Page 54 of Knox
Our bullpen gave up a leadoff double, and then a single brought in the run. We managed to get out of the top of the inning without the other team scoring any more runs, but everything just felt off.
We were down two, and we’d overcome a deficit like that before, but luck wasn’t on our side. All three batters struck out, and no one spoke as we headed back to the locker room.
I didn’t bother changing or showering; instead, I went straight to the trainer’s room.
The door was cracked a few inches, and I nudged it open the rest of the way. Crew sat on the padded table, cradling his injured hand close to his body. I hovered near the doorway until he looked up.
“It’s not broken,” he said before I could ask him anything. “At least the X-ray didn’t show anything.”
“Then what are we thinking?” I stepped farther into the room.
“He needs an MRI,” Reynolds explained. “But we need to wait for the swelling to go down a bit.”
“Could be ligament or tendon damage or just a bad sprain, but we need to get a better look before I’m cleared,” Crew added.
I rested my hand on his knee. “So what now?”
“We’re scheduling him for an MRI tomorrow afternoon,” Reynolds replied. “Until then, ice, ibuprofen, and rest. Not much else to do.”
I nodded. “Okay. I’m going to go change, and then we can head home.”
By the timeI’d showered and changed, most of the guys had already left. The few teammates who were still around asked about Crew’s status, but I didn’t have any answers beyond the vague update the team would likely send out in a press release in the morning.
I grabbed Crew’s stuff along with mine, and we left out the side door from the trainer’s room. I dug the keys out of his bag and climbed into the driver’s side of his truck while he slid into the passenger seat.
I kept glancing over as we drove through the city, but didn’t say much because everything that came to mind sounded meaningless.
Once we got inside, he went straight for the freezer and grabbed an ice pack, holding it to his hand as he sank into the couch. I dropped our bags, kicked off my shoes, and joined him.
“I hate this,” he finally muttered, his eyes glued to the ceiling. “It’s not even like it was an amazing play that I got hurt on. Just a routine dive back to the bag. Something I do almost every game.”
“That throw came in hot. You just landed wrong.”
He huffed. “No kidding. My fingers feel like they’re going to explode. They’re throbbing like hell.”
“Want me to get you some Advil?” I started to stand, but he stopped me with his good hand.
“No. I took some right before we left the stadium.” His voice softened. “Just sit with me.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes before he finally said, “I should probably text Mallory with an update. I checked my phone while waiting for the X-ray results and saw she’d texted me after I left the field.”
“Was Grady worried?”
He shook his head. “She said they told him everything was okay, and he bought it. The ice cream they got him before taking him home probably helped too.”
I smiled. “Too bad ice cream doesn’t work for adults like it does for kids.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I’d love a scoop of chocolate fudge to distract me from everything right now.”
“Well, we don’t have any ice cream.” I turned slightly, curling one leg underneath me. “But what do you say to a different kind of distraction?”
His eyes met mine. “What kind are we talking about?”
I reached over and cupped the back of his neck. “The kind where you don’t have to think for a while. Just enjoy.”
“My hand’s fucked.”
“I wasn’t planning on using your hand.” I trailed kisses down his throat.
