“So you felt free to give it to him,” Liz said with a smirk.
Alicia sighed. “I did. And before I could blink Garrett said he wanted me assigned to him. Just me. I thought I was going to get fired, and instead, I’m in charge of his recovery.”
Jenna sat up and crossed her legs over each other. “Wow. That’s big. Are you feeling intimidated?”
This was why she needed her girls. They knew exactly how she felt. “More than intimidated. I’m scared to death.”
“You can handle this, Alicia,” Tara said as she lifted Sam over her shoulder and rubbed his back. “You know what you’re doing.”
“Tara’s right.” Liz squeezed her hand. “We’ve talked about this. You went into this field because it’s all you ever wanted to do. You love sports and medicine. This is your shot to do something monumental. Rehabbing Garrett and being successful at it could be a huge step in your career.”
She looked at all of them. “What if I screw this up? Garrett is their number one pitcher.”
“You won’t screw it up,” Tara said, smiling when Sam let out a tiny burp. “You know what you’re doing. This is what you’ve trained for.”
“Tara’s right,” Jenna said. “You’re going to get Garrett’s shoulder in shape and get him back on the pitcher’s mound.”
Liz nodded. “Have some faith in yourself. And go kick his ass.”
THREE
MONDAY DAWNED OVERCAST, SPITTING SNOWFLAKES and promising a big-ass storm later in the day.
These were the kinds of days that caused Garrett’s shoulder to ache like a son of a bitch. So when he arrived at the team practice facility early, he was happy to see Alicia already there.
She had her digital notebook in hand, her hair pulled back in its customary ponytail, and she was wearing that hideous uniform everyone from the sports medicine team wore. No makeup, very plain, except she wasn’t plain. How had he not noticed her before? Caught up in his own misery, probably, because Alicia was pretty. There was something about her that made him see through the ugly uniform and lack of makeup.
Maybe it was the promise she’d made to help him pitch again. But it was more than that, because he also liked the sparkle in her eyes—it reminded him of the sky in the summer. And her mouth—he really liked her mouth, especially when she smiled. He wanted to see her smile more. He’d bet she was gorgeous when she smiled. It didn’t hurt that she was pretty, and not all made-up and dressed like she wanted to be taken out to lunch or shopping like the women he usually hung out with.
She came to meet him when he pushed through the door.
“Good morning. Are you ready for this?” she asked.
“I’m stiff, I’m sore, and my shoulder hates this weather.”
She nodded. “Don’t worry. We’ll put some heat on it to warm you up first, then we’ll get to work.”
He followed her to one of the private rooms.
“Take off your jacket and get comfortable on the table. I’ll go get a heating pad. If you brought some music with you, you can get that started.”
He had brought his MP3 player, and it was obvious Alicia wasn’t going to have a conversation with him. Usually, he and the guys would shoot the shit for about an hour then do some therapy. This was going to be different.
He tucked in his earbuds and turned on some music. Alicia came back and put hot pads on his shoulder, then turned down the lights and left the room without a word.
Fine. Whatever. He didn’t need her to be his best friend. The heat felt good, so he settled in, closed his eyes, and immersed himself in the music.
The ten minutes passed too fast. He could have gone to sleep, but she pulled the pads off, leaving him chilled. He grabbed his jacket, but she stopped him.
“You won’t need that right now. Come with me.”
She took him into the workout room and sat him down on the arm bike.
“This will get you warmed up. I’ll be back shortly.”
She set the time for five minutes and walked away.
Again.
Wasn’t this fun? At least the TV was on, set to sports news. He pedaled away and caught up on sports, but he also watched Alicia out of the corner of his eye. She went into the office, chatted with Phil and Max. They looked over whatever she had in her electronic notebook. There was a lot of nodding going on. Talking about him, no doubt.
When his bell rang, she was right there next to him.
“Ready?” she asked as he climbed off the bike.
“I’ve been ready.”
“Good. Come over here.”
She led him to the doorway.
“Reach your arms to the top of the beam,” she said.
He turned to her. “What?”
“Lift your arms up, straight overhead. Touch the overhead.”
He did. His left arm went up just fine, but he winced when he straightened the right. And he wasn’t straightening it as easily as the left arm.
“It’s just a stretch, nothing too strenuous. Keep it up there and try to straighten your right arm, keeping your arm as close to your ear as you can.”
She stood behind him, silently watching.
“See anything?”
“Yes. Now, drop your arms, shake them out for a few seconds, and do it again.”
He gave her a look over his shoulder. “This doesn’t seem to accomplish anything.”
“That’s why you’re the pitcher and I’m the therapist. Do it again, and hold for a count of ten each time.”
He shrugged but reached for the top of the doorway again.
She had him do it five more times. By the last time, it felt like his form was much better. She came up behind him and grasped his shoulders, pushing against the muscles and tendons.
“Right side feels tight,” he said.
“Of course it feels tight. You don’t move enough. You don’t stretch enough. The more you keep your arm immobile, the more scar tissue forms. That’s half your problem.”
He turned to face her. “And the other half is?”
She tapped the side of her head. “You thinking that your career is over. And because of it, you don’t do your home exercises like you should. And because you don’t do your home exercises like you should, your shoulder isn’t healing. Self-fulfilling prophecy and all that.”