Cathrine was already out of her chair when Amelia entered the office, holding out a thick folder.
"Fresh off the printer," she announced brightly. "All the post op results."
Amelia sank into a chair and flipped through the pages, her mind automatically filtering the noise from the crucial details. Years of experience had taught her how to separate what mattered from what didn't. Numbers and charts filled her vision, but her thoughts were already moving faster than her eyes.
Cathrine perched on the edge of the desk, crossing her arms. "Multiple damage sites around the joints," she said, her tone a mix of professional concern and curiosity. "The nerves are a complete mess. Most doctors are saying even with another surgery, he might never race again."
