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In recovery, he was given the news that the tendon connecting his thigh and his knee had been snapped. “We’ve repaired the damage as much as we can but it’ll be rehab where the real work is done, Mr. Mitchell.”
“How long?” He asked and felt the weight of his words. “Before I can put weight on it? Before I can walk like a regular person.”
“Optimistically, with the shape you’re in, I’d say you’ll be walking under your own power in eight weeks.”
That’s what he said but Bret saw the doubt on the man’s face. He thought Bret might never walk the same again. Maybe he’d never hike to the top of a cliff or skip across the stones of a river again. Bret could barely handle that kind of loss. His life fundamentally had changed in a few moments, all because he wanted to save a girl. All because she had wandered too far from camp to relieve herself.
Maybe it was more his fault than hers. He should’ve warned her before falling asleep.
“Once your surgical wounds heal, we’ll arrange for your transport to the rehab place of your choice. I’m going to assume the local rehab facility won’t suffice.”
“I can afford to pay for the best, so why settle for less?” Bret said with a smirk but inside he felt like he was falling into a hole. There went not only his book tour but his corporation. He had diversified, of course, he’d be okay financially.
But being outside was something he did to keep himself sane. And now he was going to be expected to live in a rehabilitation center for two months? Bret could feel himself going mad just thinking about it.
“The woman that brought you in has been waiting to see you. If you’d like to see her, we can have her sent in once you’re transferred to your final room.”
“No,” Bret said sharply but he cleared his throat and hid his surges of anger. “No. She’s done enough. Tell her to go. Rest. I’ll see her another time.”
“Very well. I know the uphill battle you’re looking at. Friends can make the journey a little easier.”
Bret nodded. “Noted.” He laid his head back down and closed his eyes. He was done talking. He didn’t want to see or talk to anyone. Least of all Stephanie. When the door latched shut, Bret opened his eyes again and stared ahead at the wall. He’d have to get used to this, wouldn’t he?
This might be the life he had to get accustomed to. And he was sure, it was no life at all.
******
He was transferred to a private corner room with big windows and a lot of natural light. It didn’t change the fact Bret was in a hospital room, but it made pretending easier. Two days of doing nothing but resting and eating meals brought to him, he finally started to pull himself out of the fog.
Bret wasn’t ready to deal with the press but he managed a phone call with his PR rep to let her know the tour was effectively canceled. Bret heard the disappointment in her voice and it wasn’t because of his health. All her dollar signs had effectively dried up.
“Well, take care of yourself. I’m sure we’ll talk about it once you’re feeling up to it. Then we can schedule a come back tour. It’ll be bigger and better than ever. Okay?”
Bret hung up the phone rather than discuss his feelings or health any further with her. The accident was his fault. He should’ve known better than to engage a wild animal but he did because Stephanie was in danger. Now, every mistake he made would end up on her segment. Everyone would know how badly he screwed up. And Stephanie’s career would sail to the top.
A knock at the door pulled his attention and it was pulled open by none other than Christopher Sinclair. He stepped inside with a weary smile in a relaxed pair of jeans and a yellow polo shirt. “Hey pal. You up for visitors?”
Bret found himself nodding despite himself. It was nice to see a smiling face again. “Sure, come on in.”
Christopher let the door handle go and the door wafted shut. “I would’ve brought flowers or balloons if I knew what your favorite color was,” he joked but then his expression turned serious. “I’m glad you’re all right. I’m glad that woman you were with was able to think fast on her feet.”
Bret shook his offered hand. “It’ll be all about her tale of survival now. I’m just sailing off into the sunset.”
“It can’t be that bad,” Christopher said and dragged a chair over.
“Few months of rehab at least. Who knows if I’ll ever walk normal again? It’ll take time to build the strength back up. My career is done. For now. But the gimp kid comeback tour might be scheduled for next year.” Bret sounded bitter but he felt even worse. He was nothing more than a pity party for one and he didn’t care enough to stop yet. Maybe he wouldn’t ever.
“They didn’t say that to you.”
“Might as well. It’s in everything they don’t say. You know?”
Christopher nodded and folded his hands together. “Just do what you can. Take it a day at a time and you’ll get through it. It looks hard now but you’ll take it a day at a time. You’ll get stronger. Trust me, I know what recovery is like.”
Bret nodded. It sounded like the kind of advice that he’d give someone else. “Stephanie waited around to see me after surgery, but I sent her away. Maybe it was the wrong move but I didn’t want to hear how she’s going to turn my big crisis into a ratings bonanza.”
“You don’t know that she’ll do that.”
“Why shouldn’t she?” Bret narrowed his eyes sharply. “That’s why we went out there. It’s what she wanted to catch and boy, did she. The Wilderness Billionaire, needing to be rescued out of his own plan. Yeah, it’d be such a great time. If only I wasn’t a schmuck.”
“You’re feeling sorry for yourself, which given the circumstances, is understandable.” Christopher leaned in close. “You deserve a little wallow time but don’t stay there forever. Trust me. I know how it festers. Before you realize it, you’re drinking, or sniffing, your life away. There’s nothing you can do except live through it.”
Bret figured Christopher probably knew better than anyone. “It’s been years but sometimes it feels like Jaime is right with me. And other times, all I can really remember is the pain from her death. It’s like we were never really happy. I can never let her go.”
“Maybe don’t let her go but find out how to move on. If you keep thinking about this Stephanie girl...”
Bret shot him a dirt look.
“Oh and what? You bring her up practically as soon as I step into the room. Maybe instead of turning her away, you should be inviting her in.”
Bret mulled that finer point over and was left with only more questions than he had statements. “Tell you what, you do me a favor first. You track her down for me? See if she’ll hand over the film of our time in the mountains. If she hands it over... maybe I will.”
Christopher shook his head. “You need to learn to trust people.”
“Please.”
“Fine,” he sighed. “But you owe me. Next time we head out to the rib place, you’re paying.”
Bret laughed. “Deal.” Money was the least of his problems.
The door opened as a brief knock came from outside. “Time for us to change your wound dressings, Mr. Mitchell.” The nurse smiled briefly as she made her way inside.
“That’s my cue. I’ll come see you again. And Lana, too. You’ll get through this, brother.”
Bret hoped Christopher was right. He wanted nothing more than to come out the other side with his life and self-esteem in tacked.