Page 73 of Going All the Way (Knights of Passion)

“Tough.”

The thin, vinyl padding gave a little as Stacia sat on the table, her backside pressed against his leg. She touched his shoulder and he wrenched his arm away, sending fresh darts of pain down his arm and up his shoulder. He cursed loudly. “Get the fuck away.”

“No swearing will push me away, Jason. What can I do?”

The pain, the sadness in her voice tore at his heart, ripping it open anew. He opened his eyes, wincing inside at the sympathy in her eyes. “Not a goddamn thing. You can’t fix this, Stacia. No one can. My career is over. My life is over. I don’t need you anymore. I have nothing left to give.”

She reached out, tentatively, then pulled back before she could touch him, her heart reflected in the sheen of tears in her eyes. “I don’t believe that. We can find the best doctor. He can fix your shoulder. You’ll play again.”

He slid off the table, bracing the ice and bandage with his other hand, putting the table between the two of them. “You don’t get it. I was always one bad break away from a career-ending injury. I was on borrowed time. No doctor could perform this miracle.” The pain inside was a living, hot ball of magma looking for an outlet. Mount Vesuvius waiting for the right moment to erupt. The pain bubbled over and burst out.

“What do you care? We’re done. We had our fun, but you did what you had to. My image is wonderful. The world loves me now. They’ll be sad for a day or so and then move on. That’s the way of the world.” Bitterness and anger boiled over, seeking and finding a target. He turned his back on her, a deliberate exclusion. “Go running home to Daddy. Work on his campaign; whatever it is you do. Go back to your life and leave me to mine, because we had nothing, Stacia. This was just sex and business. We both got what we needed at the time. You scratched your little itch and rebelled against Daddy. I had a few more months of a career, a tease that will haunt me the rest of my life. It’s over. Everything is over.”

The pain had finally finished, the anger gone. He sagged against the other training table, suddenly so tired, bone-weary. He wiped his face with his good hand, surprised to see wetness on the hand. “Just leave me alone, okay? Just leave.”

He could feel the pain in her gaze, the hurt, the sadness. But he had nothing left for her, nothing to help her, nothing to offer her. It was better to make the final break. Better for both of them. She shouldn’t be saddled with an old baseball player who had nothing but memories and most of them fucked up at that. She needed to move on with her life. He would only hold her back.

“Jason, if you ever need anything, you just have to call.”

The soft catch in her voice made him wince, a pain that went far deeper than the shoulder, than the loss of his career. He steeled himself against it, waiting a few moments before opening his eyes, hoping that maybe she had ignored him. Maybe she had stayed.

It was too late. She was gone.

*

Jason sat onthe exam table, avoiding the x-rays on the machine. The door opened and the doctor walked in, reading his chart. He sat in the chair facing Jason and looked grim.

“I told you last year that your shoulder couldn’t take another injury. This injury, the dislocation, was beyond a regular one. It was catastrophic. We could try surgery again to tighten the muscles and tendons, rehab to strengthen it, but the bottom line is you’ll never play baseball at the pro level again.”

Jason nodded. The numbness he had lived with the past two days suppressed any emotion. “So, that’s that.” He hopped off the table. “Can I get dressed now?”

The doctor stared at him. “Jason, did you hear me?”

“Yeah, I’m never playing baseball again. My life is over. Anything else?” He struggled to put his button-down shirt on, clumsily fumbling the buttons with his left hand.

“Well, you should consider the surgery either way.”

“What for? It won’t make a bit of difference.”

“It will stabilize the joint and reduce the pain.”

“Fine. Schedule it. I’ll be there. I have nowhere else to be,” he replied, bitterness tinging his every word. He stalked out of the office and headed home, the numbness clouding his thoughts. What the hell was he going to do for the next forty or fifty years? Relive old memories? Drink his life away? Be trotted out for old-timers’ day?

No fucking way.

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