Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
“You can give me five more, Damien.”
Fuck that. My leg throbbed and sweat covered my brow. Every fiber of my being fought against my physical therapist’s command, wanting nothing more than to slink back into my bed and sleep away the rest of the day.
But worse than the pain? The fucking shame that covered me like a second skin.
Chase, our team’s physical therapist, stood in my guest bedroom, staring as I laid out on the floor.
The room had transformed over the past couple of weeks, going from an extra bedroom to a home gym designed for my recovery.
Mats lined the floor, resistance bands hung from the wall—there was even a set of parallel bars sitting on the other side of the room.
Not that I’d gotten there yet.
No, I was still working on basic fucking functions, like lifting my damn leg off the ground and putting slight weight on my knee.
Last month, I would have pushed through these exercises without a thought.
I pushed my body to the brink daily, running the bases and hitting a ball at almost 90 miles per hour.
The knowledge of how far I’d fallen almost hurt more than the actual injury.
Knowing what I’d been capable of—the limited mobility I had now—filled me with rage.
With a scoff, I dropped my leg back to the floor. “I’m fucking tapped, man.”
Chase sighed as he moved to my side. He dropped beside me, helping me to sit up. “You’re getting there, Damien.”
“Right,” I said sardonically. “Can’t lift my leg more than an inch. Real fucking victory there.”
“Healing takes time,” he said, not for the first time. In the three weeks since my surgery, he’d reminded me of it every step of the way and celebrated even the smallest of victories. His energy was infectious, but it wasn’t enough to push through the clouds shrouding my mind.
The little progress wasn’t enough.
It’d never be enough to get me back on the field, back to playing ball at a professional level, in time.
Weber and the rest of management stood by me during my recovery, but a player at my age, with an injury like this?
They were just waiting for me to call it, to tell them I was stepping into retirement.
The end had always been on the horizon, especially as my muscles fatigued more after every season.
But this injury had opened my eyes, made me realize I wasn’t ready to call it, though I might not have a choice.
I itched to get back on the field, wishing more than anything to be back with my team, help them gain another victory.
Since I got injured, I hadn’t even been able to watch a game, too fucking angry to see them out there without me.
“Have you thought about telling your family more about your recovery?” Chase said as he put the resistance bands away.
I grimaced, unsure what to say. I’d flown home the week after the surgery with Chase by my side but hadn’t bothered to tell everyone I was back.
In fact, in the weeks since my injury, I’d barely talked to any of my friends.
As much as they wanted to help, their pitying stares and empty reassurances only made me angrier.
No, it was easier to keep everyone away, at least until I could face them without bitterness overwhelming me. The guys all gave me space.
Mari and Angie came around every couple of days to check in and help me tidy up around the house.
They’d even brought the girls around a few times.
My family tried to lift my spirits, tried to tell me how far I‘d already come. But their hope was like an anchor around my neck, reminding me how far I’d fallen.
And then, there was Brianna.
Her last text sat on my phone, waiting for a response, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
I couldn’t show her this new version of myself.
She’d liked me because I was strong, because I’d helped to lift her up when her world seemed like it was crumbling.
To bring her down into my darkness was a step back, like I was dragging her into this pit with me after all the progress she’d made. No way I’d ever do that.
I loved her too much for that.
Every day, I woke up and reached out, hoping I’d imagined the past month, that she was in the bed next to me.
When my fingers stretched and found her space empty, the disappointment dragged me right back to that hospital room, after I told her I needed space.
Her hazel eyes were filled with so much hurt, I almost pulled the words right back.
An ache ripped through my chest, and it had only grown bigger each day.
But despite the pain, I refused to drag her down with me.
Chase leaned down, helping me get back into my knee brace, and held out his hand.
Another thing I couldn’t fucking do on my own: get up off my damn floor.
After he helped me lower into a chair, he rubbed the back of his neck.
“You should think about it, Damien. Check out the research on recovery. Having people in your corner, having that support you need? It’s going to make the entire process a lot more manageable. ”
I just grunted, unable to voice my fears aloud. Luckily, a knock came from the door of my apartment. “Get that, would you?”
Chase just nodded, not sparing a second glance my way. He was getting frustrated? Join the fucking club. My hands clenched; I hated that this was my life. I slammed my palm against the arm of the chair, needing that jolt of pain to feel anything other than the throbbing of my knee.
“Shit, D. What the hell did that chair do to you?”
My head popped up, finding my former teammate, Jace, standing in the doorway with a smirk on his face. A duffel bag hung from his shoulder, and he’d dressed casually, like he’d just popped by after hitting the gym. I cleared my throat. “What are you doing here, Lyons?”
“Checking on your grumpy ass.” He smirked. “Seda and Drobrek called, told me you’ve been hiding out, keeping Chase captive.” He stepped inside the room, pausing when he got close to me. “It smells like the damn locker room in here.”
