Page 113 of Drop Three

I nod, feeling more emotional than I expected. “I love him to overflowing. Sometimes I think my heart fights to make room for the depth of it.”

Penelope nods with tears in her eyes. “Talk to Cal, then talk to Bodhi. Take the time you need to think it through. But promise me you’ll hear Bodhi out. I knew from the way he acted around you this morning that he loves you.”

My stomach drops. I’m fighting the feeling of overwhelming fear from rejection, the repercussions of putting myself out there again, and the hopefulness of Bodhi loving me like they claim he does.

Being happy—happy and blissfully in love.

With Bodhi.

It sounds like a distant dream. A dream I want to run away with and savor to the ends of the earth.

“Let’s hope so.”

My three friends wrap me in the warmth of their arms, reassuring me I’ll be okay, and I believe them.

My heart has been through hell this last year, preparing me for the profound love to come, the love I realize I’m worthy of.

I can only hope it’s with the beloved soul I chose.

33

BODHI

I can’t getout of the bathtub.

Jesus Christ.

We’ve been back to practicing for a whole two days and I already can’t move. My legs feel like a ton of bricks and my hamstrings are screaming.

Three months off from practicing and conditioning led me here.

Sore muscles scold me.

You’d think I spent the three months of the postseason sitting on my ass all day, but I didn’t. I’ve been in the gym every day, working on maintaining my strength, especially in my legs. Being a catcher requires hours upon hours of squatting and pressure on your knees.

If I don’t target-train those muscles, I’m fucked.

Spring training games start in a couple of weeks for the new season and Coach Leggins is running us into the ground. Usually, I’d love it.

Not today.

Gahhhh.I grunt loudly.

I don’t think I can move.

I place my hands on the sides of the tub, attempting to motivate myself and suffer through the agonizing ache to lift up.

I once heard that men are simply unable to lift themselves without support like women can. It’s a studied strength that men lack.

I can now confidently support that theory.

Maybe I should invest in a support bar to attach to the wall?

What am I, eighty?

“What happened? Oh my god, are you okay?”

My eyes bulge out of their sockets, embarrassment filling me at the vision of Navy standing before me…while I’m paralyzed and naked in the tub.

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