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  “It’s only three thirty,” he said.

  “Yeah, and I was at work before seven this morning. I get out at three if I’m not stuck in the OR and I wasn’t today. Don’t you want to see me?” she asked, batting her eyelashes. “I get the feeling you wish I weren’t here.”

  “You are right with that feeling. Mom and Dad just left. They must have forgotten to lock the door. I’ll have to remind them next time so it keeps the pests out.”

  Sarah laughed and walked over to sit next to him. “How are you feeling? This place is massive. I’d ask you to give me a tour, but I don’t want you to walk around.”

  “I can walk around just fine,” he said. “Follow me.”

  He led her from one room to the next on the first floor. “You need furniture and decorations. I can help you with that.”

  “I’ll manage when I’m ready.” He didn’t care for his sister’s taste in bright colors.

  “You just want to do everything in white, black, and gray. Boring!”

  “It gets the job done and everything matches that way,” he said, pulling on a lock of her hair.

  He’d missed her something silly. Even though he hadn’t lived that far from her in the past several years, he was always on the road. His family visited often, he even offered to buy a place for them in the city to stay at, but they didn’t want any part of it.

  At least he was able to talk his mother into retiring early. His father finally retired from his State job last year and started to collect his pension. They didn’t need it; he’d paid off all their debt. He’d taken care of his family like he’d always said he would.

  But his father insisted he was putting his thirty years into the State, getting his pension and health insurance, and then he and his mother were traveling.

  They did. They traveled around and watched a lot of his games. They were having the time of their lives.

  Now they were back home and thinking they had to care for him. He’d have to remind them he was an adult and not an invalid.

  Though his sister didn’t think so. “Whatever. You never had any taste. Do you need me to go with you and Dad to the doctor’s tomorrow? I’m off.”

  “Why are you off?” he asked. “I thought you worked Monday through Friday.” His sister had been at the top of her nursing class. She was hired right away by Albany Medical Center as an OR nurse in an outpatient unit and fit right in. She loved not working holidays or weekends, just staying for day surgeries at a smaller campus.

  “I took it off just in case.”

  “You wasted a day off then. I don’t need my hand held.”

  Sarah huffed out a breath. “We all do at some point in our lives, Harris. You have to learn to accept help.”

  “As you can see, I’m getting around just fine. Once this boot is off, I can drive myself places.”

  “They are going to put you in physical therapy, you know that, right? You aren’t going to fight it, are you?”

  “No,” he said. It wouldn’t be the same PT he’d gone through for other injuries, but he knew if he wanted to at least regain the use of his arm and get most of his strength back, he’d need the guidance.

  “That’s good.” She tilted her head. “Are you hoping to get back on the mound?”

  He laughed. Not a funny sound. Not a happy one. He wasn’t sure what it was. Just a noise that came out when he was trying to gather his thoughts. “I’m a pretty realistic person.”

  “I’m here if you need to talk,” she said, but let it drop. He was glad for it. He wasn’t ready to talk about it much more than he just did.

  “Thanks. Do you want some dinner? We can order pizza?”

  “I’d like that,” she said, pulling her phone out and placing the order without even asking him what he wanted. She got what they always had as kids and he was looking forward to it.

  What he wasn’t looking forward to was figuring out what his life was going to amount to in the future.

  2

  Golden Boy

  Kaelyn looked down at the chart of her next patient. Harris Walker.

  When she first saw the name she thought it was funny that there were two Harris Walkers. Harris wasn’t that common of a name and anyone who lived in the Capital Region knew the one she remembered.

  The golden boy pitcher drafted third when he was just eighteen years old. The Mets wanted him, they got him, and Harris hadn’t left their team since.

  She didn’t know him personally. She lived in Colonie and went to South Colonie High. He had lived in North Colonie and went to Shaker.

  But his name, oh yeah, big news for years. He now lived in New York City somewhere or at least she thought he did.

  She’d seen reports about his accident on the news. She’d heard it was most likely career ending, but not much more had been published. His agent was silent. His team was keeping quiet. He was out of the spotlight and not many even knew where he was staying right now.

  That is until she started to read the chart, saw her patient was thirty and here for physical therapy on his ankle and right forearm and elbow. Didn’t she read those were the injuries that Harris received in his accident?

  It had to be the same person. Only why was he in Albany when he had access to some of the best in the field on a professional level from his team alone?

  Only one way to find out, she figured, when she stood up and put her lab coat on. She’d rather just wear scrubs and be comfortable, but since she wasn’t doing a ton of physical activity they liked therapists to look professional.

  She opened the door to an exam room and, yep, there he was. All six-foot-five-inch deliciousness of pro athlete Harris Walker. The man most women drooled over and men wanted to be.

  She wasn’t most women and didn’t drool over too many men. She wasn’t a groupie and didn’t want a piece of someone that many had already had.

  But she couldn’t deny he was a treat for the eyes.

