She looked around the room, then brushed her fingertips across his knee. “Give it time, Garrett. Recovery is never fast. You’ll get there.”
“Yeah. Sure I will.” He slid off the table, then left the treatment room.
During the game, Garrett watched from the bullpen. Segundo pitched a shutout through eight innings, and Maloney closed the last inning for him. Garrett never got to pitch.
He’d never ached to be on the mound more in his life. He’d have given anything to even pitch the middle innings.
But what he really wanted was his own game. He wanted to start so badly it hurt.
In the locker room after the game, Garrett showered, dressed, then sat in front of his locker, hoping like hell the media would be more focused on Gavin and Dedrick and Stan, the playmakers who’d driven in the winning runs, and Segundo for his stellar turn on the mound today, and less on the fact that Garrett had been nonexistent. He couldn’t face them, had nothing to say.
Max came in and sat next to him. “You doing okay?”
He lifted his head and nodded. “Fine.”
“Your shoulder is fine, too, you know. But maybe it’s time for a change.”
Garrett frowned. “What kind of change?”
“You’ve been working with Alicia for a while now, and while she’s gotten you this far, maybe it’s time you let me take over and get you the rest of the way.”
“The rest of the way?”
“Your mechanics are good, but you’re not there yet. I have a few ideas for tweaking the small amount of scar tissue that’s still left in your shoulder, and I think we can get you back in the starting rotation.”
That would mean dumping Alicia. “Alicia’s been a lifesaver, you know. She really worked me back into shape. I wouldn’t be where I am now without her skills.”
“Oh, I know she did. Better than I thought she would, frankly. Now, let me take you the rest of the way.”
Garrett swallowed. This was his career, and he had to put it first. Even above Alicia’s feelings. It wasn’t like she’d be fired or anything. She’d done her part, and God, he was grateful. But he had to be a starting pitcher again, and if Max could make that happen . . .
“Fine. Whatever you think needs to be done, let’s do it.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
SOMETHING WAS GOING ON WITH GARRETT. ALICIA HAD no idea what it was, but she’d bet it had something to do with his unhappiness at being stuck in middle-inning relief.
She knew his shoulder therapy was still going well. He had full range of motion and exhibited no signs of pain when throwing the ball. The problem was, he’d pretty much climbed up into his own head and refused to talk to her. And when a player got into his own head, it was never a good sign. That’s where Garrett had been when she’d started working with him, and it had taken some effort to get him out of there.
Unfortunately, they hadn’t had any alone time together, first because of the road trip, then because of the string of home games, plus the media circus in St. Louis. She couldn’t even fathom the pressure Garrett must be under right now, but the last thing she was going to do was add to it with any kind of emotional stuff related to the two of them.
He had enough going on. There would be time later for the two of them to kick back and talk about their relationship. Right now she was more concerned about his career and where his head was. She needed to convince him that his pitching days weren’t over just because he wasn’t currently a starting pitcher.
She believed in him and in the work they’d done together. She knew he’d start again. The key was in convincing him.
She walked out onto the field where the pitchers were taking practice throws, ready to work with him and with the pitching coach. She and Bobby had gotten into a rhythm of diagnosing Garrett’s mechanics and working on adjustments that would affect his positioning. Bobby would ask her if that would hurt his arm in any way, and she would have Garrett throw and gauge his pain level.
These days, nothing seemed to cause him any pain, which was a very good sign, but she could tell afterward, when she did therapy, if any of the throwing mechanics had an adverse effect on his shoulder. The last thing they needed was to take any step backward in Garrett’s recovery.
This morning, Max was out there, and Garrett was already throwing. She grabbed her notebook and opened it, checking Garrett’s warm-up time. No, she wasn’t late.
“Morning, Max,” she said as she headed out onto the field.
“Alicia. Garrett, why don’t you come over here for a second? Give us a minute, Bobby,” Max said.
“Sure,” Bobby said, moving over to work with one of the other pitchers.
“Garrett and I spoke yesterday,” Max said. “You’ve done an excellent job, Alicia. But in order to effect more progress in his recovery, it’s time for a change.”
Alicia looked from Max to Garrett, who positioned his gaze somewhere over her shoulder, not at her.