Page 85 of Lucky 22

Christian is leaving to meet the team in Houston, and I’mleaving for LA. We’re both smiling and giddy for our own personal reasons as wekiss goodbye at the airport.

“Break a leg, Ella Rose,” he says, and I know he means it.“You’ve got this. I believe in you.” He looks so handsome, and his blue eyesare sparkling again. He’s back in his element.

Unable to help myself, I giggle and smooth my hand over hischest. “Please don’t break anything while you’re gone,” I tease before kissinghim senseless. When I pull back, he’s grinning, so I know he didn’t takeoffense. “Good luck in Houston. But seriously, be careful.”

“I will. I promise. I’m feeling good, and I’ve got this.” Hecaresses my cheek. “Go and knock their socks off in Hollywood. This could beyour chance at an Oscar.”

I love his faith in me. As we go our separate ways in theterminal, I turn and watch him get swallowed by the crowd.

Please be safe. I love you.

ChapterFifteen

I don’t get the major motion picture role, but I landa part in a movie that is filming right in St. Louis.

Talk about fortuitous.

I’ll admit that it will be nice to be working so close tohome. No living out of a suitcase, and I get to sleep in my own bed every nightnext to Christian.

When he’s not on the road with the Archers, that is.

He’s playing, and the team is on the road to the WorldSeries, but since his last series of unfortunate injuries, he’s added a pulledhamstring and a strained shoulder to the list.

As much as I want to wrap him in bubble wrap and keep himfrom further hurting himself, the team is steadily climbing the ranks, andthere’s no way he’d agree to miss out on being part of the story.

So, I bite my tongue and do my best to be supportive.

Even though his body is literally being held together bytape. He’s usually wrapped up from his shoulder to his knee to keep thingsstable while he’s playing. When he gingerly climbs into bed beside me, I can’thelp but sigh.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Can I ask you something?”

He chuckles softly as he tries to get comfortable. “Are weanswering questions with questions now?”

“Christian…”

“Okay, okay. Sure. What’s up?”

“Is it worth it?”

His brows furrow a bit. “What do you mean? Is what worthit?”

I twist slightly so I can face him fully. “All of…this.” Imotion to where he’s usually all taped up. He doesn’t keep it ontwenty-four-seven, but I don’t know how he stands it. “The injuries, thephysical rehab, the constant wear and tear on your body, the pain, the tape…isit worth it?”

He doesn’t answer right away, and I know he’s truly givingthe question some thought.

“For most of my life, I was told I wasn’t good enough to bea Major League Baseball player,” he says, his voice a little somber and gruff.“I wasn’t big enough, I wasn’t fast enough, I wasn’t strong enough. If I hadlistened to the critics, I would have missed out on an amazing career.”

He picks up my hand and places it on his chest, right overhis heart.

“I’ve never been a quitter. All I need to be is just enough.You may look at all the injuries this season and wonder why I keep going, but Ilook at them as stumbling blocks. None of them is career-ending.”

“The concussion could have been,” I whisper, but I’m unableto meet his gaze. I almost feel guilty for saying it out loud.

“But it wasn’t. Looking back, yes, I should have taken itmore seriously, but I eventually got the rest I needed.”

“I know, but…”