Page 40 of Draft Pick
Do I pick him and pretend it’s only because he’s familiar? Or do I step out of my comfort zone and pick someone new and exciting?
Would Crew mind? Wait. I don’t owe him a reason. We’re friends. He will be happy for me. I need to think about it. Luckily, I have months to decide.
But in the meantime, I’ve got a blind date to go on, and dreadfully, a mother to check in on.
12
CREW
Well,that was a bitch.
Not the fact that I’m finally home, but the soreness.
I run through my nightly routine: setting out Doodle’s meds, prepping her lunch for tomorrow, and signing off on school paperwork and her behavior chart. All of the things that make mornings run smoother the weeks she’s with me.
My body is on fire after the killer therapy session I had. Not only did we focus on getting full range of motion back in my elbow, we also worked every other muscle group in the body. I’m already wrecked from practice and my morning runs, now throw in intense therapy, and I’m fucking toast.
I already know the morning is gonna suck even more. The next day hurts the worst. I don’t care what anyone says about it.
Alternating ice and heat are the only things on my agenda for tomorrow. Well, that and spending the evening at Boone.
It’s been a while since I’ve been able to stay through a full dinner rush and then some. I’m excited to have my hand in the kitchen again. It’ll give me a chance to assess my staff, what’s working and what’s not, along with the things I can implement to make service better.
After my run-through of evaluations, I plan to bartend. God, something about doing it makes me feel young again. I already called Troy to let him know I’m stepping in.
I need something to make me feel the slightest bit successful.
Not like anything else is doing that at the moment.
This injury has imposed on all of my career plans. Not only depleting me of what feels like my talent, but serving as a painful reminder of it on a daily basis. There’s not a day I wake up that I don’t feel pain. Some days are worse than others, but now that spring training has passed and the season has begun, my elbow is spent.
The beginning of the season is when I should perform my best. Feel my best.
The days of being at the top of my game are over, and I feel a bit lost in that reality.
I check the time on the stainless steel stove—9:00.
It’s early compared to when I typically get home on training days. I had to call Vanna last minute to see if she could stay with Addie a little while longer. Coach had physical therapy lined up for me without even thinking to check my schedule, something I’d usually give him hell about, but I sucked it up today.
Addie is fast asleep as of an hour ago, but I can never really be too sure. There are days when she takes ages to calm herself down enough to fall asleep. Her body is exhausted, but her brain doesn’t understand the message.
Because I fucking deserve it, I grab a beer from the garage fridge and get comfortable on the couch. I don’t drink often, aside from random nights out, which are few and far between. I hate the repercussions. Nothing about waking up and feeling like horse shit is appealing.
But tonight, I need something to unwind. Even if it means I take a few sips and trash it. Settling myself between theoversized pillows some designer fromPeopleMagazinetold me I needed, I stare at nothing, wondering how I got here.
Single. Close to retirement before I turn forty. A beautiful daughter, whom I often feel helpless in helping. A restaurant that runs itself, while I’d love nothing more than to be a part of its growth.
If only I could clone myself and be in four places at once with great health and time management.
Top of that priority list is my Doodle. She’s my reason.
Juniper’s face shouldn’t be the next thing I see. Thoughts of our conversation in my car are at the forefront of my mind. There’s something different about her. She’s stunning, that much is true. But she also has a layer of depth to her that I wasn’t expecting. She asks questions, and I know it’s not just to fill conversation gaps. There are no gaps. It’s because she actually gives a shit about people. I can tell.
She gives a shit aboutmeeach time she asks about my life. About Addie. And you know what really sets her apart? The only time baseball has ever been brought up is when it relates to my injury or plans for retirement. Not once has that beautiful woman dug for answers on my net worth or attempted to shallowly ask my playing stats or compliment my form.
The shit I hear on repeat from other women.
Surface-level women.
