Page 21 of Curveball

“No, not anytime soon, sweetie. Just Daddy is getting married.”

I was more than ready for this wedding to be over. It felt like a constant reminder of where my life stood—and how left behind I felt.

Chapter 10

Walker

"You played like ass yesterday," I grumbled through the phone.

"Well, hello to you too, sunshine," Cohen chuckled in reply to my not-so-warm greeting.

I’d watched the Aviators play New York on TV last night, and Cohen had missed a couple of key plays that would have likely won us the game. Unfortunately, my team lost 2-4. As much fun as I’d had fucking with Farrah the other night, my dark little storm cloud continued to take up residence over my head.

"Anyway," Cohen continued, ignoring my foul mood, "how's the elbow?"

I grunted in response.

"Dude. Cut the shit and stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’ll be back; it isn't a matter of if, but a matter of when. You need to get your shit together and focus, because we need you back on the mound. Period," Cohen all but growled in return.

As my best friend, he knew me well, and knew this type of behavior from me was not typical. "This bullshit bad mood behavior is very reminiscent of when you found out Farrah was engaged. Can we not go down that road again? You were destructive. Please tell me this is only about baseball and nothing else." I could hear the concern in his tone, but I wasn't sure how to ease his worry when this darkness that had taken over had everything to do with my elbow AND Farrah.

I blew out a breath. "I can't tell you that."

Cohen groaned. "Seriously, James? Farrah, again?" I imagined he was likely scrubbing a hand down his face in frustration.

"Yes. Farrah. Again. Not only did she open her business in my town, but my mom also hired her to renovate their tasting room. And to top it all off, now I get a front row seat to her dates."

"Shit. I'm sorry, man. Why don't you just stay at your place in Austin? I get you want Dr. Howard for rehab, but is it worth all of this? You could always just drive back and forth for your appointments."

"Nah, I need to be around my horses. I'll just hole up at my place, it's fine," I grumbled.

Cohen let out what sounded like an annoyed chuckle. "Yeah, because that's healthy. Listen, we have a couple of days off next month. Drake and I will drive out there."

I shook my head, as if Cohen could see me. "That's not necessary, Coh." I didn't want to drag my friends into my darkness. They had better things to do than come here, sit around, and try to cheer me up. I was a bit of a buzzkill at the moment.

"Sorry bro, but it definitely is necessary. We’ll see you in three weeks." Cohen immediately ended the call, denying me the chance to get in another word. Typical.

I lay my head back against my pillow and shut off the TV, done listening to the baseball highlights. It was one in the afternoon, and I still hadn't gotten out of bed for the day. I showed up to all my PT appointments, but let's just say I hadn't been a very good patient outside of them. Instead of rehabbing and working out at home as instructed, I’d been sleeping well into the afternoon, drinking pretty heavily in the evenings, and not crashing out until well after midnight. At least I still managed to drag myself to the barn to see my horses and my donkeys, since they were the only highlight of my day at this point in my life. My hair had gotten longer than usual, my beard thick, and I should probably have bathed more than I had been, but I just couldn't seem to fucking care. I knew I was spiraling, diving deeper into a dark hole, but again, I couldn't seem to care or stop myself.

I scrolled through the list of eighteen missed calls I'd accumulated over the past two days—four from Addison, three from Ava, two from Weston, three from my parents, two from Drake, two from Cohen, and two from Dean. I had about fifteen text messages I also chose to ignore. I reached into my nightstand drawer, grabbed the remote to draw down the blackout shades in my room, and let sleep take me yet again.

"Walk!" Bang. Bang. Bang. "Walker James! Open this goddamn door! Right now!" Bang. Bang. Bang.

At first, I thought the banging was inside my head, thundering against my skull, thanks to the handle of whiskey I’d polished off last night. But when I heard my sister's pissed-off shrieking echoing off the walls of my house, I realized the banging was both inside and outside of my head. I rubbed my hands over my eyes and glanced over at the clock beside me, seeing it was 11 a.m. already.

Not too bad, considering my ass stumbled into bed around 3 a.m.

The banging and yelling continued as I dragged myself down the hall towards the front door.

I barely got the door open before Addison barreled her way past me and into my house. "What the actual fuck, Walker!" Her green eyes were wild, and she tried really hard to get in my face, which was laughable considering I was six-four, and she was maybe five-seven.

Addison wrinkled her nose while looking me up and down with disgust. "You look like shit and smell even worse. Get in the shower and meet me in your kitchen in ten minutes. We need to talk."

Gotta love meddling sisters.

I didn't even respond. I didn't have the energy, my head hurt, and honestly, there was no point with her. So, I did as I was told—showered and sat my ass at the kitchen counter ten minutes later.

Addison stood across the kitchen island from me, hands pinned on her hips, a look of complete disappointment in her eyes. "What is going on with you? No one has been able to get a hold of you for the past week. The only reason we know you’re alive is that Theo has seen glimpses of you at the barn and Dad spoke to Dr. Howard." She placed her hands on the counter, waiting for my response.