Page 67 of The Battery
I shot of fear lanced through me. I had no doubt Leo would work to get me in fighting condition. But… what if all this happened again? What if another return struck me in the chest again?
I shoved the fear aside. Focused on Leo.
“You have me,” I said. “Or, I should say youwill.”
“Before, I just took what I wanted from you. This time, let me earn it. All right?”
I looked away for a moment. “You already earned it. You don’t need to prove anything.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. ButIneed to prove it to myself, at least.”
I shook my head. “Don’t carry the weight of the world. It’s just me.”
He unlaced our fingers so he could lean forward and cup my cheek. “That’s exactly my point.” He stood so I didn’t have a chance to respond. “Let’s go through your medication protocol. I want to get everything set up on the kitchen counter before I leave and then make sure you’re all set. PT comes tomorrow. They gave you exercises to do in the meantime, right?”
“Right.”
“Good. We’ll go over those and then I need to head out to the stadium.” I had been openly staring, which caused him to falter. “What?” Leo asked.
My phone dinged in my pocket from an incoming text. “Nothing,” I said. A second ding. “You’re a machine.” A third. Fourth… fifth.
“Your moms,” Leo said, not needing me to confirm.
Leo pulled his phone out of his pocket and turned on the camera. Pointed it at me. “Smile as best you can.”
“What? Wait, why?”
Click.
I wasn’t smiling. More like giving a confused look. In seconds, Leo’s phone chimed rapidly as his thumbs danced over the screen. My eyes widened.
“Do you… Leo, do you have my moms’ numbers?”
“Yup,” he said as he continued to fire off texts, likely in response to them. “Do you know how easy it is to bond with strangers over a…” He fumbled. He probably wanted to say “loved one,” and we both weren’t there.Yet.He cleared his throat and continued, “Over someone you care about? Besides, they asked me to let them know when you were settled. Come on, let’s go downstairs.”
We went over everything that Leo indicated, all of it with rote efficiency. He had presented me with a new notebook, this one a handcrafted, leather-bound journal where he wrote out everything that would be required of me. He had spent my three days in the ICU penning out a schedule after speaking with doctors and the physical therapist. August would be spent getting back into shape and breathing right, September would be attending games but not playing, and then actually playing in a few minor league games at the end of the month. Then, October. I would be back, and with a vengeance.
The dreaded hour approached and Leo asked if I needed help getting back upstairs. After what felt like five solid minutes of argument, he relented and made me promise him that I would keep my phone on me at all times and would call for help when needed. My sincere promise to do so seemed to placate him.
I walked with him to the mudroom that led into the garage. He was already running late but the plane wasn’t leaving without him.
“Be sure to watch tonight,” he said. “Now that you’ve lived through it, I want to hear your objective opinion when watching on the screen. There can be—”
“Leo,” I interrupted. “Stop rambling. You’re gonna be late.”
“Right,” he said. He had a duffel bag slung over one shoulder and was dressed in more appropriate shorts and a shirt. He’d change to a suit once he reached the stadium, where they would leave from. “Right,” he repeated. He turned to walk to the door that would bring him to the garage. Reached it. Stopped. “Look, I know I said—”
“You give the best hugs,” I said carefully. “Nobody said we gotta be making out.”
He unslung the duffel and came to me cautiously. I couldn’t lift my arms to sling around his neck, so he delicately placed his right hand at the nape of my neck and he pulled me in so we were at least close. Any amount of pressure anywhere north of my waistline would be excruciating, even in the lightest circumstance. He dropped his face in the nook of my neck. I felt heat rise in my body. His hand caressed my face as he planted a soft kiss on my cheek. The new stubble he sported in place of the beard tickled. I loved it.
“Text me when you can?” I said and tried to keep the desperation from my voice. He’d be on the road for the next ten days. It felt like it would be a month.
His other hand cupped the other side of my face. Both were on me now. That gaze of his, like he could see what lie behind the physical and into something ethereal.
“You’ll be okay,” he said. That was for him, I realized. It wasn’t a question or a statement to me. It was him, reassuring himself that I would be fine while he was gone.
This man. We had gone from hot and heavy trysts to cold showers, to… what was this now? The building of something strong?
