Broken Lion (4 page)

“Sorry about Candy.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

He smiled. “Candy. She doesn’t have the best… what’s the word… you know… manners.”

“Oh. Okay.” I wanted to laugh. Manners? Coming from him that was laughable. It didn’t matter. “Anyway. About your knee.”

“What’d you find out from the MRI?” His eyes shone with hope. He wasn’t making this easy.

“Why don’t we take a look on the monitor?” I wheeled the computer from the corner over to his bed and logged in so I could pull up the MRI images. “Do you see here, where the head of the femur attaches to the tibia?”

“Yeah?”

“Your ACL is completely torn. Do you know what the ACL is?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s no longer attached to the tibia.”

“Anything else?”

I couldn’t tell if he was playing it cool or in shock or what. “The meniscus on your tibia is also torn and will need to be repaired. There is some cartilage damage as well. All of it will likely need to be addressed through surgery.”

“Surgery?” He said it as if he didn’t believe me. Denial was a common reaction, especially from a highly competitive athlete. It was the last thing they wanted to hear. Their identity often revolved around their ability to compete at the highest levels. Take that away from them and they lost their sense of self. Some athletes managed to transition to coaching or sports journalism or even sports medicine. As long as they worked with athletes, they were happy. But others fell into depression and never managed to recover. It was too soon to tell which of the paths Lion might take.

“Yes. I’m afraid you’ll probably need reconstructive surgery.”

“I don’t need surgery.”

“Actually, you’re correct. You don’t. But that would mean adjusting your lifestyle to fit within the limits of your compromised knee joint. If you want to continue to compete at the level you’re used to, you will definitely need surgery.”

He dropped his head back on the pillow and heaved a sigh. All his cockiness was gone. And there was no sign of his adorable grin. He looked thoughtful and a little bit sad. “What are my options? I mean, for surgery?”

“Since Dr. Hackett will be performing your surgery, he’ll have to discuss that with you after reviewing your MRIs.” It didn’t bother me that I would no longer be Lion’s doctor. Under the circumstances, I cared far more about his well being than my bruised ego, and I knew he would be in capable hands with Dr. Hackett. “He’ll probably suggest a tendon graft of some sort, but I couldn’t say which.”

A smile played across Lion’s face. “You still using zombie grafts?”

“You mean an allograft, like the kind we take from a cadaver?”

“Yeah.”

“Not as much as in the past. The current research shows that harvesting the tendon from your body is more effective long term. So Dr. Hackett most likely won’t use a zombie graft. Unless you demand one.” I smiled, trying to make light of the situation. “But I would strongly advise against it. My understanding is that you might suddenly develop a taste for brains.” I winked. “Human brains.”

He chuckled. His adorable smile was back. It was good to see.

“You might consider an animal graft.” It wasn’t a serious suggestion, but I wanted to keep him smiling.

“Do they do that?”

“Believe it or not, researchers experimented with animal tendon grafts in the 80s and 90s.”

“No shit?”

“None whatsoever.”

“How about a grizzly bear graft? They’re badass. Can we do that?”

“If you can find a donor. Know any bears?”

He laughed. “No. Not personally. But I know a lion who would be happy to loan me some of his.” It was his turn to wink.

“I bet you do.” I was smiling and dangerously close to flirting again.

“Joking aside, what kind of graft will you use?”

“Either a tendon graft, which Dr. Hackett will take from your hamstring, or a bone and tendon graft which he’ll take from your kneecap. Both are viable options with a high recovery rate and return to sport. I’ve done procedures on several athletes who tell me they regained 99.9% functionality.”

“Won’t taking the graft from my knee weaken it?”

“You would be surprised by how well the patellar tendon attached to your kneecap can regenerate, as well as the surrounding bone.”

“Wow. That’s incredible. It sounds like I’ll be able to go back in the cage as soon as I’m healed.”

Sex cage…
“I can’t make any promises, but it is a possibility. Although you should know that the recovery protocol calls for six to twelve months of rehab.”

“No worries.” He nodded and his cocky smile returned. “So this is good news.”

“I suppose it is.” I was impressed by his optimism. Unless it was just denial. It was too soon to tell how he would react when the reality of rehabilitation set in. I wouldn’t be treating him, so I would probably never know. But I would be wondering.

