“I’ll drive us,” Dante offers.
Poppy’s eyes meet mine and the pain cuts deep. “Do what you need to get ready. I’m walking her out,” I tell Dante.
The EMTs wheel her through the crowd, and she closes her eyes tight, more tears falling as her friends and Cirque family pat her stretcher.
Ryanne’s trembling hands clutch my shirt, and she leans into me on our way out.
They prepare to load her and I step in, cupping Poppy’s cheeks and bending to kiss her. “I love you. I’ll be there right behind you. You are not fucking alone in this. Do not let them do anything without me.”
“I’ll take care of that.” Ryanne climbs into the ambulance first.
“Poppy, say something.” I bend, taking her hand.
She hesitates and squeezes before replying, “My dance career with Cirque is over.”
More tears leak out and I’m stunned silent.
They load her, closing me out while my brain tries to catch up.
I watch helplessly as they drive away and wonder what the fuck is happening.
My phone buzzes continuously, and I drop my chin, blowing out a deep breath. My gut instincts told me something was wrong on that stage. It was confirmed the second her eyes met mine. When she went down, I was on my feet without a word to anyone.
The phone buzzes again.
Mom—We’re waiting in the spot. What’s going on?
Me—On my way.
I push all emotion to the side and head inside.
“I’ll be quick.” Dante hands me Poppy’s bag.
“Meet me in the side lobby. My family is waiting, and I need to give them an explanation.”
Mom and Maya are the first to get to me when I exit the side door.
“What happened?”
“Poppy landed wrong on her leg and tweaked her knee.” It’s the easiest answer that comes to mind.
“When?” Maya’s face pales.
“That last dance.”
“She didn’t mean to roll over? It looked like part of the show. She was perfect.”
“She was perfect. She’s trained on how to handle those situations as a professional so they don’t disrupt the performance.”
“God, she’s awesome.” The wonder on Maya’s face stirs the emotions weighing in my chest.
“Honey, where is she?” Mom’s voice is low and cautious.
“She’s on her way to get x-rays. It’s precautionary and recommended by the in-house staff.” The look on all the adult faces is skeptical, but Maya seems to buy it. “Dante and I are meeting her there.”
“Can I come?” Maya asks eagerly.
“No, honey. It’s late and not a good idea to pile into the hospital. Plus, she’ll probably be with the doctors, and we don’t want to be in the way.” Jill steps in, saving me from having to lie further.
“Hello, hello! Welcome to my show!” Dante’s loud and overly vibrant voice ricochets off the walls. Maya’s face lights up when she sees him.
“Dante!” She rushes to him like they’ve known each other forever.
“Maya, aren’t you a doll!” he gushes convincingly. He’s hurting and worried but pushing through.
“Son, what’s going on?” Dad mumbles low.
“You and Mom follow me to my room. I’ll tell you what I can, which isn’t much. But Dante and I need to go now. Can we move this along?”
“On it,” Mom goes to Dante with Jill and Linda.
Expertly, Mom gets all introductions done with the appropriate amount of raving before announcing it’s time to go.
Dante entertains Maya to their floor and hugs her extra tight before she leaves the elevator. When Jill, Warren, and Maya leave, his entire demeanor changes.
“Evin—”
“Let’s get to the room.”
The second we get into the hotel room, I explode to Dante. “What the hell happened?”
“In that last number, I felt it. She was off, and she’s never off. It all happened so fast, a pop and she was in the air, then another pop. No way she could come down with weight. I got to her as soon as I could.”
“What the fuck does ‘pop’ mean?”
His lips form a tight line, his eyes gloss over, and he swallows hard before answering. “It could mean anything, but in this case, it looks bad. I’m guessing from the way she reacted when pressure was applied, it’s a torn ligament in her knee.”
My vision goes spotty and I sink to the arm of the sofa, dropping her bag. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“Honey, people recover from knee injuries all the time. Let’s not jump to conclusions.” Mom’s optimism isn’t shared.
