“Hello?” Her voice is full of smiles as she answers.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m out for the season,” I reply, and check my blind spot to switch lanes. “Doc just confirmed it. They made me come all the way to fucking Chicago to tell me that I can’t play.”

“I’m sorry. I thought you already knew that.”

“I was trying to get back in before the postseason.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Keep working on it. Exercise. Get it healthy.”

“Do you have to be in Denver to do that?” she asks.

“No, I suppose not.”

“Then get your butt to New Orleans. I have the perfect place for you to stay.”

THE END