I sat on the edge of my bed, my fingers gripping the sheets so hard my knuckles turned white. I tried to remember to take deep breaths, to not cry in front of Radleigh McCoy, but at the end of a day when everything seemed to be against me, I was fighting a losing battle. After physical examinations, an X-ray and an MRI scan, I was given the news I’d been dreading, with a little bit of extra bad news I hadn’t counted on. As well as a fully torn ACL, I’d also torn my PCL too. Basically, I’d seriously damaged the two major ligaments in my knee. The doctor had just left the room to give me some time to come to terms with the diagnosis, and I’d asked everyone to leave me alone, but McCoy wouldn’t go. He arrived while I was being X-rayed, and the first time I got to see him was when the doctor broke the bad news. I was glad he stayed. If anyone would understand my fears, it was him. “You’re career’s not over,”
