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 he’d worked with all these months. 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.”
As soon as the door closed, he turned to Max.
“I want her in charge of my therapy.”
“Absolutely not,” 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, certified to do therapy like the rest of you, isn’t she?”
“Well, yes,” Max said.
“Then I want to work with her.”
“You have a multimillion-dollar arm, Garrett,” Max said. “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 Alicia to give it a try.”
Manny stood and ambled over. He was tough and always honest, so Garrett 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 Garrett 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 does 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 sports medicine team in one sentence had been a serious, colossal fuckup. She’d had some major 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 frustrating 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, providing 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 good job on their part. Garrett 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.
He wasn’t responding to traditional treatment. Which meant he needed a new plan, something she’d been working on during her off days. She’d wanted to present it to Max and Phil, but her methods were a little beyond the norm, and she knew they’d never go for it, especially not for Garrett.
Now, it didn’t matter since she wasn’t going to be treating any of the Rivers players any longer.
Idiot. She should have just kept her mouth shut and told Garrett that he should listen to whatever Max told him. This was going to be her penance for having a mind of her own. And a big mouth.
She lifted her head as Phil and Max came through the door, along with the Rivers coach, 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 yelled 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 wouldn’t have told the Rivers star pitcher to pull his head out of his ass.
“Alicia,” Phil said. “What you said to Garrett downstairs . . .”