Текст книги "The Heat of the Moment"
Автор книги: Katie Rose
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He skipped the pill, opting for a beer instead, but he got an ice pack out of the freezer and applied it to his knee. Not one to indulge in self-pity, he decided to do something positive.
He picked up the phone and called his girlfriend.
“Hi, Kris.”
“Hi! I wasn’t expecting you!” There was an awkward pause, and for a second he wondered who she’d thought was calling. But she continued brightly. “So how are you doing? How is it out there?”
“Cold,” he admitted, resting the leg on the coffee table. “There was frost this morning. I’m going to have to get some warmer clothes.”
“Wow. Is that normal?”
“No one seems to care.” Except me, he amended. “I met most of the team today. They are a bunch of characters. I heard the Sonics were known as pranksters; got to experience that firsthand.” Briefly he told her about the pranks.
“Oh, no,” she said, but he could tell she was distracted, as if looking at her texts. “So do you like them? The players, I mean.”
“Yes,” he said, taking another sip of the beer. “They seem to be great guys. The clubhouse and ballpark aren’t as nice as Dodger Stadium, but apparently they have a loyal fan base. I was surprised to see how many people showed up in this weather. All in all, it’s okay.”
“So how are you feeling?”
“Good. I started physical therapy today. I’m sure in a couple of weeks I’ll be right back in the swing of things.”
His knee throbbed at the lie, but he didn’t want to tell her what he really thought, didn’t want to whine. He felt it was important to appear successful to her, no matter what.
“Is the trainer as good as the guy you had here?”
“It’s a woman. Her name is Jessica, and yeah, she does seem very competent.”
There was a pregnant pause. “A female? Do I need to be concerned?”
“C’mon.” He laughed. “You know better. She’s there to help me with the exercises, to get back into the game. It’s a working relationship. That’s all.”
“Okay, if you say so. I just don’t like the idea of another woman’s hands all over you.” He could see her pout. “Listen, got to go. I’ll call you later!”
“Sure.”
She hung up the phone before he could say he loved her, and it occurred to him that she had stopped offering endearments some time ago. Frowning, he remembered when they would talk for hours. Now, she always seemed rushed, as if she had something better to do…
He shook his head and told himself he was being ridiculous. She was just busy. Kristin was experiencing increasing success as a model, and she loved clothes, shopping, and fashion. Yet as her picture faded, an odd thought flickered through his brain.
Jessica Hart was her own person. She had a job that she was good at, helped other people, contributed. A purpose-driven life.
Grabbing another beer, he propped his aching knee up one more time and turned on the TV. Checking the weather Doppler, he saw that another frost was predicted that night.
California dreamin’ indeed.
Chapter 3
“How are you doing today?”
Gavin looked up as Jessica appeared beside him on the table. One of the assistants had already wrapped his leg with the heating pad and had stuffed a couple of pillows beneath the limb.
“Restless,” he admitted, staring at the knee in frustration. “I am not used to hanging around.”
Thankfully, he noticed she had her cap on, her hair stuffed beneath the red canvas. A few recalcitrant curls popped out beneath the brim, framing her face, and he thought of that moment last night when she had taken off her hat and that hair had spilled out everywhere…
“I hear that,” she continued, and he could see the amused sparkle in her green eyes as she surveyed him. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
She began to unwrap the bandage, examining the wound. “It looks pretty good. Are you doing the Epsom salts bath at night?”
“Yeah. Not sure why, but I thought it worked better than the meds.”
That was the truth. When she had suggested the baths as part of his regimen, he’d thought she was crazy, that this was some girl thing. But he’d had to stop at the drugstore anyway to pick up his prescription, and while he was waiting in line he saw the carton sitting on a nearby shelf. He’d tossed it in his cart, along with a box of tissues and other things he needed for the townhouse.
After he’d gotten home and completed his call to Kristin, the knee was hurting. He’d tried a couple of pillows, the ice, and finally the meds. While it wasn’t killing him, the ache was substantial enough to keep him awake. So he’d finally given in, filled the tub with salts and hot water, wrapped the knee in plastic, and soaked. By the time he got out, he’d been surprised to find the pain almost gone.
“It’s the magnesium,” Jessica said as if reading his thoughts. “It has a calming effect on the nervous system and helps with inflammation. Even the little bit we did yesterday was probably enough to irritate the nerves around the knee. There are also vascular benefits from the salts, and the bath helps to detox the body.”
