He just stares back at me.
“I…uh…I’m really sorry,” I backpedal. “I just… It’s been a long day, and I think I just need to get some sleep and start fresh in the morning. Now probably wasn’t the most optimal time to have this conversation.”
“That’s reasonable.” He nods. “Normally, I’d be pretty pissed that someone I’ve handed a great opportunity to is pretty much shitting all over it, but I’m going to be nice and give you the benefit of the doubt. You did me a favor by going out there and helping Rhett. And, honestly, it was a blessing you were out there when Tex had his heart attack.”
Just the mere mention of Rhett’s name makes my heart want to fall out of my chest.
“So,” Frank continues. “Let’s shelve this conversation until you’ve gotten back into the swing of things here. We’ll revisit this next week.”
“Okay.”
The conversation comes to an end, and I head out of his office with a head that’s spinning faster than a fucking top.
Frank Kaminsky just told me he wants me to take over Dr. Hall’s position, and I pretty much told him I didn’t want it.
Surely I’m going to regret those words after I sleep on it, right?
I mean, what the fuck?
That position is what I’ve wanted. What I’ve been working for.
But why does it feel like it’s not where I should be?
Because you left your fucking heart at Shaw Springs.
Tears threaten to prick my eyes for the fourth time today, and I shake it off and focus on heading back to the practice court. I have three players to check out and a hundred other things to get settled. I don’t have time for tears.
I do, though, have time to grab my cell phone out of my purse and try to call Rhett’s landline one more time.
It rings and rings and rings, and just like the ten other times I’ve attempted to call him, it goes to his answering machine.
Which, unfortunately for me, is full and unable to accept any more messages.
I silently wonder if he even remembers he has a fucking answering machine.
You shouldn’t have gotten on that plane this morning.
Shit. I sigh. I should’ve at least told the execs from the Slammers organization that I couldn’t leave until I spoke with Rhett.
Because leaving things the horrible way we left them last night?
That, right now, is my biggest regret.
August 13th, Thursday
Tex
“Tex! Tex! Wake up!” Jenny’s voice startles the shit out of me, and I pop my eyes open to find her standing over me.
“What the hell ya doin’, honey?” I question and rub at my eyes with one hand. “Is something on fire?”
“Frank is on the phone.”
“Huh?”
“Frank Kaminsky,” she repeats. “He’s on the phone.”
“What time is it?” I ask, and she glances at the watch on her wrist.
“A little after five.”
“Hell, I fell asleep in the recliner again, didn’t I?”
“You sure did.” She smiles down at me and reaches out to touch a gentle hand to my cheek.
I’m telling ya, ever since I had my heart attack and everyone’s been hassling me to relax and take things easy, I’ve sure become too damn lazy. Like clockwork, I just up and fall asleep in the middle of the damn day.
You’d think all this healthy eating and medication keeping my heart in check would give me more energy, but fuck, it’s like I’ve turned into a fucking cat.
“Gettin’ old is a real bitch,” I mutter, and my wife flashes an amused smile at me as she walks back into the kitchen.
With a grunt, I ease my body out of the recliner. My hips pop and my knees crack with my first moves, but eventually, I’m on my feet and heading into my office.
My rotary phone is sitting off the hook, and I grab it and put it to my ear.
“Ya there, Frank?”
“I’m here,” he answers. “Though, I thought maybe Jenny’d forgotten about me.”
I chuckle. “Nah, she had to wake my lazy ass up from a nap.”
“A nap?” he asks, surprise in his voice. “Tex Jameson takes fuckin’ naps now?”
“Apparently,” I respond. “I think those damn Salt Lake doctors of yours fucked me up when they were treating my heart attack.”
“You feeling good, though?”
“Yeah. I’m feeling and doing good.”
“Glad to hear. Was real worried about ya.”
“Ah, c’mon, Frank. You know I’m too much of a bastard to up and die this early. Surely I’ll be around for another twenty or so years just so I can give you a hard time whenever I can.”
He laughs. “Well, speaking of doctors, that’s actually why I’m calling.”
“Yeah?”
“What the hell did ya do to my doctor?”
My head jerks back. “Huh?”
“Leah Levee,” he expands. “I sent her to ya, and she was motivated and ready to seize the fucking day, ready to work to be my number one doctor on the Slammers team. But after she came back from your ranch, it’s like she’s had a fuckin’ brain transplant or some shit.”