“What do we do now?”

“After your discharge papers are processed, you can go home.”

“What about my surgery?”

“That won’t happen for several weeks. Until then, the goal will be to follow the PRICE protocol.”

“What’s that?”

“Protection, Rest, Ice, Compression, and Elevation. In other words, be careful with your movement. Take it easy, keep things light and don’t over do it. And keep it iced, no more than twenty minutes at a time. You don’t want to give yourself frostbite. I’ll prescribe painkillers and an anti-inflammatory, and crutches. You’ll need them for walking. I’ll also prescribe a knee-brace, just in case. Once the swelling and pain have minimized, you’ll want to work on getting back as much range of motion into your knee as possible while keeping the muscles strong and flexible. The healthier your knee is going into surgery, the easier the recovery. I’ll schedule you for some prehabilitation physical therapy between now and the surgery, and I’ll have the nurse give you some pamphlets which will tell you how to care for your knee and follow the PRICE therapy at home. Make sure you read the pamphlets carefully. Oh, and the nurse will also schedule a consult for you with Dr. Hackett.”

“Are you gonna be my physical therapist?”

“No. I’m not a physical therapist. I’m an MD.”

“Too bad. You would’ve enjoyed it.”

I wanted to laugh, but restrained myself. “I think you meant the other way around.”

“Are you kidding? You know you want to run your hands all over me. You just need official permission. Too bad you’re not a physical therapist.”

I hated that he was right. But rules were rules. “I’m afraid someone else will have that privilege. Well, I think that pretty much covers everything. Unless you have any questions?”

“When do I see you again?”

“Honestly? You probably won’t. Your physical therapist and Dr. Hackett will take things from here. I’m not your doctor anymore, remember?”

“That’s right. Since you’re not, you gotta tell me your first name.”

I rolled my eyes. What could it hurt? “Brigid. My name’s Brigid.” He held out his hand to shake. Being polite, I shook. I wasn’t prepared for the warmth or the size of his hand. It engulfed mine like a human cocoon. Something about it was entirely too comforting.

“Brigid.”
That voice
.

Ooze
.

The heat from his hand was rapidly melting my defenses.

“It suits you.”

“What suits me?” I was on the verge of losing all self control.

“Your name. Brigid. It’s strong. Unique. Exotic. Just like you.”

For a boxing ring bruiser like him, he sure was articulate. I knew I was blushing and about a second away from letting him do anything he wanted with me.

“Now that you’re not my doctor, it means you and me can go out on a regular date. How about dinner?”

Reality smacked me in the chest. I reluctantly withdrew my hand from his and shoved it in my lab coat. I cleared my throat.

“You’re blushing, Brigid.” His eyes darkened and the look of danger returned.

“It’s hot in here.” I felt the urge to fan my face but I stuffed my free hand in my lab coat pocket instead.

“I was thinking the same thing…”

Ooze.

Damn him.

“Unfortunately, Lion, I mean, Mr. Maxwell, you’re still my patient.”

One of his dimples appeared. Damn that dimple. It begged to be licked.

Why had I said his name? I cleared my throat again. “As I said, once a patient, always a patient. You should be focused on your knee right now. I can’t stress enough how challenging the recovery process can be. So don’t get any ideas.”

“I’ve got all kinds of ideas, Brigid. But something tells me my imagination is nothing compared to the reality…”

Why was it that he could simply lay there and be excruciatingly hot? He didn’t even have to do anything. If Lion Maxwell had a sexy calendar of his own, the cover would be a picture of him as he looked right now. This image would also be inside as my birthday month:
Sexy as hell September.

“It was nice meeting you, Mr. Maxwell. Good luck with your knee.”

I spun on my heel and rushed out of the exam room before I did something stupid.

“Be seeing you, Brigid.”

When I pushed past Lion’s entourage outside, I walked as fast as I could to the nearest exit.

I needed fresh air or I was going to burst into flames inside my lab coat.

<<<<<<<>>>>>>>

The full moon hung low over the hospital.

I stood in front of the main doors of the ECU, staring at the night sky, trying to calm down. Several people stood outside with me, also star gazing. Some of them smoked cigarettes, the tips glowing orange like sluggish fireflies. Smoking wasn’t permitted this close to the entrance, but I wasn’t going to lecture anybody. They were here because their loved ones were hurt or sick or dying. I didn’t want to make things any worse for them than they already were. Sometimes, rules could be bent. For the right reasons.

