of selfies from around the Montgomerys house.

Though my favorite was of Luke, wide-eyed and gazing with love at Jax’s Heisman trophy.

Finally, a nurse comes in and lets us know that Courtney has finally been discharged.

After Courtney signs some paperwork, she’s put in a wheelchair—hospital policy, apparently—and we’re escorted outside. Once we’re out, Courtney pops out of the wheelchair and we walk over to my Jeep.

“So what’s the plan?” she asks no one in particular.

I told her parents about dinner—and the surprise, which they already knew about from Ryan—when Courtney was in the bathroom earlier. Both her parents look to me to answer the question.

“Actually, Melissa invited us for dinner.”

“That’s so nice,” she says, smiling before plugging her phone in to charge. Once it’s plugged in, it immediately turns on and she immediately begins going through emails. “Amanda is the best.”

“What’d she do?” I ask.

“Rescheduled my flight from today to tomorrow night. I hadn’t even thought about that.”

“Oh. Me neither,” I say, grateful for Amanda.

Courtney’s parents ooh and aah at the city as we drive through, and I feel a little bad about taking them to the Montgomerys instead of out in the city for the night. I’ll have to make it up to them in a big way when they’re in town next.

At a stoplight, I text Melissa to let her know our ETA and Courtney tries to call Ryan.

“Ryan just sent my call to voice mail!” Courtney says to me. “Can you believe that? He is definitely no longer my favorite.”

In the rearview mirror, I see Courtney’s parents exchange an amused glance, and

I laugh as she dials another one of her brothers, this time getting Kent on the phone. She chats with him for several minutes, mostly assuring him that she’s fine and is going to start eating like a normal person again.

We pull into the Montgomery’s neighborhood, following the road around to their house. I figured whoever’s car was driven down from Mizzou would be a dead giveaway, sitting parked on the street, but it seems that Melissa had them park in the garage.

That woman thinks of everything.

“Deeks is here?” Courtney asks.

“Looks like it,” I say, looking at his black Mercedes.

“Fun,” she says. “I’m glad you’re making such good friends with him and Jax.”

“Me, too. Ready to go in?”

“Yeah. Believe it or not, I’m hungry already.”

“That’s good,” Mr. Narducci, whom I’ll never be comfortable referring to as “Tony,” says.

I smile and say, “Well, you haven’t really let yourself eat in a while.”

“True,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I have some serious time to make up for. Especially in the dessert department.”

We all laugh at that, and then Linda says, “Well, let’s get to it.”

We walk to the front door and ring the bell. When Melissa opens the door, I expect to hear a “Surprise!” but there isn’t one.

Odd.

“Hey,” she says, giving Courtney a hug. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better. And I love that dress.”

Courtney smiles and as we follow Melissa inside, Courtney gives me a discreet high five for bringing her something dinner-party appropriate. I’m pretty impressed with myself, if I’m being honest.

“And it’s always good to see you, Adam,” Melissa says. “Everything is ready, if you will just follow me into the dining room.”

When we turn the corner from the kitchen to the dining room, Courtney gasps at the sight of her friends and family sitting at the table and covers her mouth with her hand.