“I had to admit I didn’t think it would do anything, but it got rid of the pain and I could sleep.”
“Good. So let’s see what kind of trouble we can get into today. We’ll start with some quad sets. I’ll show you how to do the exercise, but if you feel any pain or irritation, I need to know right away. We can put a towel under your knee for support if necessary.” Those green eyes met his and he saw that her lashes were the same copper as her hair. “No acting the tough guy,” she said. “If you do, you will set us both back. I can see some things by watching how the muscles react, but I need you to tell me how you’re feeling.”
“All right,” he reluctantly agreed. He didn’t want to admit that he hurt. But he understood what she was saying.
“Tighten the muscles on top of the knee,” she said, bending over him. “Like this.” She prompted him to press the leg toward the cot. “Any pain?”
“Nope.”
“Good. Hold for six seconds, then rest. Do ten of these to start, and if you feel as much as a twinge, I need to know.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, but he grinned as Jessica narrowed her eyes, and then went on to do the exercise as she had instructed. At first it seemed ridiculously easy, but after a few repetitions he began to experience discomfort. Before he could even put up his hand, she was beside him.
“Starting to bother you?” When he nodded, wondering if she was psychic, she didn’t seem at all surprised. “Take a breather. We’ll try again in a couple of minutes.” She gave him an understanding smile when she saw his expression. “You’re doing fine. Better to go slow than to create another injury.”
When he attempted the movement again, it was easier. “Not so bad now,” he admitted.
“You’re just a little rusty,” she observed. “That’s to be expected. When you’re done with that set, take a break. Trust me, we have all the time in the world.”
He lay back on the pillows, disgusted with himself. If this tiny movement caused pain, how the hell was he going to get healthy enough to get back in the game? It seemed impossible. He reminded himself that he was recovering from surgery, but as someone who had always been fit, feeling vulnerable wasn’t his strong suit.
A few minutes later, she left off cleaning up towels and folding sheets to come sit beside him. She lifted his knees so that his feet were flat, then let her hand linger for a few minutes, warming the muscle. “Listen, even the greatest athletes in the world experience doubt the first time they get hurt. A month from now, this will all be just a bad memory. Wait until you see what your body can do, how it repairs itself. It truly is a miracle.”
“You really believe that?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Yes. We don’t heal a wound; we just get out of the way, support nature’s process to help speed things along. Does this make sense?”
He nodded. Somehow her calm certainty lifted his mood and helped dispel the nagging fear that threatened to derail him. She let go of his leg and stepped back, picking up her clipboard and making some notes.
“Let’s do some hamstring contractions next. All you have to do is dig your heels into the table and hold for a couple of seconds.”
She smiled encouragingly as he did as she instructed, but he was still very aware that she’d touched him. His legs seemed to tingle from the innocent contact, and he recalled Kristin’s words, that she didn’t want another woman’s hands all over him. He hadn’t thought about that until now, but he had to admit there was something in Jessica’s caress that felt warm and healing.
“Reiki,” she said, once again answering his silent question. “It’s an ancient form of energy healing. I take it you would rather make progress more quickly, right?” She grinned before he could respond. “We are going to be working together quite a bit. Why don’t you tell me about yourself? How you got into baseball?”
He was surprised that she cared, and wondered if she was simply trying to distract him. In any case, it worked. He told her about growing up in California, the magnificent weather that encouraged outdoor activity. His father had been in the minor leagues, and from the time he was born, the old man had a baseball in his hand. She listened intently, obviously knowledgeable about sports and baseball in particular, and he barely noticed when she rearranged his legs again while asking more questions.
She was so interesting to talk to, he discovered. Women, for the most part, had always been a mystery to him. While they were beautiful to look at, fun to undress, and satisfying to sleep with, he never felt he understood their thought processes.
But with Jessica, it was different and he wasn’t sure why. He noticed that today she was wearing what looked like yoga pants and a soft yellow tank top that showed off her toned body and flattered her freckled skin. She was attractive, but in a very different way than the women he was used to. Yet he was intrigued, and felt that if he weren’t committed elsewhere, he would definitely be interested…
“Okay, turn over. We are going to work your quads. Now just push the ankle down, try to straighten your leg as much as you can. You’ve got it. Just hold five seconds, and then release.”
After he’d complied, she said, “Now turn onto your back. We are going to try a couple of leg raises.”
The pain was getting intense, but he’d be damned if he would admit it. “Okay if I have a minute?”
“Sure.” She nodded. “I’ll go get the laundry.”
