“No,” Phil said, interjecting himself into the conversation. “As your doctor, I’m advising against it. Max is the head of sports medicine for the team. He’s the best. Alicia doesn’t have the experience he has.”
“I don’t give a shit if she’s the water girl. She’s confident. She’s a sports medicine specialist, isn’t she?”
“Well, yes,” Max said.
“Then I want to work with her.”
“You have a multimillion-dollar arm, Garrett. I’m not entrusting it to her.”
Garrett stood and stretched, then looked at Manny Magee, the St. Louis Rivers coach, who’d been sitting in the corner of the room, silently taking it all in. “These guys have all been working on me for months and I haven’t seen the results needed to throw a single goddamn pitch. I want her to work with me.”
Manny stood and ambled over. He was tough, and always honest, so he knew Manny would give it to him straight. “That’s because she’s right. Physically, you’re healing fine from the injury. A lot of your problem is you’re resisting the treatment.”
Maybe Manny was right, but he doubted it. What he needed was a new therapist. If Alicia and her smart mouth could get the job done, then maybe his career wasn’t over.
He looked at Manny—at all of them.
“I need a change. What we’re doing isn’t working. And maybe someone new can help with that.”
“I don’t give a damn if a circus clown works on your therapy, as long as you’re on the mound opening day,” Manny said. “Just be ready for the season. We need your arm.”
SHIT. SHIT. SHIT. ALICIA MASSAGED THE GIANT HEADACHE that had taken refuge between her eyes and counted down the minutes until her boss entered the office and fired her.
She’d always had a smart mouth, always spoke first and thought later. But to insult the entire St. Louis Rivers medical team in one sentence had been a serious, colossal fuck-up. She’d had some success as a therapist and had been getting great feedback from her boss in the time she’d been here. This was the job of her dreams, and to make matters worse, her cousin played for this team. Gavin was going to kill her.
The worst part was, she knew she was right. Garrett Scott was a seriously amazing pitcher. His injury had been bad, but there was no reason to think he wouldn’t come back and be a great pitcher again, provided he cooperated with his rehabilitation. The problem was, he was the worst patient she’d ever seen in terms of cooperation. He resisted therapy, he argued with the treatment plan, and she knew damn well he wasn’t doing his at-home exercises. He was one of those athletes who thought of himself as some kind of superhero. Get injured, do rehab, and be fine in a few weeks.
Unfortunately, serious injuries didn’t work that way, no matter how young or virile you were. You had to work at your own recovery. The team had done a fine job on their part. He just hadn’t done any of his part. He blew off his therapists with jokes and promises to do better the next time. And they all liked him so they placated him.
Ugh.
What he really needed was a fulltime babysitter. Which she didn’t want to be.
She lifted her head as Phil and Max came through the door, along with the Rivers’ coach and general manager, Manny Magee.
Great. They brought the coach with them. She was definitely fired. Manny had a reputation for being fiery and loud. She might even get screamed at before they canned her ass.
She sat up straight and lifted her chin, determined to take it like the professional she was.
Correction. If she was a professional, she probably shouldn’t have told the Rivers’ star pitcher to pull his head out of his ass.
“Alicia,” Phil said. “What you said to Garrett downstairs…”
“Yes, sir. I know. I was out of line. I’m sorry.”
“Actually,” Manny said, “it was exactly what he needed to hear.”
She frowned and shifted her gaze to the coach. “Excuse me?”
“Garrett has been the perfect specimen of a pitcher for five seasons,” Manny said. “We plucked him out of college ball, he spent six months in AAA before we brought him up, and he’s been in our starting rotation ever since, with one of the lowest ERAs of any pitcher in the league. He’s won the Cy Young Award twice, pitched a near-perfect game last year, and held the strike-out record the past two seasons. He’s the golden boy.”
She’d reviewed his file. She knew his record. But hearing it from Manny gave her an understanding. “He’s never failed.”
Manny nodded. “At anything. He doesn’t know how. So having this injury threw him for a loop, ya know? The kid is one of the nicest people I’ve ever worked with, so don’t take his black moods to heart. He’ll get that kindness back once he finds his footing.”
She looked from Manny to Phil to Max. “Wait. I’m not fired?”
Max laughed. “No, Alicia. You’re not fired. Instead, we’re putting you in charge of Garrett Scott’s rehab.”