“Who’s this?” asked Elise. She had her head cocked to the side and was staring at Natalie.
Brayden had forgotten she was there. “Oh, I’m sorry. This is Natalie. She’s a nurse at the hospital and a friend. She offered to help me get home today.”
Elise’s eyebrows sprang up. “I’ll bet she did.” She gave Natalie a cool smile and offered her hand. “I’m Elise Smith. This is Doctor Burningham. We’re going to take over Brayden’s post-op recovery.”
Natalie’s eyes widened. “Oh, I’m not here as a nurse. I’m here as a friend. And as a friend, I’m going to take his bag inside and help him get settled.” She patted his duffel bag hanging over her shoulder.
Mrs. Wolfe stepped forward. “Well, isn’t that kind of you. But don’t be silly. Let these guys be gentlemen.” She reached for the bag and took it out of Natalie’s hands, passing it to Coach before the woman had a chance to protest. “Brayden’s a Redrock, and we take care of our own.”
Brayden swallowed the thickness in his throat. By all accounts, he should be on the short list for contract cancellation. Yet here was the owner, expressly stating that he was still a member of the team. Wait … He glanced at Doc. Did they know something he didn’t know? Was there hope for his arm? Would he be able to throw again? He stood a little taller at the idea. If he could just get back on the mound and be a contributing part of the team, then he’d be able to propose to Tilly and give her everything he’d promised.
Brayden could swear Coach was trying not to laugh as he headed for the front door, keeping his face turned away from Natalie. Elise’s face was smooth with smugness. She flipped around so fast, her red ponytail whipped Natalie’s arm. It was almost as if she thought Natalie was after something more than the rewards of a kind deed.
Brayden stared after them, trying to work out what was going on. They didn’t have a reason to dislike Natalie. She’d been a friend to him when he needed someone to lean on. She wasn’t doing any of this for money, and she hadn’t outright flirted with him in days. Then again, it was hard for athletes to trust people—there was always the question of whether they liked you or your fame more. Maybe there was a little of that going on here.
Doc took Brayden’s arm. “Come on, son. Let’s get you inside and out of this heat.”
Brayden wouldn’t have admitted it, but he was drained. He shouldn’t be. All he’d done was get dressed in shorts with an elastic waist and go for a car ride. He should be ready to hit the cages, run drills, throw a bullpen. He should be pacing like a caged animal. Instead, his feet were as heavy as a bucket of balls and just as coordinated.
“Thanks for the ride,” he said to Natalie.
She glanced at Mrs. Wolfe, a sliver of fear in her eyes. He didn’t know why; Mrs. Wolfe was one of the nicest owners on the planet.
“I really appreciate it,” he added, hoping to dispel some of the mistrust. Natalie hadn’t once acted like a fangirl. She was professional with a dash of friendliness.
Emboldened by his words, she stepped forward and handed him a slip of paper. “Call me if you need anything. I’d be happy to help you with some of the basics until you’re back into a routine.”
He took the paper, and her other hand grasped his. His eyes darted to Tilly’s house. She wouldn’t blink at the interaction. Fans put their arms around him for pictures and touched his hands all the time. But this felt different, like he was letting Tilly down because he allowed the contact.
Natalie leaned closer. “I’ve enjoyed getting to know you.”
Doc cleared his throat, not relinquishing Brayden’s arm or backing away.
Natalie dropped his hand like it was a metal bat that had been left outside in the August heat. Her cheeks flushed.
Brayden tucked the card into his pocket. “Thanks. I’ll let you know.”
The three of them—he, Doc, and Mrs. Wolfe—walked slowly into the house. It was strange not to be able to look down at his feet as he climbed the steps. He relied on muscle memory and was grateful for the familiar surroundings. His couch with the foldout bed. His one recliner, which was big enough for him and Tilly to cuddle in as long as Tilly was halfway on his lap. Man, he loved that chair.
“Is she gone?” Elise asked Mrs. Wolfe.
Mrs. Wolfe nodded sagely.
“She’s a friend.” Brayden felt the need to clarify to defend himself.
Elise lifted her nose in the air as she rearranged the throw pillows around on the couch. “Sit here. I’m going to work on your shoulders for a couple minutes, and then I’m headed over to see Tilly. She needs to move even if it doesn’t feel good.”
“That doesn’t make me want to sit there.”
“Sit,” urged Doc. “She’s been ordered to take it easy on you.”
Elise cracked her knuckles.
Brayden eyed Doc, telling him that he was trusting him. Doc chuckled and took the seat next to the pillow throne. Coach took the recliner, and Mrs. Wolfe perched on the armrest. Coach’s arm floated around her. The movement was natural, like he had done it a thousand times and had no inclination of ever stopping.
Elise laid a palm on his back to indicate that she was about to start the massage. He sucked in, tensing. The PT at the hospital had been … insistent. He had no idea what post-trauma massage was supposed to feel like, but the motto on the guy’s shirt was “No pain, no gain.” That pretty much summed up Brayden’s experience with him.
Elise kept the pressure light, waiting for him to soften. When it clicked that she wasn’t a threat, he released his breath and his shoulders lowered. She moved to press deeper into his trapezius, and he felt days’ worth of pressure slipping away. “She deserves a raise,” he said to Mrs. Wolfe.
