Inside Heat (19 page)

“Good morning, Mr. Holder. How are you doing this morning?”

“Like shit. How are you?” It was an unnecessary question. Her cheery attitude assured she was doing fine.

“I’m just dandy. Thanks for asking.” She pulled the IV shunt from his arm with all the compassion of an axe murderer. Jeff cursed a blue streak that earned him a scolding from Nurse Perky. “Save your cursing for the physical therapist.” She slapped a bandage on the puncture wound. “She’ll be here in a few minutes, and I guarantee you’ll want to use up your whole vocabulary on her.”

Just fucking peachy. “When do I get out of here?”

“Well, let’s see…after the physical therapist, there’s your doctor. As soon as he sees you and signs the release papers, you can go. That should be sometime after lunch.”

Jeff dropped his head back against the pillow and immediately regretted the sudden movement. “I’ve got a headache. Can I get some aspirin or something?”

“Oh look! Here’s your breakfast.” A woman slid a tray onto his bed-table and left without a word. His stomach growled as he remembered he hadn’t eaten in over twenty-four hours. The nurse rolled the tray into position and raised his bed to a sitting position. It felt good to be sitting up, but the shifting of his arms reminded him how useless they were. His right arm was in a brace, and his left wrist was bandaged.

“How the hell am I supposed to eat?”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Megan stood in the doorway smiling at him. Well, shit.

“I can do it myself,” he groused. He tried to pick up a toast point with his left hand, but only managed to drop it in his lap on the way to his mouth.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Megan said. She crossed the room and snagged the toast, returning it to the tray.

“I see the reinforcements are here.” The nurse removed her rubber gloves and headed for the door. “Enjoy your breakfast, Mr. Holder.”

“She’s a lively one,” Megan observed. Jeff managed a grunt before Megan continued. “And you look like hell. How are you doing?”

“I’m fucking fine. Can’t you tell?” He shrugged his shoulders to emphasize his sorry state. “How the hell am I supposed to function? I can’t even feed myself.”

“That won’t last long. You’ll have full use of your left hand soon.” She lifted a fork loaded with scrambled eggs to his lips as she spoke. Jeff opened his mouth and almost gagged on the cold, tasteless mess.

“No more! Christ, get me out of here before I starve.”

Megan held a piece of toast to his lips. “Here. Try this.”

He figured they couldn’t mess toast up too bad, so he bit off a piece and chewed. It was better than nothing, so he signaled with a nod for more. Megan brought it back to his lips for another bite.

“The bacon doesn’t look too bad,” she coaxed. Jeff managed to grunt his acceptance, but he’d had enough of being an invalid. He reached for a slice of bacon and pinched it between his thumb and forefinger. It wasn’t pretty but he got the whole thing in his mouth. His success was encouraging, so he did it again with the second slice, and followed with the toast.

“See? Better already,” she said.

“Coffee.”

Megan lifted the juice box to his lips instead. “Trust me. You don’t want that coffee. Have some juice and when you’re finished eating I’ll go down to the cafeteria and get you some coffee. They serve Starbucks down there.”

“I want to go home.”

“I know. And you will, soon. We’ll have you home in time to watch the game tonight.” He turned his head away as Megan held the juice box to his lips again.

“No more.”

“You have to eat, Jeff.”

“Not that, I don’t. Go get me some real food.” He needed to get her out of his room. Feeling helpless was one thing, but having to accept help from Megan, knowing she did it out of duty rather than love was enough to make him sick.

He breathed a sigh of relief when she grabbed her purse and stomped out the door. Really? What the hell did she have to be pissed about? He was the fucking idiot who couldn’t even feed himself. God help him if he had to take a piss.

His peace was short-lived as it turned out. Megan probably hadn’t made it to the elevator when a woman carrying a giant tote bag entered his room. Her jeans and T-shirt said she wasn’t a nurse – that meant she must be the physical therapist.

“Jeff Holder?”

“That’s me.”

“Hi!” She dropped the bag onto the visitor’s chair and stood by his bed. “I’m Stacey – your physical therapist. I’d shake hands,” she grinned a bright, all too cheery for the circumstances, grin, “but I doubt you’re ready for that.”

If that weren’t an understatement, he didn’t know what was. “No. I don’t think I’m ready for that. And since I can’t grip my own dick, I don’t see how physical therapy is going to do me much good today.” He had to give her credit. She didn’t take offense at his crude language. Her next words told him why.

