Page 7 of Love Beyond the Diamond

“I used to be a hockey player.”

“Lolo!” The blonde woman from earlier rushes into the room, all but jumping on the stretcher to give Willow a hug. “Are you okay?” Her head snaps toward the closest nurse. “Tell me she’s going to be okay.”

As her friend and nurse engage in a lively back and forth, I stand.

“I should…”

“You’re leaving?”

I don’t know what to do with the disappointment in Willow’s voice.

“It’s better this way. I was only going to use you for your body anyway.”

When her brows shoot up, I grimace.

“That’s not what I—” I rake a hand over my face. “This is why I don’t make jokes.”

Or rescue people. Or get involved.

Things are better if I stay in my lane—focusing on baseball.

A few beats pass before my mouth speaks without permission. “I’m glad you’re safe, Willow.”

What is with me tonight?

I should be giving her a curt nod and storming out of this room now that her friend is here, not…being honest.

“Thank you.”

Something about her wobbly voice makes me feel like an exposed nerve.

Gritting my teeth, I turn to leave, pausing at the doorway to add, “I’ll talk to registration on the way out and make sure the bill is sent to me.”

“I don’t want your blood money.”

Willow’s cheeky response on the heels of her transparent vulnerability almost makes me turn around just to see the smirk on her face.

“Too bad.” My own lips twitch, but I don’t let it show in my tone. “You’re getting it.”

I think I hear her friend ask, “Was that Shane Seaver from the Waves?” over Willow’s guffaw, but it doesn’t matter.

I’m never going to see Willow again.

Chapter 3

Willow

Aweek later, and I’ve really gotten the hang of this diabetes thing. Just kidding. I’m barely hanging on by the skin of my teeth. The overwhelm from thinking about every carbohydrate I consume is exhausting.

I grew up in a household where my mom would say things like, “Be sure you thank your feet for carrying you through the day,” and only wore makeup to church. Counting calories was not a part of my upbringing. She was more concerned that I was living a happy and fulfilled life than what size jeans I wore.

Though I’m eternally grateful for my grounded upbringing, it means I know nothing about nutritional values. For example, do you know a banana has twenty-seven grams of carbs? That’s almost as much as two slices of bread!

Maybe you do.

Maybe you were raised by an almond mom or are an athlete and keep track of your macros and how much protein you need for muscle growth.

Thinking of muscles, my mind automatically slips back to the memory of tight athletic shoulders as Shane walked out of my hospital room, his hands fisted at his sides as if leaving was difficult.