Page 68 of The Battery
“You’re making my heart beat faster,” I said with half-lidded eyes.
“I’ll text you,” he said. A soft kiss on my cheek, his lips lingering.
Then he was out the door, the smell of his cologne lingered in his wake like an amorous ghost.
*
The television in my new bedroom showed the Riders up by three runs against the Jacksonville Barracudas. The Floridians fought like hell, though. Those three runs came at a high cost. Rome had almost taken a fastball to the head if he wasn’t as quick as he was.
The announcers mentioned me from time to time and even showed some replays of the night I was hit. I, of course, had seen these replays dozens of times. I had no memory of waking up and the only knowledge I really had was the searing pain in my chest when I moved the wrong way. That and the Holter monitor. A wireless pad stickied over my chest that connected to a loaner smartphone they gave me. I wondered if they would be able to tell when, uh,certainthings occurred.
I stared down at my own phone. Leo had snapped a quick pic in the locker room before game time. I don’t know how he snuck it, but he was half naked and in the process of changing into his uniform. I passed the time by zooming up on the tattoos in search of a new spot for the fourth pennant. At least that’s what I told myself I was doing.
The Riders ended up losing at the end and I was half asleep when the game finished. The bed Leo had purchased for me really was comfortable. The temperature-regulated mattress cover used water circulating through coils to cool the bed. In the July heat, it was perfect, even with the AC going in the house. All the lights were off in the room save for the glare of the TV. My head was back, the bed at the right angle, and I was about to fall asleep when my phone chimed. Leo—letting me know he was on his way to the hotel and that he’d call shortly.
I ended up falling asleep in the short time it took him to get to his room. I tried slapping my face and clearing my throat—which hurt—to make it seem like I was still up.
I answered the video call. Leo popped up on my screen, shirtless and leaning back in his bed, one hand tucked behind his head. “How’s your pain?”
I reached to the bedside and rattled a bottle. “Dropping low now that I’ve taken my nighttime dose.”
He sucked at his teeth. “Shit. That means you’re falling asleep. I didn’t bother you, did I?”
“Oh, no.”
“Liar,” he said and shook his head. “I won’t keep you up, then.”
I didn’t want to argue that point. I truly was drifting to sleep, seemingly against my will. “Think of me when you go to sleep, okay?” I said drowsily.
“I do every night.”
“You do?”
He nodded. “I told you the only way I get to sleep…”
The swirl of drifting to sleep blocked the memory until I forced it through. Ah, yes. The hotel room. Leo, sprawled naked on a bed, touching himself while staring at me.
“The supply closet,” I said. “One of my favorites.”
“Oh yeah? Mine’s actually imaginary.”
I woke up a little at that. “Spill it.”
“Not in a million years. Get to sleep, Cody. I’ll text you in the morning.”
He hung up. That son of a bitch. I’d rage if it didn’t hurt too much. Shortly afterward, however, a received a photo from Leo. Perfect angle, great lighting. He must have leaned the phone against the lamp to snag the shot. He was on the bed, sprawled out, sheet covering the only spot that mattered, his muscles lean and taught as he flexed and looked at the camera like he wanted to do bad things to whoever saw him.
I stared at it until I couldn’t keep my eyes open.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Leo
For ten daysI played like every game would be my last. I collapsed into my hotel bed each night with such an exhaustion I might as well have been Cody rolling on his pain meds. I still made time to call him so we could go over the notebook I left him. He walked me through each day’s PT and tracked his progress. His breath had only made a minor improvement but was trackable all the same. I wanted to say things to make him giggle, but that action would make his chest bounce. As much as I wanted to see him laugh, I’d have to settle for his smile. Which was fine with me.
We returned to Ottawa for a three game series after the Barracudas in Jacksonville. At the end of that first game I had Cody on video chat. Lawson was there, a big stupid grin on his face while he and Cody chatted for fifteen minutes about his progress. By the end, he forced Cody into a promise to visit Ottawa in the offseason.
The team also joined when they could. By the second away game it had become something of a tradition. I’d call Cody up and flip the screen around so everyone could say hello and wish him well in his recovery. The skipper would make an appearance and, to my surprise, one of the Assholes, Shoji, even said hello.