My gaze cuts to Dante. He’s thinking the same thing. “Mom, a knee injury for a dancer can be career-ending.”
She sucks in a deep breath, and Lynda puts an arm around her shoulders.
I haul myself up, haphazardly throwing a few things into Poppy’s bag. “Dad, take the keys to the rental. I’ll contact you when we know more.”
“Evin, we’ll follow you. All of us want to be there.”
I scan the troubled faces of Mom, Dad, Lynda, and Ray, knowing their hearts are in the right place, but I can’t deal with them.
“I’ll call. Right now, my first and only priority is getting to Poppy and making sure she’s okay.”
“She needs a mother right now!”
“She needs me right now!” I roar, unable to stop the rage.
Dad yanks me to his him. “Go, I’ll take care of this. Never in my life felt the way I did when Annie fell off that horse. Go be with your wife.” He shoves me toward the door.
Dante gives a quick wave and we’re out.
“Would you like coffee?” Ryanne whispers.
“Yeah, and a tea for Poppy when she wakes.”
“She still looks like my gypsy goddess, even in her drug-induced sleep.” Dante stares from the foot of the bed.
“She always looks like a goddess to me.” My lips trace over her forehead.
Ryanne squeezes my shoulder and they leave, giving me the first time alone with Poppy since last night. When we arrived, they had already taken her for an MRI. During his exam, the orthopedic specialist assessed surgery is needed. He just didn’t know exactly what he was working with.
Not being able to see her before they took her, coupled with not knowing this hospital and staff, drove me into a state of madness.
After two in the morning, they wheeled her into her room, dazed and confused. They had to give her anxiety medication for the MRI and then a high-dose pain pill afterward. I got her into the bed, and Dante shared the sofa with Ryanne.
None of us were leaving.
I dozed on and off but mostly watched Poppy sleep. Every time my eyes would close, the agonizing cry, the terror and torment written on her face, the hot tears on my skin rolled through my head. The only comfort was watching her sleep peacefully. I dread the moment she wakes and the reality of the situation hits her.
“Mr. Graham?”
An older man in a lab coat walks in carrying a clipboard and eyeing me over the rim of his glasses. Typical doctor cliché, but his greying hair and deep laugh lines reinforce his age. Which gives me hope for his experience. Then I catch the Chief of Orthopedic Surgery stitched on his coat and hope turns into alarm.
Poppy doesn’t stir as I get up and signal to him to give me a minute, excusing myself to the bathroom. The splash of cold water helps, but the lead in my stomach is a weight that doesn’t ease.
He’s at the end of Poppy’s bed, looking between her and his notes when I join him and follow to the hallway.
“Evin Graham.”
He takes my hand. “Dr. Rexwell, Chief of Orthopedic Surgery and Reconstruction.”
“Is it common for the Chief to take over a tendon tear?”
“Not normally, but my colleague last night contacted me immediately when the MRI results were available. This is much more than a tendon tear.”
My heart sinks and I force myself to remain still.
“What do you know?”
The elevators open, Dante and Ryanne coming straight to us.
“They’re family,” I explain.
“Well, let’s get to it. Like I mentioned, my colleague contacted me with the MRI results, and I’ve consulted with the Cirque doctor. These scans don’t pinpoint an origin of where this happened.” He pulls out the images and secures them on the screen in front of us. “This shows slight inflammation in her calf. This next shows her knee, which has significant damage with obvious tendon tear away.”
Phantom pains crawl down my leg.
“But down here,” he lasers in on her foot, “this indicates a ruptured Achilles.”
Dante sways and Ryanne goes white. Bile rises in my throat.
“Do we know what happened?” Dr. Rexwell glances around.
“I think Poppy will have to answer that. None of us could get anything out of her last night.”
“I’ll need to talk to her before consulting on surgery.”
“Are you doing the surgery?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Are you the best?”
