Hot Target

“I told you to stop second-guessing yourself,” Katie whispered, obviously awake when he’d thought she was sleeping. She sat up and stretched.

Glancing at the clock, he noted it was midafternoon, almost three o’clock. They’d been at the hospital since midnight the night before.

Katie pushed to her feet and walked to his side. Ran her hand over his face. “No news is better than bad news.” Her voice was comforting. A light in the darkness.

Male voices sounded in the hallway before Rick and Josh appeared. “We snuck in pizza,” Rick said. “We couldn’t let you wallow in hospital food.” He rolled the table in front of the bed and opened the box. “We’d have brought beer if we thought it wouldn’t get us kicked out.”

Luke scooted to a sitting position and shoved the table aside. “I’ll eat later,” he said. “Right now, I’ll settle for either the doctor’s prognosis or maybe Malone’s head on a stick.”

“That you can have,” Josh said, ignoring the pizza, as well, and leaning against the wall. “He admitted to everything. The letters, planting the drugs, even paying a water boy to put salt in the canister during practice.”

Luke digested that with less satisfaction than he would have under different circumstances.

“I checked on Jessica while you were sleeping,” Katie interjected. “Her mom is pretty upset. There was a lot of Spanish yelling that went on—I’m pretty sure Jessica will get all the attention and advice she needs from her mother.”

Everyone laughed because they’d all heard Maria’s Spanish exclamations. “I’d hate to be Jessica right about now,” Rick said, laughing, before motioning to Luke. “Coach said he’d be by tomorrow after you have time to recover a little more.”

“You mean after he knows if I’m going to be able to pitch anymore,” Luke said. Two of his doctors came into the room: Dr. Reyes, an orthopedic specialist with gray hair and a trim, medium build; and Dr. Willis, a forty-something neurosurgeon with dark hair and a mustache. Luke was pretty sure two for one was not a good sign.

“Can we please be alone with Luke?” Dr. Willis asked.

“Sure thing, Doc,” Rick said, moving toward the door. Josh quickly followed.

Katie went to Luke’s side and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be nearby when you need me.”

Luke grabbed her hand. “Stay.” She glanced at the doctors, who nodded their acceptance.

Thirty minutes later, Luke was about to be rolled down the hall for more testing, and Katie would have to stay behind. He had a twenty-five percent chance of full recovery. In other words, he wasn’t likely to pitch again.

“If you want to play ball, Luke,” she said, “fight for it. Screw the odds.”

“Is that what you did?” he asked. “Did you fight for it?”

She shook her head. “No,” she said. “And I regret it. Don’t regret, Luke.” She squeezed his hand and then let it go, and they rolled him away. Somehow, he felt as if he was leaving her behind forever when she was simply down the hall from him. It was a feeling that ground through his gut and wouldn’t let go.

***

KATIE WATCHED Luke disappear through a set of double doors, exhaustion tearing her down. Worry for Luke was worse than the exhaustion.

Ron stepped by her side. “Go home, Katie,” he said.

“Nice to see you, too, Ron. Aren’t you going to ask how he is?”

“Bad,” he said. “I know. I talked to the doctors. I’m here now.” He repeated his order, “Go home, Katie.”

She shook off the suggestion. “Noah is bringing me a change of clothes,” she said. “I’m staying.”

“No,” he said. “I mean go back to New York. The job is done.”

She blinked, turned to him. “What?”

“Luke has a tough path ahead of him, and he has to focus. Not on you. On him. On his career. If you think he can do that with you around, you’re wrong. He’ll worry about you accepting him. He’ll worry about you, not him.”

“I…” She shut her mouth on the objection. Ron was right. Luke would worry about her. He was always worried about her. The glory of Luke was that he wasn’t a self-centered egomaniac. She tried to breathe but couldn’t seem to fill her lungs. The idea of leaving him all but killed her. Didn’t he need her? “I’ll talk to him.”

Ron shook his head. “No, Katie. You talk to him and you’ll both convince yourselves that you staying is the right move. Let him get well. Let him be about baseball.” He studied her. “Do you love him?”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes. I love him.”

“Then walk away.”

She stared down that hallway, to the empty space where Luke had been only a minute before. She pressed her hands to her face and tried to fight the tears. She’d lost her dancing. Her dream. Her life. She couldn’t be the reason Luke lost baseball.