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Dad spun around from his place by the window. Lines of concern surrounded his eyes. Or maybe he hadn’t slept?
I looked down. Scratchy linens covered me up to my chest. My leg was propped up in a sling, and my shoulder throbbed like a bitch.
“Mama.” My voice didn’t sound like my own. It sounded as if I hadn’t spoken in days.
“Oh baby. How do you feel?”
Like crap.
“We won, right?” Had I dreamed the whole thing?
Her smile was sad as her eyes glassed over. “Yeah. You won.”
Dad stayed rooted by the window, his expression closed off.
“You’re awake?” My brother came in with two Styrofoam cups.
“Apparently.”
“Thought you’d be out longer after surgery. How bad does it hurt?” He pulled up the chair next to Mama.
“Pretty bad. Did the doctor say when I can get back on the field?” I wasn’t entirely sure how long I’d been in this hospital, but I couldn’t wait to get back on the mound.
Mama’s face fell. “Baby, they did all they could but—”
“A month? Six weeks?” Panic rose. That was an eternity. And what about my deal?
She shook her head and put a hand on mine. “I’m sorry.”
Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.
No.
Dad turned away, and my brother looked down at his feet.
No.
The future. My dreams. Shattered into a million shards that felt like I was being stabbed to a slow death.
I’d heard the tear when I slid home. But there had to be some way to fix the damage. Baseball couldn’t be over.
No.
A figure paused in the doorway. My angel. A semblance of relief at the sight of her penetrated through the pain and shock.
“We’ll give you a minute.” Mama stood, and the rest of my family followed her out of the room.
My angel leaned against the doorframe for support. She was perfect. Beautiful. Sweet. Her support was what I needed more than anything. Just like always, she was there. And as soon as I got out of there, we were getting married.
“I can’t do this.” The words were harsh with no remorse.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, sweetheart. I’m gonna be fine.” I wasn’t sure of that, but the need to reassure her outweighed all else. Together, we would be fine.
“You’renotgoing to be fine. You’ll never be a baseball player again.”
“We don’t know that—”
“I heard the doctors. Your career is over. The Rangers don’t want you. Neither do I.”