“You.”

Startled, I turned to the sound of the voice.

The woman who’d said it stood in the shadows.

“Were you talking to me?” I couldn’t make out her face.

“Yeah.” She sounded pissed and projected her irritation in jittery waves I could feel. My defenses immediately went up.

“Can I help you with something?”

“Yeah you can fucking help me.” She strutted toward me, her heels sparking off the brick pavers. Her silhouette was tall and curvy and everything was tight-fitting. When she emerged into the light, I recognized her from inside. Candy the bedazzled groupie with the big mane of hair. “You think he’ll pick you over me because you’re some kind of princess doctor?”

I wasn’t about to explain that nobody handed me anything. Paying for college and medical school was all on me and I had the loans to prove it. But that wasn’t her business. “Are you talking about Mr. Maxwell?”

“Who else?” she said bitterly.

“I don’t want him to pick me. You can have him.”

“What, now you’re too good for him?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying either. It’s Candy, right?”

“Now you making fun of my name, Bitch? Don’t think I won’t kick your skank ass because you’re a doctor.”

Was she for real? Was she the kind of woman Lion surrounded himself with? I didn’t see how he could think I was his type. “No, I’m not making fun of your name. I was just making sure I remembered it correctly. Your name is Candy, right?”

“Yeah. So?” She searched my eyes, looking for the hidden insult that wasn’t there. So defensive, like everyone was out to get her. In her world, maybe they were. It was sad.

“I should tell you….” I stopped to think of how to phrase it so I didn’t offend her. “Doctors aren’t allowed to date their patients. It’s against the law.”

“Serious?”

“Yes. Even if I were interested in Mr. Maxwell, which I’m not, I couldn’t date him.”

“Oh. Want a cigarette?” She pulled a pack and a lighter out of her purse. Did she actually want to be friends now that I was no longer competition?

“Sorry. I don’t smoke. But thank you.”

She shrugged and lit one for herself. “No matter what I do, Lion won’t fuck me.”

This was news. Now I was interested in talking to her. “Really?”

“Yeah. He doesn’t know what he’s missing. I suck good dick. Know what I’m saying?”

“Oh. Yes. Of course.”

“Make a man come so hard he turns himself inside out. You ever suck dick like that?”

“Um…”

“Nah.” She waved her cigarette in the air, leaving a curling trail of smoke. “You’re too uptight for that kind of thing. Am I right? Probably don’t even like the taste of dick.”

“Actually, I happen to like the taste of dick just fine.”

She snorted. “You sure?”

“Yes I’m sure.”

“You swallow?”

I wasn’t exactly enjoying this conversation, but I wouldn’t let her one up me. “Yes, I swallow.”

She smirked at me but I was gaining her respect. “When was the last time you sucked a dick? I mean like really sucked it?”

Her crassness was a bit much, but I was perfectly willing to have the discussion if she cleaned up her language. I wasn’t holding my breath. “It’s been a while. But I did it frequently when I was married.”

“You divorced?”

“Sadly, yes.”

“Uh huh,” she nodded. Somehow, that earned points with her. “He cheat on you? They always cheat. Men are dogs.”

“Nope. He didn’t cheat.”

“That you know of.” She said it with such certainty, I had to stop and think about it.

“No, I don’t think he did.”

She smiled big. “You cheated on him, didn’t you? That’s my girl!”

“No. I never had time to cheat. That’s why he left me. I never had time for him.”

“Shoulda sucked his dick more. He woulda stayed.”

I tried not to laugh. “You might be right.”

“Damn right I’m right. Men don’t need much to keep them happy. A good blowjob every week will save any marriage.” She had a point, but it was too late to help mine.

“So why are you having trouble with Lion? You’re a beautiful woman with plenty of confidence.” I had to admit, despite her sandpaper personality, there was a certain animalistic beauty to Candy that made her the perfect woman for a man like Lion Maxwell. All she needed to do was change her name to Lioness. Or Jaguar. Anything except Candy. But she was definitely his type of woman. More so than I would ever be. “So what’s the issue?”