under her breath. “So I guess this means I’m out of the trials.”
He nodded his head. “Yeah, but we are going to get you back in fighting shape in no time. I’ve already started making some calls.”
“Calls? What kind of calls?”
“To rehab centers in New York.”
“What? I don’t want to go to New York.”
“They have the best rehabilitation centers in the country, Kelly. And you are going to have the best. You definitely can’t stay in Atlanta. The press wouldn’t let you breathe and you know it. It’s the only way to keep the wolves at bay.”
She started to protest but knew David was right. When she’d been injured six months earlier the press had been so persistent that they actually camped out on her doorstep all night long hoping to get a glimpse of her. They even posed as hospital workers just to get some shots of her. She felt a little shiver at the memory.
David patted her shoulder. “It’s going to be all right. I’m with you all the way.”
She looked up at him and his smile was full of reassurance. David had been in her corner for as long as she could remember. He was her friend, her mentor, her coach and pretty much the only person she could call family. She relied on him for everything. He believed in her when she didn’t believe in herself and the critics tried to downplay her abilities, or cook up one scandal after another about her. He was the one who faced the press when she was too emotionally drained to do so herself. He knew how to get the very best out of her, make her drag things out of herself that she didn’t think she was capable of. He’d made her a champion. She owed him. And he knew it.
“I trust you, David. If you think it’s best.”
He stroked her cheek. “Yeah, I do.”
“Does the press know?”
“I’ll take care of the press. Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.”
“But what about the team? I…”
“Listen, they all know you’re the best and they want the best for you. Everyone has been hanging around waiting for you to wake up so that they can tell you how much you mean to the team.” He cocked his head over his shoulder. “They’re out in the waiting room.”
She wiped her eyes. “I must look a mess.”
“Not at all,” he said softly.
“Tell me anything.” She tried to brush back her hair, which she usually wore in a ponytail. Her hair was her one attribute that made everyone take a second look. It was just beyond her shoulders, rich, black and smooth as satin. She owed it all to her great-grandmother who was a full-blooded Cherokee Indian. The American-Indian genes seemed to miss everyone else in her family but settled solidly in every fiber of Kelly’s being, from the high cheeks and dark piercing eyes to an incredible love for the outdoors and nature. But it hadn’t always been that way. She inhaled deeply and pushed the images away.
“Should I let them in?”
Kelly nodded slowly. “Is Stephanie out there?”
“Yes.”
Kelly rolled her eyes. “She must be feeling pretty good. This couldn’t have worked out better for her if she’d planned it herself.”
“K, now is not the time to worry about Stephanie. She’ll always be number two. You know it, the team knows it and so do sports fans.”
She looked away.
“I’m gonna let them come in for a few minutes and then you get some rest.”
Slowly she nodded her head.
Kelly stared up at the off-white ceiling, contemplating her future. The sound of well wishes from her teammates still rang in her ears. She glanced down at her leg and her stomach muscles tensed. Would she ever be able to run again? Was her career, her life over?
She should have listened to her grandmother years ago when she told her that she needed more than “good hair” and speed to get through life. The only profession she’d ever had was that of an athlete. She’d never worked a real job and had no marketable skills. Sure she had a degree in Liberal Arts and that was about as valuable as a three-dollar bill. The only way she’d made it through high school and then college was because she could run. What would she do if she couldn’t run ever again? The question plagued her throughout the night as her dreams were filled with dismal visions of her watching from the sidelines as life sped past her and when her name was mentioned in sports circles, no one could remember who she was, and she reverted back to the girl who no one hated more than she did.
Chapter 3
“How are you feeling this morning, Kelly?” Dr. Graham asked as he checked the angle of her leg in traction.
“I’ve felt better, I suppose.” She tried to adjust her body in the bed to get more comfortable.
“Let me help you.” He came to the top of the bed and adjusted the pillows behind her then pressed the remote to raise the bed.
“Thanks.” She looked up at him. “How bad is it really?”
Dr. Graham exhaled a long breath before pulling up a chair next to the bed. “I’m going to be honest with you, Kelly. Brutally so.”
She tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth.
“You have sustained what could be a permanent debilitating injury—for an athlete. The damage that has been done to that ankle will take months to recover from and that’s not taking rehab into account. And even with the best trainers, I don’t believe you will ever be able to run the way you once did.”
Her chest constricted. “You’re…saying my career is over?”
“Miracles happen every day, Kelly. You’re a tough young woman and other than a bad ankle you are in good physical condition. Much recovery from any injury, other than the physical, is the mental and emotional. How far you come from this will rely very heavily on you and genetics.”
She swallowed over the lump in her throat and slowly nodded her head. “Thank you,” she murmured.
“I understand you’ll be going to New York for your rehab.”
“Yes, David is working that all out.”
His cheeks flushed crimson.
Kelly craned her neck forward. “What are you not telling me?”
Dr. Graham looked away then directly into Kelly’s eyes, his thick white brows almost forming a single line. “I spoke to David months ago, the last time you were hurt.”
Intently looking at him she nodded her head.
“I told him then that you should not get back on the track, that he was sending you out too quickly. Your ankle was still weak. What happened yesterday was unfortunate but inevitable. My concern is the fragility of your bones.