Gavin scuttled quickly off the table and disappeared into the washroom, his frustration at the boiling point. Gazing at his reflection, he felt like a shadow of his former self, a weakling who struggled to perform the tiniest movement. Is that how he appeared to Jessica? Did she think less of him as a man?
The notion was mortifying, and he splashed cold water on his face to snap out of it. Why should he care what she thought? She was just a physical therapist, there to help him, nothing more. Yet as he leaned against the sink, he realized that he did. For whatever reason, Jessica Hart’s opinion mattered.
Like it or not.
–
She was cleaning up, spraying the cots with a vinegar-water mixture, a natural disinfectant, when Pete came in. “How are things going?”
Jessica indicated the men’s room and shrugged. “It’s tough on him. New place, new people.” She lowered her voice so that only the manager could hear her. “He’s young, and it can be very humbling to go from being a star athlete to struggling to lift a leg. He’s like an injured thoroughbred, waking up from surgery and thrashing around, trying to find his bearings.” Her eyes shifted to the restroom door. “He also seems a little down.”
“So what do you think to do about it?” Pete asked thoughtfully. For once the gum was silent.
It took her a minute to realize what he meant. “I’m starting him out really slow so that he doesn’t hurt himself, and he can see progress. That will help his confidence. Once he gets better, stronger, we can build on that success. I want him to begin swimming when he’s ready. It’s a good low-impact cardiovascular workout. That will help him too, to see that the rest of his body is still strong, the way he remembered.”
And magnificent, she thought dryly.
“How long?” Pete asked.
She knew what he was thinking. The season had just started, and if Gavin made good progress, could he contribute to the club this summer? She didn’t want to raise his hopes, and she didn’t want him putting undue pressure on her new patient. However, she didn’t want to discourage him, either.
“Rehabilitation after this kind of surgery usually takes four to five months total. He’s already four weeks in, so it’s possible that by the All-Star break he could be back in the game. Not full-time,” she amended when she saw the manager’s eyes light up. “But yes, it might work out, at least by the end of July, or maybe August.”
Pete grinned as Gavin rejoined them. “So I hear you’re doing pretty good,” he said to the ballplayer. “If you’re done for today, why don’t you take a seat on the bench, watch the game. Will be important for you to start to get to know the guys, to understand our strategy, and where you will fit in. Make sense?”
“Yes.” Snatching up his towel, Gavin eagerly followed Pete out to the ball field. Jessica smiled, aware of Pete’s motivation. The sooner Gavin got acclimated, made some friends and got his head back into baseball, the better. She would work his body while Pete took care of his mind.
It made for a good program.
But as her thoughts went back to him, lying helpless and frustrated on the table, she couldn’t help the little lurch in her heart. What he was going through was hard. She remembered a time when her brother Logan had torn a ligament and was laid up for a few weeks one summer and couldn’t play soccer. He was like a bear, growling at everyone, furious when he realized he had no choice but to rest and wait. So she understood the emotions, the pain, and the impatience to be whole once more. Unlike her brother, Gavin was suppressing all of that, keeping a game face on and trying to act the tough guy. She’d take care of that, too, draw him out and make him feel.
Anger turned inward, she knew, leading to depression.
She also knew she had her work cut out for her, but that didn’t scare her. What did was the unknowing. Until he started playing, really tested his knee, they could not predict his recovery. Some athletes made it back 100 percent; some were never the same. They faded like a dying star, and inevitably, some new, talented rookie took their place.
She could only pray that wouldn’t be Gavin’s fate.
Chapter 4
Gavin took his seat on the bench. The Sonics were playing the Mets, and were down by two runs in the third inning.
Jimmy Reilly was pitching; Chase Westbrook was the ace starting pitcher, followed by Jimmy and then Brett Kirby. They sat in the dugout, watching the game. At least Chase did. Brett appeared to have fallen asleep.
Jimmy took his place on the mound with a grin, pounding the ball on his glove like a Little Leaguer taunting the other team.
Right away Gavin noticed the lack of the attention and focus he was used to with the Dodgers. The Sonics, he realized, was a team of very young players and a few older guys other organizations cut loose. With the exception of Jake, Chase, Cody, and a couple of other core members, this team was heavily weighted with rookies just brought up from the farm.
And it showed. There was a lot of goofing around, playful shoving, and general tomfoolery that wouldn’t be tolerated at his old team. One of the guys, Timmy Garvey, he thought, showed up late and was benched, while several others appeared hung over. Even the talk around him was different. In the Dodgers dugout, his teammates would watch the game intently, having viewed videos the night before to study the pitches and the rotation and develop a plan.
