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I don’t know whether it was the fresh air, the wide-open space, or the lack of human contact, but being out here helped me see things more clearly. Podcasting had started as fun, but as the money rolled in, so did the pressure. Now that I was out of the game, it was all I had left, but for the first time, I was starting to question if it was enough.

I stepped out from under the tree canopy onto the ridge and took in the sight. Even though I found myself up here most days, it never failed to take my breath away. I could see for miles. With the mist still filling the valleys, everything looked untouched. An eagle circled, and I sat down and watched. The way it hovered, almost effortlessly on the breeze before dive bombing into the trees was majestic.

I opened my backpack, pulled out a granola bar, and bit a chunk off. It was flavorless and boring, but it filled the hole. After chugging down some water, I stood up, stretched my arms high above my head, and pushed on. I didn’t have time today to take my favorite loop, but if I got my ass moving, I’d at least be able to clock up a few miles.

By the time I was kicking off my boots on the front porch, my stomach was grumbling. Hiking on an empty stomach wasn’t the best idea I’d ever had, but the earlier call had thrown me off.

I headed inside and took a quick shower, needing to wash away the sweat before I opened the fridge and found some real food. Once I finished lunch, I cleaned up, tossed a load of washing in the machine, and wiped over the bathroom. I had a cleaner who came twice a week, but I was avoiding today, and the easiest way to avoid it was to stay busy.

Eventually, though, the monotonous tasks ran out, and I found myself in my studio. It was one of my favorite rooms in the house, but today it felt like the walls were closing in on me. I’d decked it out with the best money could buy, with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered views straight out across the mountains.

I dropped into my chair and took out my phone. Time to call in a favor.

Four hours later, I had a guest booked, a rough script outlined, and I started recording.

I’d promised they’d have it by lunchtime tomorrow, and I refused to miss that deadline. It was one thing to blow off the others, but I knew I was cutting it fine. Thankfully, Jack, a long-time friend and my old teammate, a left outfielder from my days playing for the Badgers, came through.

Chatting with him was easy. Throw in a couple of beers and a basket of wings, and it would’ve been like catching up in a bar anywhere in America. The only difference was that this time he was giving me shit on screen instead of in person. Despite my threats to disconnect the video call, he kept the teasing going, and soon enough, the episode was done.

I stopped recording, and we caught up on all the things that we didn’t want the world to know. How things were going with his estranged wife. How my shoulder really felt.

When he asked when I planned to reenter the world, it stung more than my shoulder had in weeks. It was one question I didn’t have an answer for.

“You don’t plan on hiding away on your mountain forever, do you?” he asked.

The idea had crossed my mind, I couldn’t lie. Quiet. Peaceful. No one asked me for anything. It definitely had an appeal.

“I don’t know. I’m just taking some time to figure shit out.”

“I get that,” Jack nodded knowingly, and I knew he really did understand. We’d been playing ball since before we grew hair on our balls. It was all we knew. It was who we were. Without it, well, that’s what I was trying to figure out.

“It’s not bad up here, you know,” I told him.

“You know Elena wouldn’t cope for a second without her coffee shop less than five minutes away,” Jack chuckled, but it was hollow.

There was a lot Elena wouldn’t cope without, and Jack wasn’t necessarily on that list. It was something they were working through for their son’s sake.

“Well, I’ve got a couple of guest rooms and a fully stocked bar if you’re ever out this way,” I tossed out in the way of an invitation.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He nodded. “Look, I gotta run.”

“No worries. Thanks for today. I owe you one,” I told him, knowing how true it was.

“Well, get that shoulder better and do yourself a favor …”

“What’s that?”

“Shave that shit off your face,” he boomed. “You look like a mountain man who hunts his own food and shits in the woods.”

I dragged my hand over my beard. Even though I’d already considered shaving it off, now that he’d called me out on it, I’d keep it a little longer.

“Nah, the chicks love it,” I lied.

I hadn’t had a woman in my bed since before my shoulder decided to give up on me, and the truth was, I hadn’t even thought about what I was missing, until …

“Yeah, I’m sure they do. The chicks probably have hair on their legs up there, too.”

I flipped him the bird.