“Considered top three in the country on sports injuries.”
“I’ll be checking that out.” I pin him, not backing down. “If it’s not to my liking, she gets the best.”
His lips curve, and he stares hard. “I’ve taken on bigger challenges, now’s the time to be frank.”
“That’s expected.”
“You need to know she may never dance again on a professional stage. The recuperation period is long and hard. Her body is strong, but she’s facing an uphill battle.”
A shriek comes from Poppy’s room, and I’m moving, Dante and Ryanne on my heels.
She’s sitting up, the sheet tossed to the side, staring at her leg. Her eyes are wide and panicked. “It wasn’t a nightmare?”
“Baby, you’re going to be fine. This is a top doctor in the country in injuries.” I slide in carefully beside her as Rexwell comes close and introduces himself.
He asks questions, and she fills in the blanks of her night and when the pain started.
“Anything happen to make your ankle vulnerable?” he asks, and her gaze darts to mine, filling with anguish.
It hits her at the same time a fiery rage explodes inside.
Fucking Tasha. Her trip was perfectly planned. Dante picks up on it, his fury fueling.
“Pips?” he grinds out.
“I tripped over a woman’s foot,” Poppy answers mournfully.
Dr. Rexwell nods, making notes and asking about the rest of the night.
“My educated guess is you tripped, aggravating your ankle, but no apparent discomfort. The internal irritation picked up while you danced. It began in the ankle, moved to the heel and Achilles. You kept going, and your muscles tried but couldn’t support it.”
Dante’s eyes meet mine, and he knows. Tasha triggered this. I kiss across her head to try to not give in to his fury.
Poppy quivers, remaining quiet, and clutching tight while Rexwell explains his plans for more tests before surgery.
“Mrs. Graham, I’m need you to stand and try to put weight on your right leg.”
She nods, and I swing off the bed, holding her waist to ease her up. She balances well at first, but the slightest pressure on her right sends her toppling into my side.
The Dr. crouches down, cupping her calf and easing her foot to the floor. “Let’s do toe, ball, heel. You should know that pretty well.” He grins up at her. “Don’t force it, but give me as much as you can and tell me the instant you feel pain. Not pressure, but pain.”
She does as he instructs and gets her heel to the floor, barely shifting her weight before she hisses. “There.”
“Do you feel this?” His fingers dig into her calf.
She nods.
“What about this?” He repeats the same with the sides and back of her knee.
“Yes.” The muscles in her forehead strain.
“Bear with me.” He releases her leg, pulling a marker out of his pocket and marking her skin.
“You done yet?” I grate out.
“You did great. Let’s get you back in bed.”
She leans in, relying on me to get her situated.
“We’re going to use those marks today for isolation points in our scans. I’ll put in the orders now, and a nurse will be in with the schedule. We’ll also get you something for the pain.”
“Ryanne, will you help me to the bathroom?” Poppy asks.
“I’ll do it.”
“Actually, I’d like to speak to you once more in the hallway.” The tone in his voice sends a chill down my spine.
“We got this, Evin,” Dante assures me.
I don’t have it in me to protest, so I head out of the room and back to where Poppy’s images are hanging.
He puts his paperwork down, takes off his glasses, and rubs his eyes before looking back at me. “Do you know if Miss Malone was planning to have children?”
My body jerks with the brunt of his question. “What the fuck? Is this surgery dangerous for her to have kids?”
“No, but Miss—”
“It’s Mrs. Graham. Poppy is my wife.”
“I apologize. Her insurance paperwork indicates she’s single. It listed you as an emergency contact.”
“I’ll get it handled, but what the hell does it have to do with her having children?”
“It’s standard to conduct a series of tests when admitted, especially when it’s a work-related injury.”
“If you’re looking for alcohol or drugs, it’s a waste of your time.”
“She was clean of any substance. However, there are other tests as well, one of them being a pregnancy test. Her initial labs showed escalated levels of the HCG hormone in her blood.”
