Page 99 of Lucky 22

I just hope my lucky number turns out to be lucky for bothof us.

For both of our careers.

And everything that goes with it.

ChapterSeventeen

It’s starting to feel like Groundhog Dayagain.

And not in a cute rom-com way.

Spring training is over, and Christian’s hurt and notlistening to the doctors.

Honestly, I’m starting to spiral. Balance? Non-existent. Ican’t keep holding everything together for both of us. I can’t be a wife, anactress, an advocate, a therapist, and whatever other hats I need to wear at amoment’s notice.

Why can’t I just be a woman living a somewhat normal life?When will things calm down enough for us to breathe?

We’re back in St. Louis in our sparsely decorated apartment.I have to admit, I want to hang pictures or paint some walls, but why bother?It’s still just a temporary home, and this is the last year of his three-yeardeal. We might have to move again. It’s just easier to keep it simple. I thinkI’m finally coming to accept that. This is part of our lives until Christianretires. Right now, we have this place, my apartment in California, and ourroom at his parents’ house. And none of them are ours.

Not really.

I know my apartment is mine, but it’s mine andJen’s.

I remember Christian selling me on the move to St. Louis andhow we would finally have a place that was ours. Technically, that was true,but it was temporary. It wasn’t a place we could settle into and make our own.So, I’m choosing to look at this a little like a role when I’m on location.While I’m not living out of a suitcase—not really—it’s also not home. I neverrealized how much I missed having one until it was dangled in front of me andthen taken away.

Ugh…I really am dramatic.

On a positive note, I’m still flying back and forth to LA,recording more episodes of The Echo Wars. I am so in lovewith this series, and my character is developing in such a fun way that Ialways hate it when our sessions end. I leave wondering what will happen next.

I mean, I have the script, but I still want more. I want tosee it all come to life.

And that’s the other positive news. Ashla is being modeledafter me.

Me! Well, sort of.

Not only do they want me to use my own voice, humor, andpersonality for Ashla, but they also film my face during recording sessions,and the animators are using my facial expressions for the character. It’s allso surreal.

I told Christian about it, and while he was excited, he alsoseemed distracted. I don’t know why he thinks I can’t tell when he’s in pain.Either that or he’s simply pretending I don’t know, so we don’t have to talkabout it.

But he’s wrong.

After spending time with Jen, I know I need to startspeaking up more. I’ve gotten better about it, but there are still times when Iback down because I don’t want to argue—or, even worse, sound like a bully.

And how’s that for irony? The girl who has been bullied somuch in her life is acting like a bully now.

“I’m not a bully,” I murmur as I go into the kitchen tostart dinner. Christian will be home from the stadium in a little while, and welike to eat close to that time. It makes it easier for him to come home, eat,shower, and then relax for the rest of the night. Since his days are sometimeslong, and I’m not here often during the week, we cherish the times when we cancrawl into bed, watch TV, and talk quietly about our days.

It’s a nice way to end the day.

But when Christian walks in the door a little while later,my entire body tenses up. He’s limping and favoring his left side. Plus, he’swalking like he’s a hundred years old.

Frustrated, I take the pan of fried chicken off the burnerand go to him. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing. Just a hard game today,” he says wearilybefore slowly lowering himself onto the sofa. I hear the hiss of breath, seethe pained expression on his face, and it takes everything in me not to shakesome sense into him.

But at this point, I’d probably only injure him more.

“Christian…”