Chapter Eighteen
Chapter
Eighteen
I find Christian a specialist who can fix the tear in
his back. The doctor also tells us that the injuries Christian sustained in the
past are the reason he keeps getting injured. Essentially, his body never
healed after he tore his oblique, so his core remained weak. It’s the heart of
an athlete’s body. If your core isn’t stable, everything is out of whack.
I know it’s like that for everyone, but with professional
athletes, it’s crucial.
Several Archers players were injured this season, and the
team did not make the playoffs. A losing season is not how Christian wanted his
time in St. Louis to end. His three-year contract is up, and they don’t offer
him a new one.
It happens just as I finish recording season one of The
Echo Wars, so it’s hard to celebrate a career high when my husband’s
career is at stake.
All I can say is that, right now, the wheels are coming off.
I have a pit in my stomach because of baseball, and I can’t
bask in the afterglow of finishing my first season as Ashla. So many things
will start happening now, and I want to be a part of it all. I want to focus
fully on every minute of this project being introduced to the public. But how
can I enjoy any of it when Christian’s a free agent again, and I have no idea
where we’ll have to move to next?
We’re sitting in bed with the TV on, but I can feel the
defeat coming off him in waves. He’s quiet in a way that has weight. My heart
aches for him—for the years he’s poured into this and the identity that’s been
wrapped so tightly around the game.
But beneath the sadness, there’s another feeling I don’t
quite know what to do with. Relief. Not because I wanted this for him, but
because his body has been asking for rest for a long time. Maybe now, it will
finally be heard. Maybe now he can heal without rushing, without pain
pushed aside for the sake of staying in the lineup.
Loving him means balancing both truths at once—grieving the
loss of what this moment means to him while quietly hoping it gives him the
space to mend. I snuggle closer, placing a soft kiss on his chest. This is my
favorite part of our day, wrapped around each other, all cozy and relaxed. Soft
touches and even softer sighs. But tonight, all of that is laced with sadness,
as well.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He shrugs. “My agent said he’s already putting feelers out.
But let’s face it, who’s going to want a player who can barely play?”
Rock? Meet hard place.
I’m completely torn. Of course, I support Christian and his
desire to keep playing. But what if no one signs him? As much as it pains me, I
know that’s the only way to protect his body so it can heal. It will kill him
if no one picks him up, but I fear it will literally kill him if they do.
“What about taking a season off?” I suggest and then hold my
breath.
“That’s not how things work,” he says miserably. “If I were
younger, and it were a manageable injury, maybe. But if word gets out about all
the things that are wrong with me, no one’s going to wait. I’ll be another year
older and definitely past my prime.”
“Okay, so then maybe…”
“Don’t, Ella Rose. Just…don’t. You don’t understand. I want
to go out on my own terms, and I know I still have more in me. I can do this.”
I’m on the verge of letting him believe that, but I can’t.
“This is a safe space, right?” I ask, and he looks at me
curiously. “I mean…we don’t lie to each other, and we can say what we need to
if our hearts are in the right place, right?”
He nods, but I can already tell he’s bracing for whatever
I’m going to say. His entire body tenses, and I know I need to tread carefully.
Twisting, I face him, take both of his hands in mine, and
kiss them. “I love you so much, Christian Lucas. From the moment we met, I knew
you were my person. You are my best friend, my husband, my greatest love, and
my teammate.”
He smiles at that last one.
“What if this is the universe’s way of telling you it’s time
to step back? Time to retire. Can you live with that?”
Christian is quiet but mimics my earlier move, grabbing my
hands and kissing them. “Of course, I can live with that. You are my world,
Ella Rose, and I’ll still have you. Baseball is just my job. I don’t know what
the next step is. I have no idea whether any team will want me. But if one
does, we will make it work as we have for the last five years. We’ll sit down
with the schedules and…”
“I know,” I whisper. “We’ll make it work.”
Once again…same song, different verse.
But I’m the only one who hears it.
I’m just so worried about him.
We sit in companionable silence, maneuvering until we’re
shoulder to shoulder, watching the TV again. I’m not even focused on what’s on.
My mind’s still reeling with all the what-ifs. All the ways things can go
wrong. What if he gets another concussion? The doctors said that it could have
life-altering effects. So many scenarios race through my mind.
Christian laughs at something happening on the show we’re
watching, and when he turns his head and looks at me, I know he can tell I’m
distracted.
He shifts again, kissing my shoulder before resting his head
there, something he knows I love.
