Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
He nodded, and that time, I for sure heard his teeth clattering.
When I stood to get out, I had never seen anyone move so fast. He practically stood and jumped out of the damn tub.
“Christ!” he said as he shivered. “That’s fucking cold.”
I glanced at the clock. I still had some time before I had to meet with Trent. Nick had been in the hot tub and was making his way over to me.
“So?” he asked once Caleb had thanked me again and headed out.
“Not here.”
“Fuck,” he mumbled. “That bad?”
I gave him a look that silently repeated I wasn’t going to talk about it.
Once we had changed, Nick looked in my direction. I nodded, grabbed my bag, and we headed to one of the meeting rooms. Once we found an empty one, we stepped inside, and Nick shut the door.
“Well?”
“Lewis is pressuring me to tell Trent. He thinks I might have torn something, but he’s hoping it’s just inflamed, and maybe a couple of weeks off will help.”
Nick’s eyes went wide. “Shit, they’re not going to like that. Their star pitcher out for a few weeks?”
“What else can I do? Lewis won’t let it go, and when he rotated my arm today, I nearly came off the fucking table.”
“Do you think you have more than one tear?” Nick asked.
I sighed as I pushed my hand through my hair. “I’m not sure. Feels like it.”
He shook his head. “Fuck. I told you weeks ago you needed to do something about your arm, Bryson. You wouldn’t listen to me and kept saying it would be fine. Now you might have done some real damage. Just because you’re only twenty-eight doesn’t mean you can’t get injured. Hell, age doesn’t give a shit at all when you use your arm daily like you do.”
Closing my eyes, I sat down in a chair. “I know. I thought I would work it out.”
“Didn’t work out too well, did it?”
“It might be nothing, Nick. Stop jumping down my throat. You don’t think I know how serious this could be? It’s my fucking career. I know what it means.”
A strange feeling came over me after the words came out of my mouth. Would it be so bad if it meant the end of my career? I had always planned to play as long as I could or until they took me off the roster. I’d be damned if I finished out my career as a washed-up ball player. Maybe I could go out on top. The thought gave me pause.
Nick stopped pacing and faced me. “Even if you need surgery, you can rehab it and come back.”
I nodded and decided not to share my revelation with my best friend. At least, not yet. My mind was all over the place, and I wasn’t sure if my willingness to walk away from baseball was because Loren had told me what Rose had said. She could never be with me because of what I did for a living and how much sacrifice it would take on her part to be together.
“Do you want me to go with you and talk to Trent?”
Narrowing my eyes, I glared at him. “I’m not five fucking years old.”
“I know that. I was only offering. I can’t imagine he’ll take it well that you’ve had an issue with your arm for so long and kept it to yourself.”
“That’s my problem, not yours.”
Nick sighed.
I grabbed my bag. “Might as well not put it off any longer.”
As I headed toward the door, Nick called out to me.
“Good luck, Bryson.”
With one more glance back at him, I gave him a weak smile and replied, “I think I’m going to need it.”
Trent stood and stared out the window for so long I started to wonder if he forgot I was in the room.
“Did you want me to come back later?” I asked as I stood to leave.
“You need to get an MRI as soon as possible. I want to know what is wrong with your arm before we play the Pirates.”
“Wait, you don’t want me pitching against the Athletics?”
He finally turned and faced me. “No. If it’s just inflamed, then the three nights off will do you good. I’ll make the call right now. Head on over, and they’ll be ready to do the MRI.”
A part of me wanted to argue. If I got the MRI, then I’d know for sure what was wrong, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to find out.
Trent cleared his throat, and I looked up at him. He frowned.
“You think it’s torn?”
All I could do was nod.
His hand sliced through his hair as he said, “Fuck.”
Walking over to his phone, he picked it up. “I need to schedule an MRI on Robinson’s right shoulder and arm ASAP. I’m sending him over now.”
That was my cue to leave. I reached down and picked up my bag and headed out of Trent’s office. He didn’t utter another word to me, but before I closed the door, I heard him telling his assistant to get Josh Hart on the line. Josh was the Mariner’s manager. I imagined it wouldn’t be long before the owners were brought up to date and decisions were made.