“Step aside!” I yelled to the crowd gathered around him, pushing them to pass through. “I’m a sports therapist!”

They cleared the way for me, and I dropped to my knees next to him. His strained face and clenched jaw were just one of the indicators that he was experiencing a huge amount of pain.

“Let me see it,” I told him, prying his hands off his knee gently. I studied his knee that still didn’t show any symptoms, but I knew it would start swelling soon. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“I wanted to turn around, but my foot was too planted in the ground. I felt as if my knee went inwards. Fuck.” He hissed, closing his eyes shut.

“I’m going to touch your knee now, okay? Let’s see if it hurts.” I applied only a small amount of pressure, but it was more than enough for him to yelp and flinch.

“Goddamn it!”

“Okay. So it also hurts when touched. The swelling didn’t start yet, but I suspect it will anytime soon. I need to do a thorough physical examination before I give you a diagnosis, but I’ll be able to do that in my clinic. You can’t walk, so do you want me to call the ambulance, or do you want your friends to help you get to your car? I’ll drive.”

A few beads of sweat slid down his temples. “Jared and other guys will help me reach my car. I think I can handle that much.”

“Okay, then. Let’s get going.”

As soon as I did a physical examination at Pathways, I called my old friend, a doctor who would be able to do an MRI and confirm if my suspicions were right or not. His knee wasn’t that swollen, but he was in a lot of pain and he had a loss of range of motion. I didn’t want to divulge my suspicions to him because I didn’t want to stress him unnecessarily before he got an MRI.

My friend agreed to see him right away, and it turned out I was right. He had torn the ACL ligament in his knee.

“So?” Liam asked, looking at me and my friend, who was studying his MRIs. “What’s my diagnosis, doc? Will I live, or will I live?”

I met my friend’s gaze and nodded to him as if to notify him he could tell Liam the news. Just by seeing his reluctance to inform Liam about his condition right away, I knew his injury wasn’t something that would pass soon.

“You tore your ACL ligament.”

Liam paled, his eyes darting between my friend and me. “No. It can’t be. Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then it means I won’t be able to play for months!”

“That’s true, but the recovery time is different among different people. In some cases, non-surgical treatment is enough. In your case, it will likely require surgery and at least three months of rehabilitation, but I’ll be frank with you. It can go up to six months.”

“No.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t have that much time.” The panic in his voice tugged at my heartstrings. “In that case, I’d miss playing the Euro cup, but I can’t miss it.”

“Mr. Morris, I understand this is a very difficult moment for you, and I’m truly sorry, but there is nothing you or I can do about it. This type of injury requires you to take some time off while doing exercises that will bring full mobility to your knee. You’ll have to wear a brace for a few weeks and possibly use crutches to walk. As a pro soccer player, I think you’re aware of the treatment procedure when it comes to injuries like this one. It’s not something that can be dealt with right away.”

He shook his head, reminding me of a defeated little boy. “No. This can’t be happening. I need to play as soon as possible.”

“Liam.” I placed my hand on his shoulder. His muscles were rigid underneath my palm. “You will barely be able to walk considering the instability in your knee, let alone play soccer. I’m so sorry this is happening to you, but I’ll help you.” I held his gaze, offering him a smile to comfort him. “I promise to take care of you before your surgery and do your post-surgery rehab. I’ll be with you every step of the way, and I’ll make sure I do everything in my power to help you in your recovery.”

His fast breathing didn’t cease, his eyes filled with fear and bitterness. I’d seen a fair share of sportsmen who went through a crisis in their career because of their serious injuries. It was difficult witnessing their downfall—a turning point in their lives that could completely destroy their future in their sport—but I had never felt as sad as I felt now. I wished I could magically remove his injury and erase the worry that was etched on his face.

I squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “Everything will be alright.” I had no idea why I’d said this since they were empty words, except that I wanted to console him and lift his spirits.

After a long time, he nodded, his face losing the previous edge. “It has to be since I have you.” He winked at me, curving his lips into a half-smile.

I responded with a giggle that could only be described as coquettish, and my friend raised his brow, clearly flummoxed by our more than friendly exchange.

“But I can’t miss the Euro cup.” His face grew serious again. “If I do…” He ran his hand through his hair. “It can seriously mess up my career.”

I could hardly maintain eye contact as I nodded to him and assured him once more that everything was going to be alright, for I knew there was almost one hundred percent chance he was going to miss it. But how could I tell him that?