My shoulder is absolutely dislocated.
I need to get to the ballpark. Today’s a rare summer day off—no baseball game—but the medical staff will still be in working with the players on the injured list. They can handle me too.
But I need to get dressed first.
And call a ride.
And figure out how to pay for the dress that definitely ripped while I was taking it off.
“Looks dislocated,” Duncan says.
He’d know.
Professional athletes see a lot of injuries.
Plus, he was there the last time my shoulder dislocated.
It’s the whole damn reason we called it quits on our secret fling.
I drop back against the mirrored wall, still cradling my dangling left arm and trying to convince myself it’s just a little strained muscle when I know that’s not the case at all.
Go get a new dress for the charity auction, Addie, I said to myself this morning.You have the whole day off to be a girl.
“What are you doing here?” I’m stalling while I catch my breath and contemplate the likelihood that I can get dressed on my own.
“Picking up a dress for my niece. Can you put your shoulder back in place, or do I need to get you to a doctor?”
“I’ve got this.”
He snorts.
I actively ignore him and order myself to quit feeling the pain in my left shoulder. To not remember how long it’ll take before I can use my arm fully again. To not wonder how difficult my job will be one-armed for the next few weeks. To not think about how I’ll be interviewing for the manager position with my arm in a sling.
Dammit.
I can’t put this back in place myself.
Correction: I know that Ishouldn’tput this back in place myself.
I tried the first time it happened.
It didn’t go well.
And he knows that because I told him so on our way to the hospital the last time it happened.
Heat and hurt and guilt that I cannot convince myself I shouldn’t feel gather in my chest.
I liked him.
I liked him more than I knew was safe. More than I knew was healthy for me.
I knew better than to like him as much as I did.
He did me a favor when he got mad after I refused his suggestion that we move in together so he could take care of me. He didn’t like that I didn’t want to define what we were and that I still didn’t want anyone I worked with to know we were hanging out, so he left my apartment telling me if I was so damn determined to do everything on my own, then fine, I could do everything without him.
Unfortunately, that favor came with a very sharp reminder that I’m not built for relationships, and all they do is cause pain.
Duncan grabs my pile of clothes off the small bench in the corner of the room. “You want your bra or not?”
