KEEP READING FOR AN EXCERPT FROM THE NEXT
PLAY-BY-PLAY NOVEL BY JACI BURTON
THROWN BY A CURVE
AVAILABLE SOON FROM BERKLEY BOOKS
GARRETT SCOTT SAT IN THE ST. LOUIS RIVERS THERAPY room facing an entire team of sports medicine specialists, all wearing looks of doom on their faces.
From the team doctor to the therapists who’d been working on his shoulder for the past nine months, their faces said it all—he wasn’t ready to pitch yet.
He was tired of it. Tired of being molded and manipulated and poked and prodded like some kind of experiment. His shoulder wasn’t getting any better and he still couldn’t throw a pitch. He was done. His career was over, and no amount of fake, hopeful expressions would make him believe any different.
“Let’s go over to the pulleys,” Max said. “If we increase the weight…”
“No. It’s not going to help. I can’t get my full range of motion and no pulleys, no weighted balls, no water therapy, and no amount of stretching is going to get it back.”
“You don’t know that, Garrett,” Max said. As head of the therapy team, when Max had a plan, everyone always listened. “We haven’t finished with the therapy and the season hasn’t started yet. There’s plenty of time.”
Phil, the team doctor, nodded. “Max is right. You just haven’t given it enough time.”
Garrett glared at them both. “I said no. This has been going nowhere and we all know it.”
Everyone started talking at once, but it was all white noise to him. They were blowing smoke up his ass about how he was going to pitch come April.
He’d heard it before, all the pats on the back and the encouragement that didn’t mean anything if you couldn’t get a fastball across the plate. They were just words. Empty promises.
The only one who didn’t say anything was the woman hovering in the background. Dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, she wore the same team-color polo shirt and khaki pants as the other specialists and held a digital notebook. And she was giving him a look. A pissed-off one.
“You haven’t said anything,” he said, focusing his gaze on her. “What do you think?”
She blinked and held her notebook close to her chest. “Me?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m not in charge of your recovery. There are people here with much more experience than me.”
“You’ve watched my therapy, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“What do you think?”
They all turned to her, waiting. She finally shrugged. “I think your team is right. You’ll pitch.”
“My arm is stiff.”
She moved forward and he got a good look at her. Despite the ugly uniform, she was pretty. Really dark hair and stunning blue eyes and a mouth that he was definitely noticing now that she’d opened it.
“Because you’re babying it, because you won’t give it your all. Your therapists know what they’re doing, but you fight them at every turn.”
As soon as she said it, her eyes widened. Max crossed his arms and Garrett could tell he was irritated.
Garrett wasn’t. His lips quirked. “Go on.”
“Look, I didn’t mean to insult you.”
“Yeah, you did. You’ve sat back quiet for all these months and you obviously have something on your mind. Spill it.”
She looked up at Max, who shook his head.
“Don’t look at him,” Garrett said. “Tell me what I’m doing wrong.”
She sat next to him on the bench and laid her notebook down, her gaze lifting to his.
“Fine. You’re argumentative, confrontational, and a general pain in the ass to deal with. Honestly, no one wants to work with you because you fight your recovery. Half of healing is mental and your head is the biggest obstacle to getting back on the mound.”
Huh. He looked up at the rest of the group, who all did their best to avoid his gaze. “I see.”
But when he looked back at—he had no idea what her name was. “What’s your name?”
“Alicia.”
“Okay, Alicia. You think you can make me a pitcher again?”
She gave him a confident smirk. “I know I can, if you pull your head out of your ass and work with me.”
He liked her confidence. He liked her. She sure as hell was better looking than the rest of the sports medicine group. And she smelled good.
“Alicia,” Max warned. “Why don’t you head up to the office and I’ll finish up here with Garrett?”
Alicia nodded, then stood and left the room.
Garrett laughed, the first time he’d laughed in a long damn time. “It’s okay, Max. I like her. She’s honest.”
He’d never noticed her much before because she’d either been an observer or working with another player. As soon as the door closed, he turned to Max.
“I want her in charge of my therapy.”