Here he heard the guys complaining about the lunch, which admittedly was lousy, and bellyaching about the workouts and management. Apparently the previous year the management had tried to instill some discipline, and had hired a PR rep to make sure their work didn’t go unnoticed. Rumor had it she was Jake’s girlfriend and was now employed elsewhere. Pete tried to retain the changes she had made, and met with rebellion. Like little kids, the players griped about the very things that would ensure their success.
How the hell did the Sonics make it to the World Series?
The pitching wasn’t bad. Jimmy wasn’t in Chase’s league yet, but he threw a decent fastball, and followed that up with a nice curveball. Ben Washington drove it into the outfield in what should have been an easy play. The right fielder, Pat Murphy, called it, but then Brian charged out of center field. Unfortunately, in a scene destined to be recorded in the bloopers, they collided. The two Sonics outfielders fell to the ground, and the ball dribbled between them out to the wall.
Ben got to second by the time Pat and Brian recovered, got the ball, and threw to Jake. Pete shook his head in disbelief.
“What the hell is going on with these boys today?” The manager leaned on the rail, frantically chomping on his gum. He appeared to be talking to himself. “Out last night, drinking and partying. I don’t think there’s a brain cell among you.”
“Not a one,” the pitching coach, Dick Dubell, agreed. He spat a wad of tobacco onto the ground and seemed to admire the mess it made.
Pete eyed the bench behind him. “You boys had better get your act together. Jeffrey is getting real tired of these antics, and I’m getting sick of playing nursemaid.”
But the little speech didn’t seem to have a whole lot of effect. The players quieted for a few minutes, but as soon as Pete turned around, started kvetching again.
It was then that Gavin noticed one of the relief pitchers at the end of the bench was wearing a cast. He nudged Toby Martin, a pinch hitter, and indicated the plaster foot.
“What happened to him?”
Toby shrugged. “Andy Jennings?” Leaning back in his seat so that he wouldn’t be overheard, he continued. “He was a little upset at a call that went against him in spring training. He went into the locker room and kicked a chair. His big toe and a couple of other bones got the worst of it.”
Gavin’s mouth dropped. No experienced player would ever do anything to risk his health like that, let alone as a result of a hissy fit. Bad calls were part of the game; you got used to it over time. And since the advent of replays, they were less and less common. But as he stared at the relief pitcher, he realized the kid was maybe twenty-two years old. While Gavin certainly wasn’t ancient at twenty-six, those few years mattered.
He got up to get something to drink. There was a water cooler in the dugout, but he was thinking in terms of an iced tea or a mineral water. “Want anything?” he offered.
Toby shook his head. “Nah, I’m hoping to play today. Jimmy was puking his guts up this morning after being out all night. I think Pete may pull him after another inning or two, and give me a chance to hit.”
Gavin got up and went inside. At Dodger Stadium, there was always a bucket filled with ice and refreshments, Fiji water, Arizona iced tea, Coke…you name it. But here there was a soda machine, and to his astonishment, drinks cost two bucks.
Fortunately, he’d stashed a little cash in his pocket.
Unfortunately, it was a ten and a one. The machine took only coins and singles.
One of the administrators passing by offered him a dollar. “You must be the new guy,” he said sympathetically. “The rest of us know to carry change or you’re hosed. No freebies here.”
“Thanks.” Gavin put the bill into the slot along with his own and then selected iced tea. The machine ate his money and made a few impressive noises, but nothing happened. He waited a few minutes, tried repeatedly pressing the button, even shaking the machine, but no bottle fell into the tray below.
Suddenly, he understood why Andy had kicked a chair. He was getting pretty close to that himself. With no drink in his hand and his money gone, he went outside to the water cooler.
Apparently, H2O was the only game in town.
–
“Hey Jess, how’s it going?”
She looked up to see the manager of the clinic, Phil Dennings, approach with a stack of folders in his hand.
“Okay,” she said, finishing the task of folding the towels. “Pete brought in the new player, Gavin King.”
“I know him,” Phil said, obviously impressed. “He was the big up-and-comer for the Dodgers. Fairly young kid, right?”
“Twenty-six.” Jessica indicated the file.