“Yeah, fucking leg raises almost knocked me out. Pretty pathetic, right?”
“Three weeks after major surgery? That sounds like progress to me.”
“Right.” I scoffed. “That’s what Chase keeps telling me.”
When I finally looked over at Jace, I sucked in a sharp breath.
It’d been months since we’d stood in the same room, and the time had been good to him.
He’d put on weight, looking more like when he first joined the team.
That lingering tiredness was gone from his eyes, replaced by the same cocky smile.
I shook my head. “Still haven’t said what you’re doing here.”
“I’m here to help,” Jace said, dropping his bag in the doorway and taking a seat on the floor across from me. “You want to get better? I’m here to make sure that happens. Might not have a degree, but I’ve been through enough PT to know how to do basic stretches.”
“Got Chase for that.”
“You and I both know the team needs him more.” Jace leaned forward. “Besides, even if Chase was here all day, he’d never get to the real problem.”
I shook my head. “What about your team?”
“Our season’s over, so I’m off for a bit. Told them I needed to go visit some old friends.”
“Well, as good as it is to see you, I don’t need a babysitter. Tell Seda and Drobrek to fuck off, would you?”
I huffed, pushing myself out of the chair and grabbing my crutches to stabilize me. Before I got too far, Jace stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “Get out of my way, Jace.”
“Nope.”
I cursed under my breath. “Jace, just fucking move. I don’t need this shit. Get out of my way.”
“No,” Jace said, more sternly this time. “When my world fell apart, you were the only one who stood by my side, the one who forced me to take a hard look at my life. Without you, fuck, I don’t know where I’d be right now. So, no. I’m not going anywhere, D.”
All the bravado poured out of me as I stared up at my friend, not knowing how much I needed someone before this moment. As the fight left me, I lowered myself back to the chair and dropped my head into my hands, letting my crutches fall to the floor.
“I don’t know how to do this.” The quiet admission broke something in me, something I’d barely had the strength to admit to anyone but myself. “Baseball’s been my life for so long, and now, it’s just gone. In one moment, I lost everything, and there’s a chance I may never get it back.”
Jace leaned forward. “I get it, man. I know it’s not the same, but when I got cut from the team, it put me in a dark place, like I’d fucked up my one chance, and I’d spend the rest of my life chasing that high.
” He shook his head. “But it took leaving to realize it’s only a part of my life. It can’t define the whole thing.”
“How did you do it?” I asked. “How did you move on from the game, knowing you had a lot more left to play?”
“I didn’t.” Jace shrugged. “I just embraced that I needed more outside of it, learned to turn off the noise and focus on the parts of it I enjoyed, left the rest behind me.” He shifted forward, forcing me to meet his eyes.
“You’ve always been a killer out on the field, D.
The legend who never gave up. And now, you’re going to let one setback fuck everything up?
Let this injury decide you’re done?” He smirked. “Not my captain, oh captain.”
“Swear, if you quote that fucking movie, I’m walking out this room.”
“Like to see you try, man.” He pulled my crutches away. “And that movie is a classic.”
“It’s depressing as shit.”
“Maybe, but it’s also true. So you need to decide, D. Are you going to let this injury kick you in the dirt and stay down? Or are you going to fight like hell?”
I sighed, pulling my hair back from my face.
He made it sound so easy, like this fight was just something I could easily overcome.
Sure, I’d made progress in the week since I’d been home, but every step was almost microscopic.
By the time I got better enough to walk out on the field, would the team even want me?
Or would I be just another relic pulled off the reserve list for sentimental reasons?
Jace shook his head. “I can already see the gears turning in your head, convincing you not to fight. If that’s the case, I’ll get out of here. Don’t need to get sucked into some male version of Gray Gardens.”
Despite myself, I grinner. “Fuck, man. When did you become the insightful one? Last time you were here, you tried to sleep with half the women in the city, convinced you were some kind of sex god.”
Jace's smile dropped away, and he shuffled on the floor. “Started talking to someone after I went back down to the minors. I’d never get back to the team if I couldn’t get my head right. There’s still a lot to unpack, but it’s helping me look at everything differently.”
My throat caught at his admission, knowing how much it took to get Jace to admit that.
When I suggested therapy last year, he shut me down, refusing to even think about spilling his problems to a stranger.
But the man in front of me was a far cry from the one who’d left our clubhouse without a look back.
It might not have seemed like it at the time, but going back down to the minors had been the best thing to happen to Jace.
And it might be time I took his advice.
“If I promise to stop being a dick to Chase, can I have my crutches back?”
“Not yet,” Jace said. “First, you’re going to tell me all about the girl Seda and Drobrek warned me about, and then you’re going to explain how badly you fucked that up.”