LUKE WAS already driving before he realized he didn’t have Malone’s address, but a call to a team assistant proved effective. He pulled in to the driveway of the stucco, beachside house and barely had the truck in Park before he was out the door.
He’d thought about beating Malone’s ass as soon as he’d gotten into the truck, but he’d calmed down enough since then to realize that wasn’t going to do anything but hurt his career. And Malone had already done enough of that. But he owed it to Maria to get Jessica out of Malone’s place before the police and the press arrived. As disappointed as he was in Jessica’s role in all this, she was a kid, manipulated by a creep.
He took the short set of stairs in a flying leap and rang the doorbell over and over. Then he started pounding on the door until it flew open. Malone stood there in no shirt, bare feet and jeans. “What are you doing here, Winter?”
“I know everything. The letters. The planted drugs. Everything, you son of a bitch. And you know what? It’s between you and me—I want Jessica out of here.” Her car wasn’t in the driveway, but Noah had said she was here, and Luke believed him.
Malone made a wacko motion at the side of his head and whistled. “You are truly going off the deep end. Losing it big-time, Luke.”
“Jessica!” Luke yelled, and then refocused on Malone. “I want her out of this. It’s between you and me, let’s leave it that way.”
“Luke?”
“Jessica,” he called. “It’s time to go home. Get your things.”
Malone tried to shut the door. Luke caught it with his hand and foot. “She’s leaving,” he said. “You’re a pathetic man. Using a kid like this.” He raised his voice. “Come on, Jessica! You’re going home.”
“She’s not going anywhere with you,” Malone said. “Get lost, Luke. Inject your steroids or whatever you need to do to get through the day.”
“Let me by, Carl!” Jessica said. “Let me by. Luke…I’m sorry, Luke. I…I… Let me pass, Carl!”
Luke and Malone glared at each other. “Let her go, Malone.” Malone looked as if he was going to refuse, but suddenly jerked back and opened the door.
Jessica raced toward Luke. “Go to the truck,” he ordered brusquely, right as Noah pulled his rented sedan to a skidding halt in the driveway, shoved open the door and got out.
“Everything okay, Luke?” Noah shouted.
Luke eyed the doorway. Malone had disappeared inside. He turned to address Noah. “I’m taking Jessica home before the police get here,” he called a moment before a blast hit his back as Malone rammed him from behind in a powerful burst of force that sent him tumbling down the concrete stairs in a roll. He bounced down on his right side, his pitching arm underneath him. Pain exploded along his shoulder, through his arm, and he heard the bone snap a moment before his head hit the pavement and he blacked out.
***
KATIE ARRIVED at Malone’s place to find two police cars and an ambulance at the front of the house. Nausea rushed over her, fear tightening her chest. Luke. She knew that ambulance was for Luke. Her mind was spinning, fingers going numb. Dizzy with her reaction, she still managed to thrust the car door open—not even bothering to shut it behind her—and started to run toward the ambulance.
Noah greeted her halfway there.
“It’s Luke, isn’t it?” she demanded, grabbing his arm for support. She could not lose Luke, too. She couldn’t.
“He has a concussion, and he broke his arm,” he said. “His pitching arm, Katie. It’s a bad break.”
He was alive. “But he’s okay,” she confirmed. “He’s going to be okay?”
“You might have a hard time convincing him of that,” Noah said. “But yes.”
Katie would convince him he was okay. He was alive, and he was going to stay that way. That was what mattered. She started running, rounding the back of the ambulance right before they shut the door, barely blinking at the sight of Malone in cuffs standing next to one of the police cars.
She brought the back of the ambulance into focus. “Luke!” He was on the gurney, his arm splinted, his head bandaged.
“Katie,” he whispered, and tried to sit up.
The EMT pressed him back down. “Don’t move.” The worker motioned her forward.
Katie rushed inside and sat beside him, on the opposite side of the bed from the emergency worker. She touched his face, her chest tight with emotion. “You have no idea how scared I was when I saw the ambulance.”
He tried to smile but couldn’t. “Ah,” he said. “My head.”
“Concussion,” the EMT told her. “He blacked out for about five minutes.”
“How bad?” Katie asked, eyeing the monitor they had attached to him, thankful it wasn’t buzzing with alerts. He appeared stable.
“I have a hard…head,” Luke whispered hoarsely.
“We won’t know until they do tests at the hospital,” was the EMT’s official answer.
The ambulance started moving. Katie bent down and kissed him. “I love you, Luke,” she said. “I love you so much. You and your hard head.”
“Katie,” he whispered, shutting his eyes. “I…am not sure I will pitch again. I…don’t know what that means for me.”
“You will pitch again,” she said, sensing the torment in him. “You will. They’ll fix your arm.”
His lashes lifted just barely, as if he couldn’t get the energy to raise them all the way. “Is that what they told you about…your knee?”
Her heart squeezed with that question because, yes, that was what they’d told her. They’d told her she would dance again. Katie wasn’t going to do that to him. She took his hand. “Whatever happens, Luke, I’m here for you.” He didn’t respond.
His lashes lowered again and Katie looked at the EMT.
“I gave him some pain medicine,” he said. “He’s sleeping.”
