The Perfect Game: A Young Adult Romance (Rosemont High Baseball Book 2)

by Britney M. Mills

  “No problem. Just make sure Nancy knows to change it on the schedule.” John clapped Ben on the back and pointed to my ankle. “I’ve got to help Shirley for a few minutes. Once the machine beeps, take her over to the wall and work on a couple of stretches.”

  John walked away, and I stared at Ben, my mouth dropped open. “You’re going to help me?” I tried to avoid the guilt I felt at seeing his expression drop.

  “Uh, k-kind of. John will be right next to me while we go through your drills. He’ll just be working with the older lady across the room.” Ben pointed, and I turned, trying to locate the woman he was talking about.

  Several people were spread out around the room, some on the tables for the electric stimulation to their injuries, like mine. Others were in the area with balls, boards, and bands, all working to strengthen muscles that were injured. The last group was in the hot and cold pools, one guy even submerged up to his neck in the cold. John was standing next to a frail woman.

  Curious, I looked up at Ben. “How did you become an intern here?”

  Ben shifted his weight from foot to foot, a flicker of emotion playing across his face. “If it were my choice, I’d just be doing schoolwork and baseball, at least until I graduate. I, uh, well, my dad told me I needed a real future, that I couldn’t just rely on baseball for a career. He wanted me to intern at his law office, but I, uh, I’m not good with sitting behind a desk. I like helping people, and this is what I want to do if baseball doesn’t work out.”

  He avoided my gaze, and his words hit home. “I can’t believe you already have an internship. I haven’t even thought about what I want to do with my life.” I inspected my fingernails, sadness sweeping over me. At least his dad cared enough to give him direction. I lifted my gaze. “I’m sorry. My mom feels the same way about volleyball.”

  His eyes lifted to mine, the deep blue of them causing my stomach to flip. Traitor. “Really?” The hope on his face made me smile.

  I nodded. “My dad is supportive, except for the showing-up-and-cheering-me-on part. My mom wishes I would be a supermodel or something like that.”

  Ben gave me a small smile. “My mom and brother come to all of my games. I think my dad has been to two games my entire high school career.” He paused, and I saw his shoulders relax. He’d made it through thirty seconds without stuttering. “He came to the semi-final game this year. The one we lost.” He shook his head, the emotion apparently just as raw as it could have been the day of the game.

  “If your dad is anything like my mom, he probably rubbed in the fact that ‘sports aren’t a sure thing’ and that you ‘need to find a passion that’s more stable.’ I just wish she could see how much volleyball means to me. I mean, maybe I should have a better motivator to keep my grades up, but that’s why I practically killed myself trying to get all the assignments done at the end of the school year.”

  Ben turned and leaned against the edge of my table, folding his arms across his chest. “It’s amazing what the loss of something we love can motivate us to do. I like it here, though. This is what I’d like to major in when I get to college.”

  “You want to watch people in pain?” I asked, grinning at the small joke.

  “I think it’s cool how people can come in broken and eventually leave healed. Or as good as possible.” His eyes had a faraway look, and I suddenly wanted to know more.

  “What caused you to want to go into physical therapy? Have you been hurt before or had some kind of surgery?” I shifted to a sitting position, surprised at how curious I was.

  He shook his head. “No injuries or surgery, although working here gives me a chance to strengthen my arm against injuries. Daniel, my brother, he, uh, had a lot of trouble with motor function and being able to walk when he was younger. Therapists would come in several times a week to work on activities to get his muscles strong enough to walk. I always thought that was so cool, like they were changing a life.”

  I paused, trying to figure out what to say. “That, that’s awesome.” I’d never had anything like that impact my life. The most excitement I’d ever experienced was moving to Pecan Flatts when I was five so my dad could join the Texans. Ben’s story made me long for something similar—a purpose in life other than just playing volleyball and getting mad at my parents for neglecting me.

