“I don’t understand.”
“Just to shake things up a bit. I’ve got a few ideas that I think will eliminate the remainder of the scar tissue in Garrett’s shoulder and will get him back on the mound as a starter.”
“Yes, Max, so do I.” She flipped open her notebook. “If you look here . . .”
But Max waved his hand. “It’s okay, Alicia. I’ve got this now. Transfer your notes on Garrett to my desk. Why don’t you go tape up Cleron’s ankle? He’s complaining of some soreness.”
“But—”
“That’s the final word, Alicia. You’re off Garrett’s case.”
She looked at Garrett, who gave her a short nod. “I’m sure Max will do a good job of getting me the rest of the way. Thanks for all you’ve done, Alicia.”
Thanks for all you’ve done? That was it? It was like they were strangers. And just like that a chasm opened between the two of them, a distance she’d felt for a while now but had ignored.
She pasted on a professional smile and nodded to Max.
“Okay, Max, sure. I’ll have those notes transferred to your files right away.”
She turned and headed toward the locker room so she could grab her kit that held the tape for Cleron’s ankle. With every step, the emptiness in the pit of her stomach grew.
It wasn’t personal, despite the devastation she felt. This was part of her job, so the ache in her stomach could just take a hike.
It was time for distance between her and Garrett, anyway. He needed to focus on his pitching, and she needed to get back to what she did, which was work for the sports-medicine team in whatever capacity they needed her.
Their time together was coming to an end. Or maybe it had ended a couple of weeks ago, and Garrett had been the only one to notice it while she’d been working so hard on his arm, trying so desperately to put her feelings on the back burner. Because it had been his career that had been so important to her, and his feelings that she’d been tiptoeing around.
While he’d just crushed hers without a second thought.
Tears pricked her eyes. She swiped them away, refusing to be such a girl about the situation. She was at work and she was going to be a goddamned professional. This wasn’t about her and Garrett as a couple; this was about Garrett, her client.
Getting personally involved with a client had been the problem all along. She’d known this would happen as soon as the two of them had climbed into bed together.
Ending their personal relationship was for the best. She knew it, and obviously Garrett knew it, too. She’d known from the beginning they wouldn’t be able to work together once his shoulder healed. And being together while they worked for the same team was a conflict of interest. There was no way she was giving up her job. She loved her work with the Rivers, had fought hard to get this job. It was iffy as it was with her cousin playing for the team. Having a relationship with another player? If that was discovered by her bosses, it would be death to her career.
It was time she categorized her relationship with Garrett where it belonged—a wonderful interlude, something she’d remember fondly, but not something that could be continued.
It was over. Door closed. Done. Already forgotten.
She pulled up Garrett’s treatment file on her notebook and sent it to Max. When she came out of the locker room, she headed straight for the bench, focusing only on Cleron. She didn’t once look up, didn’t once search out Garrett. She had to make a clean break from him, not let her emotions cloud her logic.
She kneeled in front of Cleron. “Okay, Jeff. Let’s take a look at that ankle.”
*
GARRETT WATCHED ALICIA WORK ON CLERON’S ANKLE. She never looked over at him, not even a glance over her shoulder.
What did he expect after the way he treated her? The shock in her eyes when Max had told her he was taking over, followed by the look of pain that crossed her face when Garrett had basically given her a kiss-off still stuck in his gut like a hard punch.
“Garrett. You’re not focusing,” Bobby said. “You haven’t hit the strike zone in six pitches.”
Garrett walked off the mound, his concentration broken. He shouldn’t be focusing on Alicia. This was his chance to change his pitching style, to have Max finish off his rehab, and to finally—finally—get back his starting pitching job. He couldn’t take this personally, and neither should Alicia. It wasn’t personal, it was his career.
And, unfortunately, hers. She had probably taken it personally, and she likely thought he was dumping her personally on top of dumping her professionally.
Shit. He took off his ball cap and threaded his fingers through his hair.
You didn’t treat someone you loved that way.
Wait.
Loved?
He shot his gaze across the ballpark toward the dugout.
Alicia was gone. Cleron was back in the outfield, but Alicia was nowhere to be found.
He already felt the emptiness.