“He has a hell of an arm. Check this out.” He clicked on his phone, and found the YouTube video and showed it to Jessica. Her eyes widened as she saw Gavin nail the ball with a nice easy swing, and send it over the wall into the upper deck. “That was when they played Seattle.” Phil clicked the video off. “He is incredibly talented. It’s amazing he came here.”
“He tore a meniscus.” She held up the MRI film to the light. “Would you mind taking a look? I’m putting a program together for him and would appreciate your thoughts.”
“No problem.” He held up the MRI and examined it carefully, and then glanced at the surgeon’s report. “It’s a nasty tear. But it looks like the doctor was able to shave a lot of the bad tissue away. And most of the damage is in the outer part of the knee. I can see why they decided to take a chance with the surgery.”
Jessica nodded. “I’m thinking to take it easy for a few weeks until he is fully healed. We’re doing quad reps, exercises like that. I want him to start swimming, too. It can help rebuild the muscles without stressing the joints.”
“I like it.” Phil nodded. “I think you should start a walking regimen as well. Let the leg get used to the normal range of motion. I would wait a good four months before any pivoting or cutting moves. He’s going to want to start batting practice. It’s really important that he keep the weight off that knee, and that he avoid any sudden twists or turns.”
“Right. I’m going to make sure he understands all that before he picks up a bat. I can’t see him backtracking just because of something stupid. And it doesn’t take much; a slight imbalance, a little too much lean in a batting stance, and he could reinjure himself fairly quickly.”
The door opened, and Phil immediately went back to his work as a reporter entered the room. Chris Smith gave Jessica a friendly smile and sat down next to her desk, indicating the files with a nod of his head.
“I hear you’re taking care of the new guy, Gavin.” It was a statement more than a question.
Jessica glanced at Phil, who did an eye roll and then returned to his office, leaving her alone.
With the wolves, she thought.
“How can I help you?” She didn’t particularly like the media representatives, but she understood they were a necessary evil.
“Just wanted to ask a few questions about the kid. Do you think he’s going to be okay? Is he working out? When do you think he’ll be back in the game?”
Her eyes met his with all the warmth of New Jersey in January. “I’m sure you know that due to HIPAA regulations, I am not allowed to discuss the health of a client even if I were so inclined.”
“Oh, I know all that.” He waved a hand dismissingly, and then gave her his most charming smile as his eyes took a walk all over her. “Why don’t you and I grab a beer, maybe something to eat? I imagine you have been working all day and can use a bite. I promise not to ask anything that will make you uncomfortable.”
“I am not the right person for you to talk to,” Jessica said firmly. “If you go into the administrative offices, we have a PR staff that will be more than happy to assist you. Now if you don’t mind, I want to finish cleaning up, and then I have some paperwork to do.”
She turned to walk away when, to her astonishment, she saw him reach for the MRI. “This is his, right?” He gave her a naughty little-boy grin.
But she snatched the file out of his hands along with the surgeon’s report and made a point of locking them securely in a metal filing cabinet. When she looked back to the reporter, her expression was anything but amused.
“You need to go. Now.”
“Okay, okay,” he said, sighing in resignation. But as he got up and left, he gave her one last pleading glance that she ignored.
Once he had departed, Phil returned, looking around as if sensing the tension in the room.
“Everything all right?”
“Everything’s just fine,” Jessica said meaningfully. “That reporter was asking questions about Gavin. This could be a problem,” she said, and then looked pensively at the filing cabinet. “I locked his records, but one of the assistants may inadvertently say something. We have to make sure they understand the legal ramifications of divulging any information about his condition.”
“I agree.” He glanced at a young woman putting sheets into the washer. “I’ll set up a meeting in the morning and make sure the staff is on board. But I think it might be a good idea for you to work with Gavin outside regular hours as much as possible. Maybe do some walking in the morning, using the pool late afternoon. You can have the place to yourself.”
She nodded, firmly deleting the image of Gavin wearing swim trunks, his muscular body wet and dripping. “That works. Pete wants him on the bench anyway, to get to know the guys and to understand their strategy. Whether he makes a full recovery or not, he is entitled to his privacy.”
“It’s going to be a challenge. Everyone today is walking around with a cellphone and can take pictures, videos, and access social media immediately. In the meantime, anything we do to keep him out of the limelight can only help.”
He returned to his work as Jessica picked up the clipboard with the program she was designing for Gavin. She could see why the reporter was interested in him: not only was he extremely talented, but he was smart and handsome, with a body to die for.
Her pulse quickened at the thought. And now she was going to be working with him for several hours every day, day after day.
Alone.
Dammit.
