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“Me?” What could I do for extreme confusion caused by a concussion? Yes, I said we shouldn’t panic, and I meant it, but he probably would need a CT and full workup of his head.
Beckett narrowed his eyes at me. “Yeah, you’re neck and shoulders. You should be there to work on the treatment plan. The way he’s cradling that left arm makes me think his head isn’t the only thing that needs to be addressed.”
He didn’t even wait for me to respond before turning to Cortney. “Once we deal with the press, we’ll meet them at the hospital.”
Great. That meant there was no escape for me.
Slowly, I forced my eyelids open, but the piercing light that immediately assaulted me had me snapping them shut again. The groan I let out was met by the sound of curtains being pulled shut. I tried the simple task once more, this time finding myself in a dimly lit room.
My general manager’s face came into view as I scanned my surroundings. High ceilings, hardwood floors, a stone fireplace, and thick molding. The place was old, probably built in the 1800s, but it had been restored to twenty-first-century perfection.
“Where am I?” I sat up on the oversized tan sectional, fighting a wave of dizziness as I did.
Cortney towered over me, crossing his arms over his Revs T-shirt. “My house.”
“Why?” A year ago, it wouldn’t have been weird to sleep on his couch. But a year ago, he was the team’s catcher. He had retired at the end of last season so he could spend more time with his pregnant fiancée. And because he was smart as hell and knew every stat for every player in the league, the Langfields had hired him and put him in the role of general manager. Technically, he was my super boss and could easily cut or trade me.
He sighed. “Your family’s across the country, and we couldn’t send you back to your apartment alone.”
Rubbing my aching head, I raised one brow at him. Because I couldn’t be alone, his first thought was to bring me to his house?
“Don’t look at me like that. I was at the hospital with you for hours.” His blond man bun bobbed as he shook his head. “I might be stuck in a suit most days, but I’m still the guy who wears shamrock socks to every game.”
When the memory of the day Cortney thought he’d lost his lucky socks floated into my mind, I couldn’t help but smile. That moment of panic for him was what led him to Dylan. But I hadn’t realized he still wore them so religiously. “Seriously?”
He shrugged. “Yep. They’re lucky.”
I chuckled and shook my head, but the moment I did, I wished I hadn’t. Even the slight moment sent pain shooting between my temples. Wincing, I closed my eyes. Cortney was talking about the doctor, physical therapy, waking every three hours, and what I thought was a comment about not staying by myself. I was trying to keep up, but I was finding it hard to grasp what he was saying.
“And don’t forget the sling for your arm.” He nodded at the square coffee table in front of me.
I frowned at the blue and white piece of fabric. “Seriously? My shoulder feels—” I lifted it and rolled, but instantly regretted it when another shot of pain hit me.
“Yeah, not great,” Cortney finished.
I slumped back, shutting my eyes again.
“Hey, Mason, you’re riding with me to the stadium,” a familiar female voice said.
I cracked one eye open, finding Cortney’s fiancée, Dylan, standing in the middle of the room, holding their baby girl.
“I have to be there at nine, and you’re meeting with Rory and the team doctor.”
Rory? Hmm. Rory, Rory. Nope. The name didn’t ring a bell.
Cortney sidled up beside Dylan and took the baby who had a full head of strawberry blond hair. She rested her cheek on her daddy’s massive shoulder as he rubbed her back. “I don’t know why I still have to ride with Beckett every day.”
Dylan’s laugh lit up the room so bright I had to close my eyes once again. “It’s just what the universe wants.”
“No. It’s what Beckett wants.”
Cortney and Beckett spent practically every waking minute together. Their wives were best friends, and their families lived in side-by-side brownstones. On top of all that, they worked together and carpooled to the office. I’d always assumed they got along, even if they bickered like an old married couple.
“Eh.” With a shrug, she lifted onto her toes and kissed him on the side of his neck. “You humor him because you love me. And we both love that he’s letting us open a branch of Little Fingers at Lang Field so Willow can be near you all day.” She dropped back down and turned to me. “Grab sunglasses. It’s bright out.”
Then she was gone, spinning on her bare feet and bouncing out of the room, all red curls and flowing white dress.
Cortney watched her the entire way, and when he turned back to me, he was sporting the kind of sappy smile that belonged to a guy in love.
