Page 117 of Off Pitch

I groan in pain. “I felt a, uh… pop in my thigh. Hamstring, probably.”

“Fuck, that’s not good,” Martin says before signaling to Skip that we need help.

“Yeah,” I say through gritted teeth. “Hurts like a motherfucker right now.Fuck.”

“Knox, what’s going on?” I hear a female voice running toward me.

Lucia.

One of Harlow’s best friends.

Just perfect.

“Hamstring,” Cole tells her.

“Shit,” she mutters as Dr. Coltrain, our team physician, leans down beside her. I see Lane and Josh standing behind him, worried expressions on their faces.

“How is it feeling now, Knox?” Dr. Coltrain asks.

“Like… shit,” I manage.

“Okay,” he says. “Just nod or shake your head to answer my questions. Did you feel a popping or tearing sensation before you went down?”

I nod.

“Do you feel any swelling starting?”

I nod again.

“Are you able to fully extend your leg?”

I try to do so, fighting through the pain, but I can only extend it so far. So, I shake my head.

“It certainly sounds like a hamstring strain. The medics are coming over now with the cart. You need to get to the hospital.”

When the cart arrives, Lucia and Dr. Coltrain help the medic load me, and then I’m heading off the field. I do a slight wave to let the fans know I’m okay, but I don’t think they’ll really be missing me on the mound tonight. I’ve already given up seven runs.

Now I’m off to the hospital. Depending on the severity of the injury, there’s a potential need for surgery.

A surgery would take me out for the rest of the season.

I really fucking hope that doesn’t happen.

If I’m recovering from surgery, I won’t be making any media appearances or going out in public.

If I’m not going to be seen anywhere, there’s no reason for a fake relationship since I’ll be out of the public eye.

And if there’s no fake relationship, there’s no reason for Harlow to stick around.

And that might actually break me.

forty-four

Harlow

I try watching thegame tonight.

I really do.

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