They began discussing marriage at the end of their sophomore years.
With Brooke watching his every move on the playing field—even on the sidelines—Tanner started at strong side linebacker his junior year and was elected team captain as a senior. Though the hip still nagged him, he never let it show. Brooke’s athletic accomplishments rivaled Tanner’s. She lettered all four years and set three school records as a senior.
During graduation week, Tanner dropped to one knee and Brooke’s eyes immediately welled up as she covered her mouth in astonishment. In a deliberate and serious tone, he said, “Brooke Anne, I can’t even put into words my love for you. You have always been there for me. Through my highs and my lows. I can’t promise you a life of highs, but I can promise you I’ll love you always. You are my everything…” His lip quivered as he whispered, “Will you marry me?”
Tears streamed down Brooke’s creamy immaculate complexion. Too choked up to speak, she nodded rapidly, then drew a deep breath, smiled, and said, “Yes. Oh my God, yes!”
They married one year later.
A loud clank shook Brooke out of her daydream. Even though it was so long ago, her memories of Tanner never faded, just like their dream love. She heard a knock, then the door swung open. There stood Nurse Kankles holding a wheel chair. She eyed Brooke, then asked, “Are you alright?”
Brooke sniffled and swept her fingers under each eye. “I’m fine.”
“Okay, I’m going to cart you to your MRI.”
Brooke glanced away, still leery of her appearance, and said, “I can probably walk on it. The ankle doesn’t even hurt.”
“Sorry honey. Doctor’s orders. Take my hand.” Her man hands matched her kankles.
The MRI lasted ten minutes, and Brooke clung to her tiny smock the entire time. Thankfully, happy doctor dawg didn’t come in panting; she just wanted to throw on her sensible sweatpants and unrevealing T-shirt.
The test results were ready after only twenty minutes; Brooke figured a few days. There definitely were some advantages to the FOD thing she thought, as long as he doesn’t look at me.
Dr. Dixon Carter explained that she only had a bad sprain. Aside from some typical signs of wear and tear consistent with a cross country runner, she should heal in a few months.
“Great, that’s good news. Thanks for everything, Doc. I can see why Chase thinks you’re the best.” The moment the words left her mouth, Brooke regretted it.
“I’m flattered.”
“Is there anything I can do or some prescription you can write me to help it heal faster?”
Dixon’s mouth curled into a fiendish grin. He said, “Sure, my hot tub tonight. I’ll pick up a prescription for Moet & Chandon bubbly. Works wonders.”
Brooke felt like hurling what little food she had in her stomach. Her expression caused Dixie-dawg to actually back up one step, nearly falling into the corner. Usually, Brooke’s southern manners trained her to be polite no matter what. Rather than a customary no thank you , she said, “Um, no, I’d like to keep this professional.” She wished she had a rolled up newspaper.
Dixon mumbled, “Well, if you change your mind…maybe some other time when you’re feeling better?”
Brooke’s scowl propelled him out of the room without even attempting to respond. After scurrying out the door that shut harder than usual, she thought, what kind of person has friends like this? She pictured Dixie-dawg sifting through her personal records, causing a wave of nausea.
***
Brooke’s ankle still ached and she considered cancelling again. After pulling the ice pack from her freezer—the thought of Dixon touching it still repulsed her—she secured it around her ankle with an Ace bandage. The first few seconds felt especially frigid, even more agonizing than last time; she wished it would subside. And hopefully, help ease the trip.
The throbbing dissipated as Brooke merged onto the I-40 onramp toward
With Brooke watching his every move on the playing field—even on the sidelines—Tanner started at strong side linebacker his junior year and was elected team captain as a senior. Though the hip still nagged him, he never let it show. Brooke’s athletic accomplishments rivaled Tanner’s. She lettered all four years and set three school records as a senior.
During graduation week, Tanner dropped to one knee and Brooke’s eyes immediately welled up as she covered her mouth in astonishment. In a deliberate and serious tone, he said, “Brooke Anne, I can’t even put into words my love for you. You have always been there for me. Through my highs and my lows. I can’t promise you a life of highs, but I can promise you I’ll love you always. You are my everything…” His lip quivered as he whispered, “Will you marry me?”
Tears streamed down Brooke’s creamy immaculate complexion. Too choked up to speak, she nodded rapidly, then drew a deep breath, smiled, and said, “Yes. Oh my God, yes!”
They married one year later.
A loud clank shook Brooke out of her daydream. Even though it was so long ago, her memories of Tanner never faded, just like their dream love. She heard a knock, then the door swung open. There stood Nurse Kankles holding a wheel chair. She eyed Brooke, then asked, “Are you alright?”
Brooke sniffled and swept her fingers under each eye. “I’m fine.”
“Okay, I’m going to cart you to your MRI.”
Brooke glanced away, still leery of her appearance, and said, “I can probably walk on it. The ankle doesn’t even hurt.”
“Sorry honey. Doctor’s orders. Take my hand.” Her man hands matched her kankles.
The MRI lasted ten minutes, and Brooke clung to her tiny smock the entire time. Thankfully, happy doctor dawg didn’t come in panting; she just wanted to throw on her sensible sweatpants and unrevealing T-shirt.
The test results were ready after only twenty minutes; Brooke figured a few days. There definitely were some advantages to the FOD thing she thought, as long as he doesn’t look at me.
Dr. Dixon Carter explained that she only had a bad sprain. Aside from some typical signs of wear and tear consistent with a cross country runner, she should heal in a few months.
“Great, that’s good news. Thanks for everything, Doc. I can see why Chase thinks you’re the best.” The moment the words left her mouth, Brooke regretted it.
“I’m flattered.”
“Is there anything I can do or some prescription you can write me to help it heal faster?”
Dixon’s mouth curled into a fiendish grin. He said, “Sure, my hot tub tonight. I’ll pick up a prescription for Moet & Chandon bubbly. Works wonders.”
Brooke felt like hurling what little food she had in her stomach. Her expression caused Dixie-dawg to actually back up one step, nearly falling into the corner. Usually, Brooke’s southern manners trained her to be polite no matter what. Rather than a customary no thank you , she said, “Um, no, I’d like to keep this professional.” She wished she had a rolled up newspaper.
Dixon mumbled, “Well, if you change your mind…maybe some other time when you’re feeling better?”
Brooke’s scowl propelled him out of the room without even attempting to respond. After scurrying out the door that shut harder than usual, she thought, what kind of person has friends like this? She pictured Dixie-dawg sifting through her personal records, causing a wave of nausea.
***
Brooke’s ankle still ached and she considered cancelling again. After pulling the ice pack from her freezer—the thought of Dixon touching it still repulsed her—she secured it around her ankle with an Ace bandage. The first few seconds felt especially frigid, even more agonizing than last time; she wished it would subside. And hopefully, help ease the trip.
The throbbing dissipated as Brooke merged onto the I-40 onramp toward
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