Stacey-the-physical-therapist shifted her stance so one hip jutted out to the side. She placed her balled fist on that hip and glared down at him. “Look, Mr. Holder. You can use all the foul language you want during our sessions, but I won’t stand for it otherwise. I’ve heard it all before, and trust me, you’ll probably make up a few new curse words before you’re back on the field. I’m here to make sure you get back to work as soon as possible, but if you insist on insulting me, then your
dick
is going to need physical therapy before I’m through with you. Did I make myself perfectly clear?”

“You’re tougher than you look, aren’t you?”

“I’m tough enough to make you scream, Mr. Holder.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Stacey smiled at him again, but this time it looked more like a wolf smiling at the lamb who was about to be her dinner. “So, are you ready to begin?”

Apparently, that was a rhetorical question because she turned and dug in her bag, coming up with a red ball that resembled a clown nose. “Open your palm,” she stroked a finger down the length of his left forearm, stopping short of the bandage on the inside of his wrist. She was giving unnecessary orders. He could barely move his fingers without wanting to cry, much less make a fist. She dropped the ball into his palm. “Close your fingers around the ball. Lightly. You don’t have to squeeze it.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I assure you, I’m not.” Her hand slipped under his and before he could jerk away, she’d pressed his fingers into a loose fist around the ball. He yelped with pain and she let his fingers relax. “Now, do that four more times, then we’ll switch to your other hand.”

Sweat was pouring into his eyes by the time he finished the four finger curls, and she meant for him to do it again with his right hand. Christ, she wasn’t a wolf, she was the devil in disguise. He made an attempt at talking her out of a repeat performance, but she gave him no choice. One thing she was right about – he was coming up with a whole new vocabulary. Thinking up new curse words helped take his mind off the exercises, simple though they were.

When he finished five loose finger curls with his right hand, Stacey rewarded him by massaging both arms. She was packing up to leave when Megan returned with a bag from Whataburger that smelled like heaven. Jeff watched as the two women introduced themselves, sizing each other up as only women can do. It sounded as if they were going to become the best of friends, at his expense.

Stacey hoisted her bag back onto her shoulder and paused at the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow Mr. Holder. I’ll be at your house at ten in the morning. Be ready.” She took a step out the door and turned back to him. “Oh, and I bet you can hold your dick just fine now, so go ahead and take a piss.” She smiled that she-wolf smile of hers and left.

“What was that all about?” Megan asked.

Jeff tentatively tried to flex the fingers of his left hand, and was surprised at how easily they moved. He was able to make a fist, albeit, a loose one, but damned if she wasn’t right. He could take a left-handed piss all by himself.

Chapter Eighteen

Megan slammed the refrigerator door, wishing it made a more satisfactory sound than just a soft whoosh. Maybe she should strangle Jeff instead. That would certainly be satisfying. Ever since she’d driven him home from the hospital the previous afternoon, he’d been nothing but a pain in the ass. He complained about everything from the food she served him to the air temperature. He’d managed to have a shower and dress himself in sweatpants – no shirt – and now he was grousing because she hadn’t fixed eggs to go with his toast and bacon.

“What am I? A short order cook?” she mumbled to herself. If she didn’t know better, she’d think the surgeon had done a personality transplant, rather than an ulnar collateral ligament reconstruction. “I’ll scramble his eggs if he doesn’t snap out of this pretty damned quick.” She broke three eggs into the pan and whisked them around while adding a dash of milk. “He might be hurting but that’s no reason to treat me like shit.”

She slid the cooked eggs onto a plate, grabbed a fork from the flatware drawer, and headed into the bear’s den. Jeff had refused to come to the table in the kitchen, preferring to take his meal last night and this morning sitting in his favorite recliner in front of the television.

“Here.” The eggs nearly jumped off the plate as she dropped it unnecessarily hard onto the TV tray. “Anything else, your Highness?”

“No.”

She stood over him, trying to figure out where the reasonable man she knew and loved had gone. He ate the eggs left-handed, spilling more on the floor than he managed to get in his mouth. She was a compassionate person. Really she was. She dealt with scared kids, kids in all sorts of pain, day in and day out, so the sling holding Jeff’s injured arm against his chest should have made her feel guilty for her unkind thoughts. But Jeff Holder was being an ass, and that negated every bit of her compassion for his plight.

“You’re making a mess.”

“So? Clean it up.”

“I’m not the maid, Jeff Holder. I don’t know what happened to you in that operating room, but I’m not standing for it.”

“Then leave. Go back to work. I can take care of myself.”

Megan stared open-mouthed at him. None of this made sense. Jeff and Jason were both the biggest babies in the world about being sick. A cold would send them into a tizzy of helplessness, and she’d indulged their misery more than once, waiting on them hand and foot. So this stubborn, ungrateful attitude when Jeff was really, truly hurting defied all logic.

