“I get that. But I’ll be with the team, and that’s a move in the right direction. I know I’ll be pitching soon enough.”
She hoped so, and she hoped her treatment plan was spot-on, because if she disappointed him, or if his arm wasn’t ready yet, he’d be devastated. And she wasn’t sure he’d recover from that.
TWENTY-ONE
GARRETT LOVED THE SMELL OF A BALLPARK. THE ONE here in Florida wasn’t even a major-league park, but it was still a baseball field. The smell of the dirt and the feel of the grass under his cleats as he walked out onto the field reminded him of opening day, of what he’d spent the last eight years preparing himself for at the start of every season.
He’d been so afraid that he was going to miss out on this, that for the first time since he’d graduated college, he’d be left behind and be forced to spend the season sitting in the dugout.
It could still happen, but for the first time, he had hope, and that was the one thing that had been lacking all these months since his injury. At first he’d been scared, and then when his arm hadn’t healed right away, he’d been down and depressed, certain his career was over. All the therapy in the world hadn’t gotten into his head or kicked him in the ass, forcing him to work for the goal.
Alicia had, though. She’d known what it was going to take for him to get there, to reach for what he wanted, and to really work at it. All the tools had been right there in his grasp; all he’d had to do was put in the effort.
They were far from finished. He knew that. But for Garrett, it was more than just the chance to get back to work. It was being at the ballpark again, surrounded by his peers. And the crowd. God, he loved the fans, the sounds they made, even the boos when he had a bad game.
He’d been isolated for so long that he’d even take a rousing chorus of boos, as long as he could just be here.
Even better, Alicia was here with him, working with him on the sidelines. He might not be throwing warm-up pitches with his teammates, but he was at least throwing pitches today. They still weren’t the kind of pitches he wanted to throw, but he had to focus on his recovery and his arm, and not on Walter Segundo, the fiery right-hander who was his fiercest competitor and no doubt a lock to start on opening day.
Walter was currently throwing off the mound and firing bullets into the catcher’s mitt. His accuracy was off the charts, and his ERA was nearly as good as Garrett’s had been before his injury. Garrett knew he’d been the best pitcher the Rivers had—before he’d screwed up his shoulder.
Would he be that good again? That was the multimillion-dollar question, wasn’t it?
“Hey.”
He shifted his gaze to Alicia, who was kneeling with a catcher’s mitt in her hand. “Yeah?”
“Pull your head out of your ass and focus on me, not on Walter or the other players. You want to be here at the ballpark? Then eyes on me.”
He wanted to make a smart remark about how he’d rather have his eyes on her great ass or maybe it would be better if she was naked or several other completely inappropriate remarks, but there were other guys hovering nearby. So instead, he nodded and said, “Yeah. Got it. Focus.”
“Good. Throw a slow one at me.”
“I’ve been throwing slow ones at you for the past hour.”
“Good. Fling me a few more, and quit whining about it.”
He heard the snickers of his teammates, which didn’t bother him in the least. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d ribbed one another about a workout with a trainer. Hell, if Manny wasn’t chewing your ass out on a daily basis, you felt like he didn’t like you anymore. Alicia was a kitten by comparison.
Speaking of the Rivers coach, he made his way over to them when the rest of the team took a break.
Alicia looked wide-eyed and terrified at Manny’s approach, which amused the hell out of Garrett. He gave her credit for continuing with what she was doing, which was taking pitches from him.
Manny stood and watched for a while, then sauntered over to Garrett.
“I see she’s finally got you throwing some pitches.”
“Some weak ones, but yeah, I’m finally throwing.”
“They look like shit,” Manny said.
Alicia looked horrified. Garrett grinned. “Yeah, they do. But it’s more than I’ve thrown since the injury. And my arm feels great.”
Manny scrutinized Garrett, then Alicia. Garrett always thought Manny looked like an old grizzled pirate when he gave that squint. Manny finally nodded and slapped Garrett on the back. “Good enough. Keep it up.”
When he walked away, Alicia slumped and dropped her glove. Garrett walked down the field toward her then leaned over.
“Are you breathing?”
She lifted her head. “I can’t help it. He scares the crap out of me.”