Once she is finished, she pushes the computer back and heads for the door. She turns back before exiting and says, “I almost forgot, you have a visitor here to see you. He said his name was Colton Donavon. Can I send him in?”
I cringe in my bed. “On a scale of one to ten, how pissed off did he look?”
The nurse contemplates my question for a moment before responding. “I would say you are looking at about an eight, but he has had time to cool off since he arrived.”
“That’s not a big vote of confidence, but you can send him in whenever,” I mumble the latter before leaning my head back and closing my eyes.
I let my mind wander, thinking about all the things I could have done differently tonight. If I would have just waited for the Uber ride or not drank so much, maybe things would be different.
“Tyler, what the hell were you thinking, man?” My eyes fly open. Standing before me is Colton, owner and CEO of CD Enterprises, and my boss. His translucent green eyes burn bright with rage.
“I wasn’t. That seems to be my motto lately,” I grumble, having no idea what he wants to hear from me. I fucked up and we both know it. I just want to make sure that couple is alright. “Are they okay?”
Colton sighs before taking a seat at the end of my bed. He places a gentle hand on my leg, but I wince in pain. “Sorry, man.” He inhales a deep breath before letting it out. “They are both fine. You’re damn lucky no one was hurt, just some minor cuts and bruises. The driver only sustained a broken wrist.” Colton motions toward my leg. “Not that you seem to be in any better shape.”
My vision mists as tears collect in my eyes. “I was afraid I had permanently injured one of them, or even worse, killed them.” My voice cracks as I try to control the torrent of emotions threatening to take over.
“But you didn’t.” Colton pushes off the bed and begins pacing. Pacing from Colton is never a good thing.
“What happens now?” I question, unable to bear the silence any longer.
“Now you have a choice to make, my friend. You have been going downhill for months now. I should have noticed sooner.”
“None of this is your fault.”
“I know this is all on you. However, I can make sure you get the help you need.” Colton stops pacing and pins me in place with his stare. “Your choices are either you go to rehab and get your life back on track, or you go to jail.”
I pause and wait for him to elaborate further, but he says nothing.
“Obviously, I would rather not go to jail.”
“Okay, I’ll take care of things. You just hope and pray your leg doesn’t require surgery to be fixed.” Colton turns and heads out the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Over the next few hours, I’m wheeled off to radiology. After too much talking, I get my leg in a cast. Thank heavens I didn’t need surgery. I have a displaced fracture in the tibia, a fancy way of saying shinbone.
I’m finally back in my room with a bright red cast covering the bottom part of my leg, but still no painkillers. Apparently, the Assistant District Attorney is coming to visit me soon. They don’t want my judgement clouded by having drugs in my system. I don’t know how being in severe amounts of pain after they snapped my bone back into place wouldn’t cloud my judgement, but rules are rules.
There’s a soft knock on the door and I shift my attention to the people filtering into my room. The first two men are wearing suits with crisp white shirts, obviously lawyers given my current situation. Both men are followed closely by my doctor and Colton.
Colton heads directly to my side, beginning the introductions. “This is the Assistant District Attorney. He will read you the terms he and your lawyer came up with. If you are in agreement, sign it and everything will be taken care of.”
“You must be my lawyer?” I question the second suit. He nods his head before placing a manilla folder on my lap.
“Look at the documents inside and let me know if you have any issues with what we have discussed.”
I open the folder and find a stack of papers. My name is in bold print at the top of the page. I take a deep breath before reading through all the pages, getting my attorney’s attention when I have questions.
“Four years?” I say aloud to no one in particular. “What am I going to do for the next four years? I’m not that screwed up that I need to be in rehab for that long.”
Colton places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “They only require you to be there for six months. How much longer you have to stay there depends on you.”
The Assistant DA steps closer to my bed before speaking. “What Mr. Donavan stated is correct. You will be sent to court-mandated drug and alcohol rehabilitation at Monarch Shores Facility in San Juan Capistrano. You will be remanded there for a minimum of six months. Law requires you to complete the training and submit to random drug and alcohol testing for the next four years.”
“I understand all of that, but why can’t I return to the team for four years?” I look at Colton, hoping he can do something about this minor requirement.
“Because I want you to get your life together and worrying about what is going on with the team won’t help. I have other people to help run my racing career. Right now I want you to take care of yourself.”
I sigh, thinking over all my options. Court-ordered rehab and community service are not too bad of a deal when you almost kill two people.
“I just want to make sure I understand. I have to report to
