Detours & Booby Traps

Prologue Mateo

She's worried about me, I can hear it in her voice. And it gets worse every time she calls—which is daily since my injury. I can't blame her. I'm worried about me too. A torn ACL is not the way I planned to go out. And now I'm trying to adjust to life without baseball earlier than expected.

"Just come home, Mateo," Mom says. "You wouldn't need to hire help. Between me and Dad and Addie, we can help you."

It's not the worst idea.

I haven't been home for an extended period of time in ages.

"There must be qualified knee surgeons here, I bet your dad knows someone."

My doorbell rings, and I stand from the couch with effort. The doctor gave me crutches to use when I'm sore, but I've been trying not to.

"I'll think about it," I say. "But I gotta go, my physical therapist is here."

"Maybe Dad or I could come stay with you for a few weeks. At least you'd have someone to pick you up from surgery," she says.

"I hired a driver, and besides it's your busy season."

"See, if you were home, you wouldn't need to hire someone. One of us could be there for you. I hate that you're all alone there."

"Gee, thanks."

"I know, I'm sorry. But it would be nice to have you home, again."

"I'll think about it. Love you, Mom."

"Love you, too."

I let my physical therapist in. Duncan came recommended by the team doctor, but so far, I don't really care for him. It's nice that he comes to me, but the dude is kind of a dick. I try to make jokes to chat him up but they always fall flat. Strictly work, this guy.

"Mr. Hayes," he says in greeting.

"Mateo, please," I say. "How many times are we going to go over this Duncan?"

"Every Tuesday and Thursday, Mr. Hayes."

Duncan spends the next hour torturing me. I'm so sore by the time he's gone that I dig the crutches out of my coat closet and swallow a handful of ibuprofen.

Sinking back into the couch, I pull up the calendar app on my phone. I've got some publicity campaign thing with the team this afternoon. Although, I'm not sure why they need me. Besides two club events in a few weeks, the only thing on my calendar for the foreseeable future is Duncan.

Yippee.

I'm supposed to be in St. Barts in two months. It was a retirement trip for myself. Two weeks of sunshine and relaxation. So much for that. My damn knee fucked it all up. Now I'll be here with the TV remote and Duncan.

Maybe Mom's right, maybe going home is a good idea, because she's right about one thing…

I'm all alone.