“Yes, ma’am.”
She stands and gives my shoulder a squeeze before taking off. I hit the shower for a quick rinse and head out for poker night, feeling a little bit lighter.
Chapter 15
Jordan
Davis looks at me over the table, then back down at his cards before folding. “This might be my last hand,” he says, rubbing a palm over his eyes. Poor guy is exhausted. “I still have billing paperwork to finish tonight, and I wanted to return some emails before it gets too late.”
Once or twice a month we sit around at Rodriguez’s place and play cards with a few guys on the current team, and sometimes—like tonight—an old teammate will drop in. Clark Davis was the Blue Crabs’ shortstop before Mike. There’s been a ton of turnover in that position. Now Davis runs a hauling business that’s taking off faster than anyone could have expected. Who knew so many people were willing to pay someone else to clean out their old junk?
“Sounds like it’s going well,” I offer, adjusting the ice pack on my arm. “You must be bringing in a lot of clients if you have all that to do.”
“It is, but I think I need to bring on some staff. It’s getting to be too much for me to handle on my own. I hired a few teenagers to help get that busted-up fridge out of Edna’s kitchen last week, but it’s getting to the point where I need to consider more permanent help.”
“I can confirm, bringing in a partner for the art studio was the best decision I’ve ever made,” Jake says, laying his cards face down on the table. “I fold.”
“Yeah? I raise.” I push a short stack of red chips toward the center of the table.
Davis nods. “Yeah, maybe I should look for some help.”
“I call,” Rodriguez says, sliding his chips into the pot.
We show our cards, and his three kings beat my two pair. While Rodriguez collects his winnings, we turn our attention to the TV. The Foxhounds game is starting, so we take a break to watch our buddy’s new team play the Orioles for a bit.
There’s an uncomfortable feeling in my chest when Mike’s face briefly flashes across the screen. I’m proud of my friend, but it also sucks to know it will never be my face up there. Mostly, though, it stings to know I’m thinking about walking away from the game that saved me. When my relationship with my mom started to crumble and Coach Carver stepped up, baseball gave me a lifeline. The game’s been the best friend I ever had. And someday soon I’m going to turn my back on it.
Davis gets up to leave, and I nod toward the balcony. “Before you go, can we step out for a minute?”
“Sure,” he answers me, cautiously. His forehead creases, but he nods and follows me outside. “Everything okay?”
I sigh and scratch at my beard, looking back through the sliding glass doors, where I can see my teammates taking turns tossing cheese puffs in the air and trying to catch them in their mouths. “Actually, never mind. Maybe I shouldn’t do this here. We can have this conversation another time.”
He looks concerned. “Nah. Now you’ve got me curious. Talk to me, man.”
“I guess I have two main things I wanted to ask.” I tug at a loose piece of thread on the hem of my shirt. Maybe I should’ve prepared for this. It feels awkward to wing it.
“Shoot.”
“The first one is how did you know you were ready for retirement?”
He blinks. “Wow. Okay. Not where I thought this was going. I thought you were going to tell me you were short on cash and ask me to spot you for the next round. Or maybe tell me you needed me to look at a rash or something. I really thought we were about to playis this jock itch or an STI?”
“Why the hell would I come to you for that?”
“You’d be surprised how many guys ask. But it seems like the kind of thing you’d go to Miller with, seeing how tight you two have always been. Plus, with your whole celibacy thing, I’m surprised. I mean, how did you even get it?” Davis eyes my crotch suspiciously.
“I didn’t! There’s no rash! You made it up.” I throw my hands up, exasperated.
Rodriguez misses the cheese puff he’s going for and glances in our direction as he searches for his lost snack.
Not wanting to bring any more attention to myself, I tone my voice down and repeat, “I don’t have a rash.”
“If you say so. Why are you asking about retirement? Does this mean you’re thinking about hanging it up?”
I shrug, then give a small nod. “I think I have to. It’s the elbow. I’m not bouncing back the way I used to.”
With a sigh, he cups my shoulder. “I get it. There comes a point when you just know. For me, it was when I realized the whole team played better when Miller was on the field and I took a seat on the bench.”