He continued to eat as if she weren’t there, standing two feet away, boring a hole through his skull with her anger. Megan stalked back to the kitchen. “It would serve him right if I went back to work and left him here to fend for himself,” she muttered as she cleaned up the breakfast mess. Maybe Jason could talk some sense into him when he got home. The Mustangs had lost the first game in the regional series. They’d play again today; then after a day off the series would continue at the Mustangs’ home stadium. That meant Jason would be home soon. “Not soon enough for me,” she said to the open dishwasher as she poured soap into the dispenser.

* * * *

Good God. Jeff ground his molars together and tried to imagine the pain in his elbow wasn’t there. It was stupid, of course. The pain wasn’t going to go away.

He flexed his fingers around the clown nose again. It was hopeless. He’d never be the same. Hell, he could barely hold a fucking clown nose without dropping it. How would he ever throw a baseball again? His career was over. Facing it now would be better than going through months of torture in hopes of changing the inevitable. Two weeks post-surgery and not a damned thing had changed, and if he had to hear Stacey’s cheery voice another minute he might not be held responsible for his actions.

“That’s it.” He allowed the ball to roll from his weak grip. It landed with a soft bounce and rolled across the tile floor of Jeff’s home gym. “I’m through.”

“Okay. I guess that’s enough for today. We’ve been pushing pretty hard.” Stacey bent to pick up the ball. “We’ll stop now and I can massage your arm before I go.”

“You don’t get it. I said I’m through. Not just for today. I’m done. Pack up your bag of torture devices and get the hell out of my house.”

“Mr. Holder – “

“No. I’ve had it. This is going nowhere.”

“It’s only been two weeks. Your arm is getting stronger every day. You can’t seriously want to quit now.”

Oh yeah he did. Having the surgery was one of the worst decisions he’d ever made. Looking back, he couldn’t even remember making the decision. One day he’d been pitching to McCree, and the next he was counting backwards from ten while the anesthesia took effect. Who had made the decision? Rand Evers, the Mustangs' trainer? Jason? Megan? It damned sure wasn’t his decision. But this was.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me. I said I’m done.”

“Okay, okay. I’m leaving. You’re making a big mistake. If you want to make it back on the roster by the All Star break, you don’t have a minute to waste.” Jeff breathed a sigh of relief as she headed to the door. She paused with her hand on the knob and turned. “Call me when you come to your senses.”

He had come to his senses. Two weeks and one surgery too late, but he’d done it. He waited until he heard Stacey’s car pull away from the house before he headed for the kitchen. Megan had gone back to work after only four days, and Jason was God-only-knew-where. Since the Mustangs crashed and burned in the Regional Championship Series, Jason had been scarce.

Jeff shoved things around in the refrigerator, cursing when his search for a beer fell short of the goal.
Fuck
. Not only was his career washed up, but his brother had stolen his woman, and the two of them had left him alone with not a single beer in the house. Life couldn’t get any fucking better than this.

A search of the kitchen cabinets netted a half-empty bottle of Kentucky’s finest. Judging from the looks of the curled up edges on the broken seal, the bottle was left over from some long ago gathering. So long ago, Jeff couldn’t remember ever seeing it. He shrugged his shoulders and took a swig out of the bottle. Bourbon improved with age – right? He took another swig to wash down the first. He found an open bag of pretzels in the pantry and with bottle tucked under his arm and the pretzel bag in his "good" hand, headed for the den and his favorite recliner.

* * * *

“Thanks for stopping by today.” Megan rested her elbows on the Formica tabletop in the hospital cafeteria and raised her coffee mug to her lips. “It means a lot to the kids.”

“No need to thank me. You know I enjoy meeting the kids.” Jason bit off a piece of the giant candy bar he purchased at the gas station on the way over. “I wish Jeff had come.”

“What are we going to do about him? This isn’t normal.”

“I haven’t got a clue. I was hoping you had some ideas.”

“I’ve never seen anything like this.” She shook her head in frustration. “The other day I suggested he see a sports psychologist and he almost bit my head off.”

“He was sitting in front of the television watching the Cartoon Network when I left, and if I’m not mistaken, he had another bottle tucked in the corner of his chair.” Jason washed another mouthful of chocolate and caramel down with a long draw from his soda bottle. “He can’t go on like this.”

“Have you tried to talk to him?”

“Yeah. He won’t listen to a thing I say.” He stared across the cafeteria, gathering his thoughts. “I used to know everything that went on in his head, because it was so much like what was going on in mine. But now…I don’t have a clue. The doctors have told him over and over that he needs to follow the regime, and if he does, he’ll be as good as new.” Jason studied the remains of his candy bar. “I don’t know. It’s as if…”

“What? As if…what?”

