Cold from the ice pack seeps into the side of my head. The stubborn ache reminds me how fast a pitch travels.
When I catch sight of my helmet, the piercing pop echoes in my ears once more. A shard of light runs across the earflap, highlighting the jagged line through the carbon fiber.
If the earflap wasn’t there, it could’ve been lights out for me.
As dramatic as it sounds, it’s true. Had I taken that ball to the temple without protection, I might’ve lost my life on the field tonight.
The thought is sobering, but instead of breaking down like my body begs to, I swallow the fear and force a smile onto my face.
“Got cleared a week ago, and now this? I think life is saying to chill.”
“And that’s exactly what you’re going to do.” Rio rests a hand on my shoulder. “It could’ve been so much worse, Owens. But you’re here, sitting up straight and talking normally. The win is that you’re okay. Nothing else matters.”
“Agreed.” Isla hands me two pills. “No NSAIDs, okay? Tylenol only. No screens. Not even your phone. Hydrate. And you can’t stay by yourself tonight. Sleeping is fine, but someone must be with you all night.”
Swallowing the pills dry, I shake my head. “I live alone.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Rio grunts. “Shay’s on her way. It took her a while to get in touch with your mom since she’s working, but your mother said you’ll be staying with her tonight.”
“Shay was busy. She didn’t need to—”
“I didn’t ask her to come,” he cuts in. “She was already driving when she called and demanded to know if you were okay.”
For the first time since the hit, my heartbeat seems to slow. I want her to be in control of what happens between us because her career is the onethat’s at risk, but I know the moment I see her, I’m going to want to hug her and never let go.
Now that the adrenaline is lessening, fatigue is creeping in fast. I want nothing more than to let sleep swallow me whole, but I know better. They need me upright and awake for a little longer while we play the game of patience.
And that’s okay. Could’ve been a hell of a lot worse.
“If your re-evaluation tomorrow morning goes well, we’ll discuss next steps.” A knock at the door distracts Rio. “By the way, before Shay called, we found out that someone picked up a will-call ticket for you tonight. Security went up and got them because we didn’t want you to be alone. They’re outside if you’re ready for a visitor.”
Will-call ticket? There’s only one person on that list.
When Rio clears his throat, I straighten. “Sure.”
Isla walks to the door. “Remember what I said, Cade. No being alone. No screens. No NSAIDs. And drink water like your life depends on it. I’ll come watch you if I need to. My husband would love to babysit a pro baseball player.”
She leaves the room with Rio on her heels, but my focus is on the man who looks like he hasn’t slept in days.
I haven’t seen Jimmy since the night Shay sneakily forced us to reunite at the batting cages. Before that, no words had been exchanged since I decided to work with Jon. I’ve sat outside of Slim Jim Batting for hours, running through the things I wanted to say to him. But every time, I’d go back home without saying a word.
The moment I try to stand, Jimmy hurries over and guides me back into the chair. “Stay seated. Do you have a concussion?”
I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak.
“Good.” With a gentle touch, he cups my face in his hands. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Cade. I was so damn worried.”
The tight coils at his temples are silver under the garish lights. His face looks weathered too. I always believed Jimmy wouldn’t age, but a lot has changed since I left for California.
One of my promises to Jimmy when I decided to play professionally was that he would always be my will-call ticket guest. I’d pay for my friends and family to come, but as the coach who changed my life, he deserved the one ticket.
But the ticket had never been used. Not until tonight.
“I hate that the first game you come to is the one where I take a ball to the head.”
Jimmy blinks hard. “You think this is the first game I’ve attended?”
“You’ve never picked up the ticket for you. Not once.”
