Russ watched his brother lift the bottle again. "Tell me what they said, how bad is the injury? I only know what they said on the sports news."
"I have no fucking idea, alright? They might tell me tomorrow when I go to Sydney, they might not. A law unto themselves, frigging doctors."
"Did you want someone to go with you?"
"I don't need anyone holding my hand. Now fuck off and leave me alone. I can handle my own life."
Russ walked away, sad to see what had become of his brother. Heaven forbid they should give him bad news tomorrow. If what Lizzie said was true, they could all be in for a rough ride with Cade and his foul mood swings.
Chapter 18
"Come in, Cade." The specialist held the door open and Cade hobbled in. "Take a seat on the bed please and put your leg up for me." He shut the door and walked over to his desk, opening the file on his laptop. "Hmmm, I have some scans here but they don't show too much improvement."
"It feels much better, doc." Cade turned on his charm and smiled.
"We’ll see. Right, let me get this brace off and we can go through a few exercises to see how much better you really are." The doctor undid the brace and dropped it to the floor.
He lifted and bent the leg, twisted it and prodded while he frowned and muttered to himself. When he released the leg, Cade breathed a sigh of relief.
"Hurts, doesn't it? No point trying to pull one over me, you know. I'm not sending you back onto the field until I'm a hundred percent convinced you’re okay."
"Can't you just operate like you did last time and get me back in the game?"
"I don't think so. You have done your medial collateral ligament this time. Not torn but pretty close to it. Surgery will achieve nothing and we've already talked about this."
"Doc, I have to play again. This could be the end of my career." He shuddered as the cold chill settled down his spine. "I'm not ready to give it up yet."
"I understand that, but you have to look at things from my point of view. If I send you out again before that leg heals and you take another hit, you will be out for good. There will be no coming back. As it is, I don't really like your chances, Cade." The doctor washed his hands and walked back to his desk. "It's only been a few weeks but I would think we’d see more of an improvement by now." He looked up. "Have you been doing what I instructed, keeping it up and iced? Using your crutches at all times?"
Cade grunted in reply.
"I want you to rest it totally and see how we go. If there is no improvement the next time you see me, we can talk about our options then."
Disappointment simmered in Cade’s stomach. He managed to keep it down while the doctor strapped the cast back on and wrote him up a prescription for an anti-inflammatory to help with the swelling.
"Come back in two weeks and if things haven't improved, I'll have to contact your coach."
Cade hobbled out of the doctor's office, the frustration eating at his stomach. By the time he made it down to the car park and was sitting inside his car, he was at boiling point.
He slammed his hands on the steering wheel and yelled out his denial. Tears of disappointment and anger ran down his cheeks unheeded. One fucking hit. That was enough to ruin my career. I have at least three more years in me, I know I do. Damned specialists, they know nothing, nothing!
He opened the glove box and took out the small bottle of whiskey he kept stashed away for an emergency. Unscrewing the top, he tipped the golden liquid down his throat, the burn of the alcohol giving his churning stomach a numbness to match his brain.
When the bottle was empty, he threw it on the floor before starting the engine and peeling out onto the busy main road. Ignoring usual driver courtesy, he dove in and out of the lines of traffic along the city streets. Mindless of where he was going, Cade drove on auto pilot until he found himself at his home-ground rugby club.
He parked his car and got out, gazing around. Today the place looked deserted with just a couple of cars parked near the main entrance. With his crutches under his arms, he hobbled over and worked his way inside to the dressing rooms. The lights were out and the place was deathly quiet.
Feeling the need to get out on the turf once more, Cade headed down the tunnel toward the stream of bright sunshine. The last time he was here was when they’d driven him out on a stretcher. The drone of the caretaker’s lawnmower reached his ears and he looked around. To not be able to come out on this field in his home colours would be the worst thing he could possibly imagine.
"Cade, thought you might come over." The head coach slapped him on the back and came around to stand beside him. "Doc just called me. Not looking too good, mate."
"Quick, wasn't he? Don't worry about it just yet, Tommo. I've come back before and I'll come back again. Just you wait and see." He flexed his leg out in front of him as though it would make a difference.
"You have to remember you are older now than you were the last time you took a knock like that." Tommo shook his head. "Cade, I love you man, really I do. You are one of my best players but your body won't heal as good as it did when you were a kid. I want you to be prepared for the fact that this might be it for you, as much as I hate to say it."
"Rot! Doc has given
