Allyson Reed finally has the life she wants in Massachusetts, but whenever Daxson Winters, the newest NFL superstar and love of her life suffers a gruesome injury, a dark piece of their past resurfaces threatening to destroy everything they've built...
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Daxson
"Can you hurry the fuck up and tell me what's wrong, Doc?" My words came out a little sharper than expected, but given the situation, I hoped that Dr. Freeman would understand.
My hands instinctively tightened around the cold metal bars on the side of the table as Dr. Freeman adjusted a black brace around my knee. Damn, this man sure was taking his time. His warm hands continued to poke and prod while my face contorted in pain.
It was a sharp ache that started in my knee, radiating up my hamstring and down my calf simultaneously. The feeling never waned or disappeared, but was constant and consuming. The simple fact I could feel the pain made me uncomfortable because people always gave me credit for having a high pain tolerance.
My momma was the first to find out how much pain I could take. Still to this day, she says I scared her half to death. Demarcus and I were riding four wheelers in the field out behind our house. It seemed harmless enough, but we were young boys—stupid, confident, reckless. It didn't take my brother long to come up with something dangerous to do. He wanted to pretend we were in a high speed chase, so his stupid ass drove the four-wheeler underneath the carport at full speed. Of course, I didn't duck fast enough and the bottom piece of metal sliced down the top of my head. I was bleeding, but I wasn't in pain. I thought it was just a cut and wanted to get a bandaid, but once my mother realized what happened, we were in the car headed to the emergency room. Needless to say, I ended up with a bunch of stitches that day.
But this injury felt different than any previous ones. During the initial impact on the field, I'd completely lost consciousness. I didn't know what was going on until they had me on the cart headed back to the locker room.
Despite that fact, in my mind, this was nothing. Maybe a pulled hamstring, or just a dislocated knee. A couple assistant coaches who helped me off the field still lingered in the locker room with curious eyes. I'm sure, just like me, they were waiting for any news on my condition. It made me wonder what the fans were thinking. They just watched one of their star players go down. I mean, football injuries happen all the time, but I don't think anyone expected this to happen to me.
It wasn't in my future.
Dr. Freeman rose to his feet and stepped away from the table. There was a dark look in his eyes that allowed an uneasy feeling to settle in my stomach. He looked like he was about to give me some bad news—hands behind his back and a blank expression plastered across his wrinkled face.
"Well, Daxson. I'm sorry to tell you, but it looks like you've suffered a triple ligament tear in your right knee."
I tilted my head when he shuffled through one of his bags. If Allyson was here, she'd be able to help me understand the medical jargon.
"So, what's that mean? Some PT, a few weeks of rest, and I'm good to go?"
"It's a little more complicated than that." Dr. Freeman sighed as he dumped a few pills into his hand. "Basically, the weight of the players who tackled you combined with the impact of you returning to the ground has twisted your knee and torn three of your tendons. These tendons are important because they provide stability to the knee and hold the muscle to the bone. I've fitted you with a brace to hold everything in place until we can get you to the hospital for an MRI and hopefully immediate surgery."
