Page 7 of Unraveling Rain
“The owner is married to Gio Bianchi,” Jordan says, like I’m supposed to know who that is. I give him a blank stare.
“You don’t know who Gio Bianchi is?” Jordan asks, incredulous.
I shake my head.
“Billionaire and philanthropist. Gio Bianchi is none other than the new investor in the Carolina Red Wolves. Actually, he’s invested in pretty much every professional team in North Carolina—men’s and women’s.”
I let out a low whistle. “That’s awesome. But yeah, I had no clue who he was.”
“Maybe it’s because you’ve been under a rock for the past couple of months,” Jordan jabs.
I can’t even be mad at him, because it’s true. I’ve been hiding.
The food arrives, and I immediately start drooling at the sight and the smell that hits my nose.Vaca fritais one of my favorite dishes. The strong garlic and onion scent, combined with the fried plantains, just hits the right spot.
I grew up in a mix of cultures. My dad is Colombian and moved to Massachusetts to play baseball at a D1 school. That’s where he met my mom, a woman of Polish descent from Western Massachusetts. What he didn’t know then was that my mom was the daughter of one of the greatest hockey players of all time—Randy Wozniak.
Even though most of the Hispanics in the area are from Puerto Rico, Dad always found a way to share his culture and traditions with me. That’s why plantains are such a rooted memory. I grew up eatingpatacónduring summer andp?czkiaround Easter. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
“So, where in the mountains is this place exactly?” I ask after enjoying a mouthful of food.
“It’s in a small town called Azalea Creek. It’s half an hour outside Asheville.”
I nod and take another bite, my thoughts drifting to the Berkshires, the mountains in Massachusetts I grew up near, and how every time we visited, I felt at peace.
“And have you checked the place out yet?” I ask, wanting to know more.
“Not yet, but I spoke with Ruin Bianchi, and she gave me good vibes. They have a sports medicine doctor on-site, as well as a physiotherapist,” Jordan says.
I raise an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised.
“Yes, Ruin’s the main psychological therapist. But if you feel she’s not a good match for you, they have other therapists you can speak to. They also offer art and cookinglessons, as well as yoga and other activities, as a way to free your mind and connect with your true self.”
I bark a laugh. “Me doing yoga? There’s no way.”
“Don’t knock it until you try it,” Jordan says, grinning.
We keep chatting as we finish our meal, and by the time we say goodbye, I feel better than I’ve felt in a while.
Maybe going out and breathing some fresh air was a good idea after all.
Back at my place, I take off my shoes as soon as I close the door. I grab an energy drink from the fridge before getting comfortable on the couch.
I need to look up this Azalea Creek place and see what Jordan is talking about.
A quick search on my phone shows me beautiful landscapes. The Blue Ridge Mountains are something else. I’ve visited Asheville a couple of times, since one of my teammates has a chalet there, but I’ve never explored outside the city.
Then I look up Serene Lookout, and I’m pleasantly surprised by the facilities. Everything looks brand new. The rooms are spacious and comfortable, like hotel suites. The gym seems to have every piece of equipment I’m used to, and there’s an indoor pool that’ll be perfect for strengthening my arm.
A scan of the staff lineup shows me that everyone working there is qualified.
Without thinking much about it, I send Jordan a text.
Xander: Sign me up. I’m ready to go to Serene Lookout.
Jordan’s reply comes fast.
Jordan: Excellent. I’m proud of you, man. I’ll set everything up and let you know when you can start your treatment.
