She should have stood by that vow. Garrett had to trust her. They had to be partners in his recovery. How was that going to happen with this added tension between them?
She pushed that quandary aside and got him up on the pitcher’s mound, repeating what he thought were the same warm-up underhanded pitches from yesterday, following up with some soft overhand pitches.
She could tell he was bored and frustrated, and she needed to challenge him. His recovery was going well, and she wanted to know now before they got any further what his pitching mechanics were going to be like.
She held the ball in her hands. “Now, get into your windup, but don’t throw hard. Just loft one over, but throw a little harder than what we’ve been doing. And I don’t mean serious heat. Just a little faster.”
He stared at her. “I think I got it, Alicia. I don’t need you to draw me a road map.”
Oh, yeah. He was irritated. She got into the normal catcher’s stance, squatting down and prepping to receive a pitch.
“Would you like me to give you a signal?”
“Funny.” He paused, wound up, then threw her a hard ball that smacked into her glove. It stung, but she’d taken pitches from the pros in rehab before. She knew it was going to hurt.
She stood. “How did that feel?”
“Fine.” He waved at her with his glove. “Get back down there and let me throw some of my other pitches.”
“Okay. Again, no serious velocity on these.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
He burned the next five pitches into her mitt, and didn’t once pull up or wince like he was having any pain.
She caught the last ball and stood, pulling the ball out of her glove. “Your form looks good. How did those feel?”
He stepped off the mound. “Like I could pitch at least six good innings.”
She smiled and met him halfway. “Good. Let’s throw a few more, but still not too hard.”
He nodded, took the ball from her, and stepped back on the mound. They went at it for about forty-five minutes, and he did what she asked, using correct pitching form but not throwing too hard. Alicia kept watch to be sure he wasn’t favoring his right arm or giving off any signals that he was having pain. When he threw what she thought was enough pitches, she stopped him.
“That’s enough for now.”
Again, he didn’t complain, just tossed her the ball and left the mound, content to grab a bottle of water and cool down.
“How’s the arm?” she asked as they climbed into the car.
“It’s good. A little sore, but I’d expect that after not pitching for so long.”
“We’ll ice it down when we get back to the house. Then I’ll massage you.”
“Okay.”
He was being uncharacteristically cooperative. And businesslike. Which was exactly how she liked her patients to be. But not how her relationship with Garrett had been since they’d met. Now there was no banter, no easy conversation. She’d effectively shut that all down with her dismissal of them and the relationship they’d begun.
Admittedly, she missed it, but this was how it was supposed to be, how it must be. He was obviously coming to grips with the fact that they weren’t going to have a personal relationship. If that made her feel sad and empty—tough. It was exactly what she wanted, so she might as well get used to it.
She laid her gym bag on the floor when they got back to the house, then turned to him. “Ready for some ice?”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
“Come on. Let’s go into the workout room.”
He followed her into the room. She was conscious of him behind her, watching her as they headed down the hall. She wanted to turn to him or wait for him so they’d walk side by side, but she didn’t. Instead, she kept walking until they were inside the room. He walked right past her and to the cushioned bed where he stretched out and waited for her.
Ignoring the pang in her stomach, she retrieved the ice pack from the freezer, wrapped it in a towel, and brought it to him.
“Ten minutes,” she said.
He grabbed his music player and slipped in his earphones. “Got it.”
He’d tuned her out, deepening that ache in her stomach. She walked out of the room and hunted down her notebook. She set a timer and began to chart today’s notes in Garrett’s file.
The ten minutes passed much too quickly. But when she went into the workout room, she found only the ice pack lying there. Garrett was nowhere to be found. She loaded the ice pack back into the freezer and left the room.
Thinking Garrett had gone into his room, she walked out into the hall, but his door was open. She peeked her head in. He wasn’t there.
“Garrett?”