The Sweetest Game(10)

With a slight smile, I headed toward the back of the room and rounded the corner just as the team doctor injected a shot into Jack’s arm to help ease his pain. I noticed that he didn’t even wince.

“I think it’s shattered,” Jack admitted as soon as his dark brown eyes met mine.

SHATTERED.

And in that moment, that’s exactly how my heart felt. I rushed to his side, needing to be as physically close to him in that moment as I could.

“We don’t know that yet,” the doctor interjected. “I’m Dr. Evans.”

I extended my hand to his. “I’m Cassie.”

One look at Jack’s face and my chest ached with the need to protect and comfort him. I stroked his shoulder as I asked, my tone all business, “What do we know?”

“It’s definitely broken, but to what extent I’m not sure yet.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “But it will heal just fine, right? People break their hands all the time.”

Dr. Evans nodded. “True. But we need to make sure it won’t require surgery, or pins or metal plates.”

Pins or metal plates? Oh my God.

Jack swallowed audibly and I continued to prod the doctor, my growing concern overruling all levelheadedness. “And if it does, then what? People have surgery on their hands all the time too. They get better.”

“Yes, Mrs. Carter, they do,” he said with a frown. “But most of those people aren’t major league pitchers.”

My heart sank. “So, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I need to x-ray his hand first and then I’ll have more answers for you.”

Jack’s chin dropped to his chest and I watched his eyes close.

“Do I need to take him to a hospital?” I started to reach for my cell phone to call Matteo.

“No, no. I have a machine in the other room. As the team’s physician, I’m responsible for Jack’s condition and his recovery. It’s my job.”

“Wow. So we don’t have to go anywhere else?” Since I’d never thought this through, I didn’t know how it worked when a major league player was injured. Wrongly, I’d assumed Jack would have to get checked out at regular hospital, like normal people. But then again, the team chartered their own commercial planes to fly them places, so nothing about this lifestyle was normal.

“If I’m on the road with the team, one of my trainers will be here to help you, so no. You should never have to take Jack anywhere other than here.”

The Mets organization cared about Jack’s recovery, so I allowed myself to be comforted by the thought that he would be taken care of by the people who were invested in him the most. It was in their best interest, as well as his, to get him healed.

“If you’ll excuse us, Mrs. Carter, we’ll only be a minute.” The doctor motioned for Jack to follow him into another room. “Let’s go see what we’re dealing with, Jack.”

I paced the floor, one hand tugging at my lips from nervous habit. I wanted to call Dean, but knew he’d ask me questions I didn’t have the answers to. So I waited to call anyone until I had more to tell them. A broken hand was one thing, but having a hand that required surgery was another.

A few minutes later, Jack exited the medical room alone and scooped me into a careful hug. I felt his heart racing as our chests pressed together. “I love you, Kitten.” He gave me a quick kiss, then released me and hopped back onto the exam table. His hand looked painful, his fingers had taken on a purplish tint and were swollen to a ridiculous size. The sight of it made my stomach tighten painfully and I had to turn my gaze away.

“I love you too.” I wanted to say more, but words failed me. Bringing my hand toward my heart, my fingers grazed across the ball chain necklace that lay there. I glanced down at the key attached and moved my fingers to it, rubbing them across the etched letters for comfort.

Between the lies from Chrystle and the brutality from the press and fans, it wasn’t that long ago when I felt like my insides were unraveling. Melissa had given me this necklace when I needed it the most. Imagining that Jack was experiencing the same sort of feelings right about now, I realized this was the right time to pass the necklace on, as was intended.

I reached around the back of my neck, my fingers gripping at the chain before pulling it over my head. When I lowered the necklace around Jack’s neck, he looked up at me, his face pale and strained with pain, and raised his eyebrows at me. The bronze key fell against his sweaty white T-shirt before he glanced down at it. With his uninjured hand, he lifted the key and flipped it to the stamped side, then read its message out loud. “Strength.”