'…And Fuller goes back, back to the far wall. He's there. He jumps. His hand hits the wall as the ball lands in his glove but he manages to hold on to it! Fuller prevents a grand slam but can he keep the number of runs down to a manageable level?'
Holding her breath, Micki leaned forward in her seat.
'Rodriguez scores on the sacrifice fly! Fuller throws to third and Baressi holds up at second base. Damian Fuller keeps the damage to one run.'
Micki let out a long stream of air. 'That was close.'
'He's got some mileage left in him yet,' Uncle Yank said from his bed.
She turned. 'You're up!' she said, surprised.
'What do you expect when you blast the television like that?'
'How are you feeling?'
'It hurts.'
She knew what the admission cost him. 'Sophie's been making phone calls. We're getting you the best physical therapist there is. You'll be up and about in no time,' she promised her uncle.
He nodded. 'You're good girls. I don't tell you that often enough.'
Micki smiled. 'Yes you do.' She rose, walked to the bed and leaned over to place a kiss on his cheek.
'Oh shit. Make it louder,' her uncle said, suddenly agitated and pointing wildly toward the TV.
Micki turned and grabbed the remote, which was wired to his bed. She raised the sound but she'd already caught sight of Damian in the outfield, surrounded by his coach and trainers.
'…And Fuller is helped off the field. We don't know the full extent of the injury or if it's related to his last stint on the DL but as soon as anything comes our way, we'll report it back to you.'
Micki hit the mute button once more. She met her uncle's worried gaze with one of her own. Her stomach plummeted because she knew, whether or not this injury kept him out of the game, Damian was going to take it as yet another sign that the career he loved was coming to an end.
“This can't be good,' she said aloud.
Her uncle shook his head. 'But you can't fight age forever,' he said, thoughtfully.
Micki wondered if he was referring to Damian or to himself.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DAMIAN'S SEVEN-DAY ROAD TRIP was cut short by a plane ride home to see Dr. Maddux and undergo a full battery of tests on his wrist, including X rays and an electromyogram that recorded the electrical activity of the nerve and muscle cells in his wrist. Maddux said he'd call him with the results, but it didn't take a damn machine to tell Damian that there was pressure on the nerve and swelling there, too.
Based on the tingling numbness and almost complete lack of feeling in his thumb, Damian figured it didn't matter much what the diagnosis was, his season just might be finished.
Not to mention what was left of his career.
He poured himself a second shot of whiskey and sat down in his favorite leather chair in his den. He left the plasma screen black, not wanting to flip channels and see what was happening in a world that for him was falling apart. How much more crap would be clumped on his head before it was all over? Damian wondered, feeling sorry for himself and not giving a good goddamn.
The doorbell rang and he ignored it. He wasn't in the mood for company, especially his sisters, the only people besides his parents that Rafael, the doorman, would allow up without calling first
The buzzer sounded a second time and then a third. Obviously Rafael had told them he was home. With a curse, Damian rose and headed for the door, intending to kiss whichever well-meaning sibling was behind it hello and then goodbye.
'Don't you realize when someone doesn't answer the door he doesn't want to be bothered?' he asked at the same time he pulled it open wide.
'Hello, Oscar,' Micki said with a big smile.
He scratched his head, his slightly inebriated brain not comprehending her reference.
'Oscar the Grouch. Now let me in so we can talk ' Without waiting for permission, she ducked under his arm and strode inside. “
He slammed the door shut behind himself. Micki was the one person he wanted to see and the person he'd been avoiding. He figured he'd dumped enough of his problems on her without adding his injury to the list.
He followed behind her, taking in the sweet curve of her rear end encased in tight denim and the hint of skin at her waist peeking out below the cropped top. Her hips swayed as she walked and his groin grew thick and hard with wanting her. At least some part of his broken-down body still worked.
'So how'd you get Rafael to let you in?*' He slammed the door shut behind him.
She shrugged. 'I was just honest. I told him you'd been through a lot and you needed a friend. He looked me in the eye and buzzed me right in. I think if I'd said I'd come to seduce you he'd have tossed me out on my rear end.'
Damian laughed despite himself. 'He's definitely done that before for me. He's a bouncer in his spare time'
'You need security to keep the women away, huh?'
He could tell she was deliberately keeping the conversation light for his sake and decided the hell with it. He wasn't in a light mood and she might as well know it going in.
'Right now I want everyone to stay away.' He caught himself immediately. 'Except you.' He hadn't wanted company but with Micki he didn't feel the need to entertain her or make small talk.
She'd never been to his apartment, yet she made herself at home, heading straight for the den and his oversize club chair. Since she'd taken his seat, Damian eased-himself beside her on the arm of the chair.
'So how bad is it?' she asked, reaching for his good hand, the one not in a brace.
'Can't feel my thumb and the rest of me hand tingles like it's asleep.'
'What do the doctors say?'
He shrugged. 'They're being deliberately vague till the tests are read. They're still mentioning carpal tunnel and a pinched nerve but nobody's willing to commit to anything.'
Micki swallowed hard. She'd come here because he'd ignored her calls on both his cell and his home number, and she'd realized he was probably holed up here throwing a pity party for himself. She glanced at the half-full glass of whiskey and frowned. She hated that she'd been right.
Damian was the least self-pitying man she knew but the potential for bad news was strong and he'd spent who knows how long denying the inevitable.
'Don't take this the wrong way and jump all over me, okay?' she asked.
He tipped his head towards her. 'I promise not to take it the wrong way. As for jumping you-'
She laughed. 'Those weren't my exact words.'
'They work well enough for me,' he said in a husky tone she couldn't mistake.
A tremor of awareness shot through her but she forced herself to keep her focus. He might not realize it, but he needed sound advice and she was here to give it to him. 'Didn't you realize something like this would happen eventually?'
'Ever hear of denial?'
She thought of her Uncle Yank. 'I'm vaguely familiar with the term. Look, you're thirty-five and have a multimillion-dollar contract. You've been selected for ten consecutive Ail-Star appearances, you've won an All-Star MVP award, five Silver Slugger Awards and ten consecutive Golden Gloves and that's not the half of your accomplishments. That's a lot to be proud of no matter when you have to step down.' She glanced up and noticed the satisfied expression that curved his mouth into a sexy grin.
'Has someone been reading up on me?' he asked.
She nudged him in the side with her elbow. 'Don't be so arrogant. I just happen to know these things.'
He burst out laughing.
She ignored the burn in her cheeks. 'My point is-'
'I get your point, Micki. I just can't accept it.'
“Well maybe it's time you do.' She let out an exasperated groan. 'Maybe it's time that spoiled little boy who
