Page 66 of Wild Card

“I mean, that used to be my dream.” He shrugged like it was nothing. “But then Dad died, and I got hurt. I just…I don’t know, I guess I just set those dreams aside while I make sure my mom doesn’t lose her house.”

My eyebrows caved as I thought over what he’d said, my heart aching to help.

“Is she pretty far behind, or what’s going on with it?” I hoped it wasn’t rude to pry, but I had to know.

His tense jaw told me maybe I had overstepped with my questioning.

“It just all went to hell after Dad’s funeral, and the medical costs…we got hit by bill after bill, and instead of selling, my mom just let them bury her.”

I understood that. Grief was too painful all on its own; add in having to give up the last piece of you that felt like the person you lost, and it would be too much at once.

“It’s only been a year?” I carefully asked, softening my tone. I’d lost my mother at ten and had years to acclimate to her absence, but it still hurt.

Decker nodded. “A little over.”

Suddenly he stood, grabbing his garbage, effectively ending our conversation.

“You done with this?” he asked kindly, like we were just going to push past the topic. I knew he needed to, so I smiled and let him take our things, all while secretly wishing there was a way I could ease some of his burden and he’d trust me enough to let me.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Didyou grab me any donuts from that one spot?” Marcus asked while wiping his face and neck with a towel. He’d just run eight miles and was curious about donuts. He would be my best friend for that reason alone, aside from being a kickass roommate and all around decent human.

I pulled the small bag out of my bag and tossed it over to him.

“Sweet.”

He chewed a few bites while I tried not to shift uncomfortably. The school gym was shitty in comparison to our team workout facility, but sometimes it was just easier to pop in over here versus driving across campus. Marcus and I had both been given special release to live outside of the team house. He’d never told me exactly what provisions he was allowed to leave on, saying it wasn’t his story to tell, but I was grateful to have a roommate who understood the pressures of being on that team.

“So, how did the appointment go?”

I resisted the urge to run my hands through my hair and let out an annoyed sigh. My day had been fucking long as ever.

“Good. Really good actually.”

“Will they let her refinance?” he asked hesitantly.

I nodded my head. “It almost seemed like they weren’t going to at first, but I don’t know. Someone made a call and an assessor is going out to the house next week, but they gave her the green light.” It felt like a burden had been lifted from my shoulders. I knew it didn’t fix all the problems, but it was a step in the right direction. “Either way it will buy her time. I’ll be graduated by then, and I can move back home, maybe take up Dad’s landscaping business.”

I considered again the idea of doing that instead of pursuing something that might make me more money, or even baseball. But I’d been injured for over a year, so there were no scouts looking at me; I’d be lucky to land in Triple-A ball, if anything, but I wasn’t sure that was even something I wanted anymore. The more I thought of taking over my dad’s business and settling down, the more calm I became. That had to point toward something, right?

Marcus shook his head, snapping his jaw closed. “You don’t want to do that, man. I know it. I hate that you’re just accepting that you can’t play ball. How did your last physical therapy appointment go?”

I let out a heavy sigh, feeling a little too mothered by him. “It went fine.” I was on the cusp of being completely finished with therapy appointments. Just a few more months.

“Does he think you can play professionally?” Marcus sounded hopeful, and if I had been a better friend, I’d have felt happy in that hope. I’d have been grateful for a friend who cared about me the way he did. I also wouldn’t have lied to him.

I shrugged, hands deep in my pockets. “They said it’s too soon to tell.”

The way his head lowered and the pensive look on his face told me he didn’t believe me.

“What about your other therapist?” He grabbed his water bottle and took a large drink, keeping his calculating gaze on me.

He knew I wasn’t telling my therapist shit. Why even bother asking?

“Good…yeah.” I nodded. “Real good.”

“So, you talked to your therapist about the game then?”

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