“So, when this series comes out, are you going to dress up
like your character?” he asks. “Like…how alien-like are you? Enormous eyes?
Tentacles? Will I have to hold the tentacles when we walk the red carpet?”
It’s the most ridiculous conversation ever, but it has the
desired effect. I’m laughing. And then we’re kissing.
And then it’s just the two of us—no TV, no baseball, and no
aliens.
The quiet is filled with tender kisses, gentle caresses, and
a promise that no matter what happens, we’ll always have each other.
Just the way it should be.
“We’re going to Toronto!”
Rolling over, I blink Christian into focus. “Um…what?” I ask
around a yawn.
He looks happier than he has in weeks, and I know I’m going
to need some coffee to have this conversation.
Pushing my hair from my face, I sit up. “Toronto? As
in…Canada?”
As if reading my mind, a cup of coffee suddenly appears in
front of me when he gingerly sits down on the bed beside me. “I know it’s not
ideal, and it’s only a one-year contract, but at least I’ll be playing.”
Yay.
Or not. I have so many questions, my head is spinning.
“I’m thinking we might fly up to Toronto next week so I can
meet with the team, and we can look at apartments. The good news is that we can
plan accordingly. We know this is a one-year commitment. The Skyhawks are a
good team, but they haven’t made the playoffs in a couple of years, and I know
I can help them.”
“I know you will,” I say, so many thoughts racing through my
brain. Christian makes every team he plays on better, but moving to Canada is a
whole different ballgame that I had not even considered.
“I love you, Ella Rose, and I know we’ll make this work,” he
says with a boyish grin.
I take a sip of my coffee.
“So, uh…you accepted the deal?”
“I did.” He doesn’t look at me as he says it, and there’s a
sadness in his voice. “No other offers were coming in. It was either take the
contract or not play.”
We sit in complete silence. My mind is in overdrive.
Selfishly, I had already allowed myself to dream of our life if he retired. I
never fully let my mind go there, but with no offers coming in, I began to
daydream about what a “normal” life might look like with a healthy husband. And
I liked it.
Now, I sit silently,
grieving the new life that was within my grasp, while also coming to terms with
the fact that we are moving to a different country. Am I even allowed to work
in Canada? I know you need a work visa to be an actor there. I have so
many questions.
Finally, Christian breaks the silence, “Ella Rose, I
couldn’t go out like that. I just couldn’t. To go from an MVP to a has-been
that no one wants? I just couldn’t do it. I want to leave the game on my terms.
I hope you understand.”
I don’t want to, but of course, I do.
“Please understand that I am just completely overwhelmed at
the moment, and I don’t know what to think,” I say quietly. “We’ll go to
Toronto, we’ll meet with the team, we’ll find a place to live, and of course,
we’ll make it work,” I say, sounding exhausted. How am I going to balance
everything now? This might break me.
Sipping my coffee, my thoughts remain in total turmoil.
Another move. Another team. Another city.
Another chance for my husband to get hurt.
How am I supposed to sit in the stands and cheer for that?
“I have a surprise for you,” he says, interrupting my
thoughts.
A mirthless laugh is my first response. “I think you’ve
surprised me enough for one morning, Christian.”
Laughing softly, he nods. “Okay. I deserve that. But I
thought that since we’re already planning to move back to Florida temporarily,
maybe we should book a stay at Wonder Land.”
I study him hard for a moment. “Say more things like that.”
He grins. “I already have it booked. We’ll go directly there
from Toronto. One week, just us, no family or friends. Just you and me and
seven glorious days at The Grand Brightwater.”
Maybe I’m weak, but I’m loving that he thought up all of
that on his own.
“I’ve booked spa treatments, dinner at some of our favorite
restaurants, and a fireworks cruise. Remember how we never got to do that the
last time? Well, I made sure it was included in the itinerary. So? What do you
say? Am I forgiven? Maybe a little?”
“Christian…”
“Look, I get it. I’m making life complicated right now. I’m
being stubborn—your words, not mine,” he adds with a wink. “I’m not ready to
let go of the dream.”
That’s the one that gets me every time.
He playfully nudges my shoulder, mindful of the coffee in my
hands. “And I still get to be number twenty-two. That’s a good thing, right?
It’s still your lucky number.”
“I guess. I just wish it were lucky enough to protect you
from getting any more injuries.”
“Okay, but now we know why I keep getting injured. Once I
rehab my core, things will improve.”
“Let’s hope…”
Toronto is a lovely city.
At least, from what I’ve seen of it.