Winter Hart
I was so relieved when my father showed up at the hospital. I had just done an MRI. Troy, Sydney, and I were waiting for the results.
“Dad, what are you doing here?” I hugged him. I willed myself not to get emotional. My head was already pounding, and I was wearing dark sunglasses to help with the brightness.
“I should have been at your game, little one. I’m sorry. I have the jet on standby to take you home.” He held me.
“You didn’t have to come all this way, but I am glad you came.”
After we got the news that my brain was still slowly bleeding, we were able to get on the plane and head home. The doctor was confident the bleeding would stop on its own, but I had to get checked as soon as we landed.
By the time we had boarded, I was exhausted, but I made the mistake of