“It’s like he’s given up. I tell you, Megan. This isn’t like Jeff. Baseball…pitching…has been his entire focus since we were kids.” Megan sensed Jason had more to say so she waited while he took another drink of his soda. He set the bottle down on the tabletop and spun it around slowly between his thumb and forefinger. “When I was sick, Jeff would come visit me in the hospital every day. He’d do his homework and help me with my class work. When we were done, he’d talk to me about baseball. He was learning to pitch, and he’d show me how to hold the ball, and tell me what he was learning about how to read the batters and about how he was going to be the best pitcher the Major League had ever seen. He had me convinced I was going to be okay, and that one day I’d be his catcher, and we’d be famous.”

Jason paused to regain his composure. Megan slid her hand across the table to cover his, offering what comfort she could. If Jeff thought he was the only one suffering because of his injury, he had another think coming.

“He was right. He is the best, and he’s so damned proud of what you’ve accomplished.”

“That used to be true. I don’t know now. He’s changed.”

“He’s still there, Jason. We have to find a way to get to him. There’s more to this than just his injury, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out what it is. If we could figure it out, I’m sure we would find the solution.”

“I asked Stacey what happened the day he kicked her out.”

“What did she say?”

“Nothing. Nothing happened. He was doing his physical therapy, then he stopped and told her to get out and to not come back.”

“It doesn’t make any sense. Something had to have happened. He agreed to the surgery. The night before…well, everything was fine. We talked for a long time after…well, after. He was happy. Not about the surgery, but happy about the prospect of making it back after the All Star break next year. He knew the physical therapy was going to be rough, but he was committed to doing whatever it took to get back on the roster.”

“So, everything was good between the two of you?”

 Megan nodded. “As good, if not better than ever. The week before he blew out his elbow I was really beginning to think we had something special going.” She sipped her now tepid coffee before continuing. “I thought we were on the brink of becoming exclusive.”

“I thought the same thing. I saw it coming a long time ago. That’s why I’ve spent so much time away from the house in the last few months. Jeff loves you. Not that I don’t, but what you and Jeff have is more than you and I could ever have. I didn’t want to stand between you any longer. I take it that has changed too?”

“Yes. We haven’t been together since the night before his surgery. He might not be able to do much with his right arm in a brace, but…” Megan stared into her coffee cup. “I offered to…you know…help. He told me…”

“What?”

“He told me to go spread my legs for you.”

“He’s not going to have the opportunity to drink himself to death. I’m going to kill him myself.”

“No, Jason. Don’t. Don’t tell him I told you. It will only make things worse.”

“I’m not going to let the jackass talk to you that way.”

“Really, I’m fine. I’m over it.”

“You aren’t over it, and you aren’t fine. Jeff is being a first class asshole, and it’s time for it to end.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to go home and kick his sorry ass from here to kingdom come. That’s what I’m going to do. He can throw away his career if he wants to, but he’ll never find anyone who loves him more than you do. I’m not going to stand by and let him throw you away too.”

“Don’t do it, Jason. Please. Jeff is a grown man. If he wants me, he’ll come around on his own.”

“I’m not so sure about that. He doesn’t seem to be operating on all cylinders these days.”

“Enough about Jeff.” She really needed to change the subject before she started crying again. Since Jeff’s first day home following the surgery, she’d shed enough tears to overflow Lake Texhoma. “You’re seeing someone.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Well… Spill. Tell me everything. Who is she? Where did you meet her? Is she pretty?”

“She’s beautiful, and smart, and sexy, and that’s all I can say right now.”

“Why right now? She’s not married is she?”

“No. Nothing like that. It’s… well, if you knew who she was, you’d want to have her over to dinner or something, and now’s not a good time.”

“You can’t say something like that and expect me to just let it go. Tell me, Jason Holder, or I’ll put starch in your underwear next time I do the laundry.”

“You wouldn’t do that to me.” He flashed that crooked smile that always got him out of trouble with her. “I still intend to give my brother a piece of my mind. What we all had together has been over for a while, and that’s mainly because of his feelings for you.”

“I’m happy for you, Jason. I was afraid you’d be alone, and I don’t want that, and I’m sure Jeff doesn’t either. When he gets past this – whatever it is – he’ll tell you so. I know it.”

“You are the eternal optimist, Megan, and I love you for it. Sometimes, I wish things could have worked out between you and me, but I’m grateful for the time we had together. You know I love you, don’t you?”

“I know. I love you too, but it’s different with Jeff.”

“I know. Look, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say – ever since that night you came to the training room after Jeff blew out his elbow.”