The news hits me full force and I stumble back, my heart hammering. “She’s pregnant?”
His expression remains indifferent, but the flicker in his eye is my answer. “She may have been. The baseline levels were compatible with early stages. Depending on her cycle, she would have most likely realized a late period soon if the pregnancy was viable. Unfortunately, we will never know. The labs from this morning show a decline in HCG levels.”
“Fuck me.”
“I’m sorry we can’t be more specific. The levels alerted us, but the premature timing doesn’t allow for us to make that call one-hundred percent.”
“The fall made her body reject the pregnancy?”
“It could be the fall, or it could be Mother Nature. We will never know.”
“I don’t want her to know.”
He quirks his eyebrows. “No?”
“Not yet. Especially since it’s hypothetical. Her mind needs to be focused on the surgery. She has enough devastation to deal with. When I think the time is right, I’ll break the news.”
Which may be never. I refrain from saying out loud.
“Poppy is my patient, and under obligation, I must be upfront about her medical status.”
“I get that,” my voice vibrates with rising anger. “You also have an obligation to her mental status, and right now, she’s barely hanging on. She’s not stupid. She’s in that room dealing with a broken heart and the fact that her career as a dancer is over. We weren’t trying, but that doesn’t mean losing a baby she didn’t know about won’t shatter her.”
He studies me, showing no sign of sympathy, but gives a curt nod.
“Appreciate it. Now, give me a rundown of what we’re looking at.”
“I won’t have a plan to proceed until after today’s tests. I can tell you it will be an intensive surgery.”
“And after the surgery?”
“Extensive rehabilitation. Her crutches should be here soon. Encourage her to use them today. She needs to get used to getting around without mobility in that leg.”
“Not a problem.”
“She’ll be here at least four days after the surgery. I’d recommend getting your house wheelchair-accessible a
nd opening up any small spaces. Hopefully, she will be out of here solely on crutches, but it’s best to be prepared.”
“Got it.” My first thought is to take her to Charleston, but it’s too early to talk about moving her.
“Mr. Graham, this is one of the most important things I can stress. You need to help her prepare for what comes after the surgery. It will not be an easy recovery. From what you said earlier, you both understand the chances of her dancing professionally again are grim. My team is the best, and I have faith Poppy will regain full mobility of her leg and resume a normal life. I’m a doctor, not a psychic; I can’t promise you a miracle.”
“You tell me you’re the best, there’s only one way to convince me.”
He grins, collecting the x-rays and folder. “Then I’d better get to work.”
I stare at his back, trying to make sense of what the hell is happening.
Get your shit together, man. You don’t buckle under pressure.
The fog clears and a plan forms.
First things first, get in that room and take care of Poppy.
Chapter 24
Poppy
As hard as I try to fight it, my head is too heavy and it falls to the side. Maya giggles softly, readjusting the phone screen and leaning into me.
“It isn’t fair that even drugged and in a hospital gown with a banged-up knee, you are still stunningly gorgeous.” Darby sighs dramatically.
“It’s the hair. I had it done Wednesday. Everyone loves colored hair. It’s ripe.”
“Ripe? Did you say ripe?”
“Oh, yeahs… All the boys thinks it’s sexy hot. Ask my personal nurzzze. He can’t keep his hands off me.”
Maya’s body vibrates harder and laughs echo around.
“It’s fresh.”
“What’s fresh?”
“My dippity-doo.”
“Fresh makes more sense.”
“Don’t judge me, Darby Graham. This shit is strong,” I slur, my eyes drooping.
“I’m letting that slide because you’re blitzed, but her name is Darby Kendrick.” Pierce’s face pops on the screen.
“Zip-it, Piercy-Wiercy. I have my own badass to control and he’s boozzyyy.”
“Was that bossy or boozy?” Dante teases.
Evin's Fight (Southern Charmers Book 3) Page 24