  “Harris Walker?” she asked with a grin on her face as she walked in holding her laptop, her other hand extended to his.

  “That’s me,” he said, his voice just as deep in person as it was when he was being interviewed on TV. She’d never been a huge baseball fan, but she knew the basics, had been to a game or two, though she didn’t watch it much. Not when there were more games played than she even knew about. It was a long season, that much she was aware of, and it seemed they were on pretty much every night.

  “Kaelyn,” she said back. She didn’t give her last name often, though it was on her nametag if someone bothered to look at it. “I’m your physical therapist for the next several weeks. Or until you feel like you’ve got everything you need.”

  “I’m sure I won’t need much,” he said.

  Cocky, but then she figured that much. “You’re in great shape and are used to strenuous workouts, I’m sure. But you are healing from some pretty major injuries.”

  “Since I’m living it, I know all about it.”

  She snorted. He was going to be difficult, she could tell right now. “So let’s clear the air. I’m not going to run to the press. That would be violating all sorts of HIPAA regulations, costing me my job and my license. Can I ask why you are getting therapy here and not with your team?”

  “So you follow baseball?” he asked.

  “I’ve lived here my whole life,” she said. “Even if I didn’t, I’d have to have been holed up in a cave to not know who you are.”

  “Butler?” he asked, looking at her name tag. “Lots of them around. Whereabouts are you from?”

  “This is about you, not me.”

  “If you want me to cooperate, you can answer a few questions. It’s just conversation.”

  “Whether you cooperate or not is your choice. We can talk without me giving you my personal history.”

  He laughed this time and, man, did it transform his face. Did she say she didn’t drool? There might be a first for everything. “I asked where you were from, not your height, weight, age, and dating status.”<
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  Her lips twitched at that. “I’m from Colonie. Though I’m not telling you my age, we would have been in high school together had we gone to the same school. We didn’t.”

  “South Colonie High?” he asked.

  “You had a fifty-fifty guess. Since you went to Shaker, it wasn’t hard to figure that one out.”

  “You could have gone to a private school, for all I know. There are plenty in the area.”

  He was right and it was wrong of her to make that comment. There was plenty of money to send her to a private school, but neither she nor her brothers wanted any part of that. Not her cousins either.

  Even for their family wealth they were pretty simple people at the heart of it.

  “No private school for me,” she said. “Just a regular person like you.”

  “With a name like Butler?” he asked, lifting his eyebrow.

  “It’s a common enough name,” she said back.

  “In Colonie? I’d say ‘common’ is the wrong word. But we’ll let it drop.”

  “Back to you,” she said. “This is your appointment. So, are you doing your rehab here and then going back? The team signed off on this?”

  “I’m back in the area,” he said. “No, I’m not going back to the team. And though there hasn’t been a formal press release there most likely will be soon.”

  There was a distant look in his eyes and she felt a pang of sympathy for him. Here she was bantering with him, but there was more going on behind the scenes, she was sure. It wasn’t her place to ask or question.

  He was here to get stronger whether he ever threw a pitch professionally again or not. “I’m sorry for that. I won’t have to worry about other doctors or therapists blowing my phone up and telling me I’m not doing it right, then?”

  “No. I’m here for PT to get back to life. A normal life. Whatever the hell that means.”

  “It means you are going to be like the rest of us. You’re going to walk and run and be physically active. Still more than most. But your fastball isn’t going to have a ton of steam on it.”

  “Nope,” he said. “I had a good run. I need to accept that.”

  She put her hand on this thigh and patted it. “Things like that take time. You are in really good shape physically; you’ll figure the rest of it out as it comes. I’m sure you’ve got a great support system.”

  “Family is a pain in the butt, not a support system.”

  This time she had to laugh. “Oh, don’t I know it. Okay, let’s start with your ankle. You’re still in a sling. My report says the temporary cast will be coming off next week for good?”

  “Yes. I take it off now to shower and move it a bit. Hurts like a bitch.”

  “The muscle is probably half its size.”

  He snorted. “And then some.”

  “We’ll work on it as we go. First off, your ankle. How does it feel?”

  “Pretty good. The boot came off last week. It’s just stiff. I keep trying to stretch and rotate it.”

  “That’s a good start. Do you mind if I take a look at it?”

  He was just sitting in a chair, but stood up to move to the table. He toed his sneaker off, then reached his left hand down, but she stopped him. “I’ve got it,” she said, removing his sock. He had shorts on and she glanced at his left ankle, most of it showing over his sock. “Looks good. No swelling.”

  “It’s skinnier than my left.”

  “You could still have swelling and you don’t.” She put his sock back on and then undid the laces on his sneaker and slipped it on. “We are going to start small today. I’m going to just stretch your ankle and show you some exercises you can do at home. The stronger you get, the more we’ll work on weights and balance.”

  “Sounds good,” he said, standing up.

  “Then let’s go put you to work.”