So he didn’t hear her vow. She’d tell him again when he woke up. She’d tell him however many times he needed to hear it. No one had been there for her when she’d lost her dancing. If Luke lost pitching, if he lost baseball, she wasn’t going to let it destroy him.
***
LUKE WOKE to find Katie asleep in the green hospital chair beside his bed where she’d dozed off and on through all the poking and prodding he’d been through. He stared at her, the woman he loved. Pale, perfect skin, smudged with dark circles. Not a stitch of makeup. Her dark hair fell wildly around her face, a rubber band at the back of her neck barely holding it in place. And she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She’d been through so much, and she deserved happiness. He had thought he could give her that happiness. He had thought he would be the man to make her wake up and smile every day. But now—well, the man she thought she knew, the man he knew himself to be, might not be anymore.
“Going to Malone’s house was such an idiotic move,” Luke mumbled under his breath, staring out the hospital window as he waited for the specialist to tell him his future.
“I told you to stop second-guessing yourself,” Katie whispered, obviously awake when he’d thought she was sleeping. She sat up and stretched.
Glancing at the clock, he noted it was midafternoon, almost three o’clock. They’d been at the hospital since midnight the night before.
Katie pushed to her feet and walked to his side. Ran her hand over his face. “No news is better than bad news.” Her voice was comforting. A light in the darkness.
Male voices sounded in the hallway before Rick and Josh appeared. “We snuck in pizza,” Rick said. “We couldn’t let you wallow in hospital food.” He rolled the table in front of the bed and opened the box. “We’d have brought beer if we thought it wouldn’t get us kicked out.”
Luke scooted to a sitting position and shoved the table aside. “I’ll eat later,” he said. “Right now, I’ll settle for either the doctor’s prognosis or maybe Malone’s head on a stick.”
“That you can have,” Josh said, ignoring the pizza, as well, and leaning against the wall. “He admitted to everything. The letters, planting the drugs, even paying a water boy to put salt in the canister during practice.”
Luke digested that with less satisfaction than he would have under different circumstances.
“I checked on Jessica while you were sleeping,” Katie interjected. “Her mom is pretty upset. There was a lot of Spanish yelling that went on—I’m pretty sure Jessica will get all the attention and advice she needs from her mother.”
Everyone laughed because they’d all heard Maria’s Spanish exclamations. “I’d hate to be Jessica right about now,” Rick said, laughing, before motioning to Luke. “Coach said he’d be by tomorrow after you have time to recover a little more.”
“You mean after he knows if I’m going to be able to pitch anymore,” Luke said. Two of his doctors came into the room: Dr. Reyes, an orthopedic specialist with gray hair and a trim, medium build; and Dr. Willis, a forty-something neurosurgeon with dark hair and a mustache. Luke was pretty sure two for one was not a good sign.
“Can we please be alone with Luke?” Dr. Willis asked.
“Sure thing, Doc,” Rick said, moving toward the door. Josh quickly followed.
Katie went to Luke’s side and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be nearby when you need me.”
Luke grabbed her hand. “Stay.” She glanced at the doctors, who nodded their acceptance.
Thirty minutes later, Luke was about to be rolled down the hall for more testing, and Katie would have to stay behind. He had a twenty-five percent chance of full recovery. In other words, he wasn’t likely to pitch again.
“If you want to play ball, Luke,” she said, “fight for it. Screw the odds.”
“Is that what you did?” he asked. “Did you fight for it?”
She shook her head. “No,” she said. “And I regret it. Don’t regret, Luke.” She squeezed his hand and then let it go, and they rolled him away. Somehow, he felt as if he was leaving her behind forever when she was simply down the hall from him. It was a feeling that ground through his gut and wouldn’t let go.
***
KATIE WATCHED Luke disappear through a set of double doors, exhaustion tearing her down. Worry for Luke was worse than the exhaustion.
Ron stepped by her side. “Go home, Katie,” he said.
“Nice to see you, too, Ron. Aren’t you going to ask how he is?”
“Bad,” he said. “I know. I talked to the doctors. I’m here now.” He repeated his order, “Go home, Katie.”
She shook off the suggestion. “Noah is bringing me a change of clothes,” she said. “I’m staying.”
“No,” he said. “I mean go back to New York. The job is done.”
She blinked, turned to him. “What?”
“Luke has a tough path ahead of him, and he has to focus. Not on you. On him. On his career. If you think he can do that with you around, you’re wrong. He’ll worry about you accepting him. He’ll worry about you, not him.”
“I…” She shut her mouth on the objection. Ron was right. Luke would worry about her. He was always worried about her. The glory of Luke was that he wasn’t a self-centered egomaniac. She tried to breathe but couldn’t seem to fill her lungs. The idea of leaving him all but killed her. Didn’t he need her? “I’ll talk to him.”
Ron shook his head. “No, Katie. You talk to him and you’ll both convince yourselves that you staying is the right move. Let him get well. Let him be about baseball.” He studied her. “Do you love him?”
“Yes,” she said. “Yes. I love him.”
“Then walk away.”
She stared down that hallway, to the empty space where Luke had been only a minute before. She pressed her hands to her face and tried to fight the tears. She’d lost her dancing. Her dream. Her life. She couldn’t be the reason Luke lost baseball.