  3

  Out Of Sight

  Harris hadn’t expected such a young woman to walk in the door. He figured he’d get some guy the same age as his father or a woman with a Swedish name that would make him swear as she maneuvered his ankle in all directions.

  Instead it was this vision of loveliness that was barely five foot five with a gentle touch as she propped his foot on her thigh, then pushed against the pad of his toes, his heel moving closer to her. It took a second for him not to yelp the first time she did it. He didn’t want to come off as a wuss, but damn, that hurt worse than when he needed stitches as a kid and the doctor shoved a needle in the open wound to numb the pain.

  But the more she did it, the better it felt, the less pain he had.

  She held the stretch this time. “Now push back against my hands.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t,” she said. “I’m braced, and I hate to break it to you, but you aren’t as strong as you think you are. It’s not like you are going to topple me over out of the chair, but if you do, then you do.”

  Slowly he started to push his toes back at her, but her hands weren’t moving. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Completely fine. Push harder. I know you’ve got more than that.”

  So he did. He pushed as hard as he could. Her hands and elbows were locked in place and she wasn’t budging. It didn’t seem like his toes were either, but it sure the hell felt like it was. He was actually wincing but didn’t realize it until she pointed it out.

  “I know it hurts, but keep doing it.”

  “You’re just a little thing. I’ve got to have close to a hundred pounds on you. How the hell aren’t you moving?”

  “I told you you aren’t as strong as you think. Not in this position at least.”

  He pushed harder. “Insulting me isn’t helping.”

  She laughed at him. “Relax. Now point your toe at me and flex it back. Keep going back and forth.”

  He did and then got a major cramp in his foot. “Jesus,” he said.

  “I’ve got it.” Her hands went right to his arch and started to massage it until the muscle loosened up and he could release the breath he was holding. Talk about mortifying.

  “What the hell was that?” he asked.

  “You’re expending it harder than you have been. It’s going to take time. You’re strong and healthy. I’ve said it already, but some of your muscles are very weak. The key is strengthening them slowly.”

  “Can’t get much slower than this,” he said. “Why doesn’t it hurt this much when I walk?”

  “Because you’re still walking stiffly. I noticed it. Are you afraid it’s going to get re-injured? I can assure you the bone is healed.”

  “No. I think it’s force of habit from walking with a boot on.”

  “Exactly. You need to get out and walk some more. No treadmill. Walk outside.”

  “Why not the treadmill?”

  “Because it’s not a natural surface. You want to walk around on grass that is soft or asphalt that will give. Things like that. Not at a set or forced pace but a pace you can adjust yourself. The more you walk the more you will get back into a rhythm. How much have you been moving around?”

  “Not a lot,” he admitted. “I just moved back here. I walk around my house, but even then, just the first floor. I haven’t gotten out much.”

  He hadn’t been ready to venture into the public eye. Not many would be looking for him or notice him. He could put a hat on his head and blend in pretty well anyway, if he wanted to get out.

  It’s just he hadn’t wanted to.

  Did his mother lecture him to get the hell out of the house and stop sulking? She had.

  Did he think he was sulking? He didn’t. Not really.

  He had a right to stay in his new house and relax.

  Except he wasn’t doing much other than binge watching TV shows that he’d never had time to see before. He wasn’t even watching baseball, not able to bring himself to.

  Johnny had called him a few times. He talked to him, sent him a few texts, but knew how rigorous the schedule was too.

 
A few others had reached out, but out of sight out of mind.

  Maybe it was better that way.

  “Take a walk outside around your house then. Go in the middle of the day when people aren’t about and you won’t have to worry you’ll run into anyone.”

  That had been a bit of a concern to him. His development was massive and he was in the new section where houses were still being built. He had no immediate neighbors currently, so he was safe there.

  “I suppose I could force myself to get outside and walk up and down the street.”

  “Got any pets?” she asked. “Stupid question with your schedule. I was going to say having a dog to walk is a good excuse to get out.”

  He’d never had a pet since he’d been on his own. He wasn’t around enough to take care of one.

  Did he think he’d want to get one now? Maybe it would keep him company.

  “I’ll think about it,” he said.

  “I’m not saying to go get one. Just that it’s a good excuse to get out or to force you out. Probably not a good idea until your arm is healed.”

  “The brace and sling come off in three days,” he said. “I could walk and hold a leash with my left hand if I wanted to.”

  “I was joking,” she said. “Really, you shouldn’t make any kind of commitment like that. It seems to me there are a lot of changes going on in your life.”

  “So what’s one more?” he said. She looked at her watch, stood up so he figured their first session was done. They’d spent more time talking and stretching than anything. “So is this all we are going to do here?”

  “No,” she said. “But I wanted to get a good idea of your range of motion and strength. Since it’s Friday, this weekend I’d like you to do some of these exercises on your own, a few times a day. Get out and walk. Just ten to fifteen minutes once or twice, and no running yet.”

  “I hate running,” he said. He did it because it was part of his training, but he detested running on a treadmill, running on the grass, or around the field.