  Ben stared at me for several seconds, and as I reviewed everything we’d talked about, a connection filled me. As much as I loved my group of friends, they all had people to support them in all their decisions. I’d just found someone who understood what it was like to want something so bad and not have anyone to cheer me on when I finally got it.

  The machine next to me beeped several times, and Ben pulled off the gray heating pad, laying it on the table next to my ankle. I watched as his long fingers moved quickly to pull the pads off my ankles, his fingers brushing my skin causing a tingling sensation. There was so much that made up Ben Clark, and something pulled me to him, like I wanted to keep needling him with questions to learn more about him.

  I hopped off the table like nothing was wrong with my ankle, and the pain shot up in waves. It took a few hops for it to ease, and I found myself able to breathe normally again.

  Ben caught me under the arms. “Let me help you.”

  I grasped onto his upper arm, leaning on him as we covered the distance between the table and the area where John was. We were close to one another, and that same scent from the play wafted up to my nose. I breathed in slowly, not wanting him to think I was some creeper. He just had good taste in cologne.

  Once we made it to the area with medicine balls, stretching bands, and Styrofoam rollers, I was out of breath. “Thank you. I didn’t realize it would be that hard to make it such a short distance without the crutches.”

  Ben smiled, and the combination of his cologne and the light blue eyes caused a surge of attraction to blossom in my chest.

  “Don’t worry. John will help you get back to playing in no time.”

  “Mmmm-hmmm.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. No wonder Penny had gone from a hardcore tomboy to a more feminine athlete with a boyfriend. I shook it off, doing my best to focus on the stretch John showed me on a raised platform. Boys in general were just a surefire way to tears, but Ben was showing me that maybe I’d jumped to the wrong conclusions about every guy in the world.

  We worked through several stretches and then a few strengthening exercises. Ben’s patience helped to keep me calm, even when I felt the pain. His dry sense of humor had me laughing a few times, and I was almost sad to be done with the session.

  I texted my dad as I sat with my leg dangling in the cold bath. Twenty minutes would give him plenty of time to pick me up. When I glanced out the window at the parking lot when I was done soaking, however, there was no sign of the red sports car. I tried to shake it off, hoping to keep the tears at bay. I’d already cried enough over the last week. I didn’t need to continue the waterworks where the world could see.

  Ten

  Ben

  I pretended like I hadn’t been glancing up at Serena while I helped another patient get hooked up to the stimulation machine. She was talking to another girl sharing the cold tub and they were laughing about something, probably with the light dose of sarcasm I knew her for.

  “Ben, go grab Serena and let’s get her ready to head out.” John’s words made me jump, and I wondered how long I’d been staring at her.

  I nodded and strolled over to the small room with the tubs. “John said he’s ready for you, Serena. Let me help you out.” I grabbed a towel from the rack and held it out, waiting for her to lift her foot out of the whirlpool.

  She reached for the towel, but I quickly dried off her foot and then held her upper arm, waiting for her to step down. “Thanks,” she said, red surging to her cheeks.

  “Here, let me help you.” I lifted her arm gently and placed it around my back. One drawback of being so tall was most people couldn’t put their arm around my shoulders.

 
The first step we took, she lost her balance, and her reflex caused her other arm to go around my waist, hugging my middle tightly. It took a few seconds for her to relax. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—I mean, um, I thought I was going to fall again.”

  “I’ve got you,” I said, smiling down at her.

  Her smile in return was hesitant at first, her eyes searching my own for something I couldn’t figure out. She blinked and looked down, her arm nudging me forward like she was ready to go. It took a few steps before we were able to get into a rhythm, making it out to the taping area near the front of the clinic.

  “That was faster than the crutches for sure.” Serena grinned at me as she shifted onto the table and scooted with her back to the wall.

  All I could do was nod. This had been the best forty-five minutes of work ever, and I was sad to see it ending.

  John walked up, pulling a new Ace bandage out of the drawer below, and started wrapping her foot.

  “How long will it take to heal?” Serena asked him.

  “I think you’re at a grade-two sprain. Worse than a quick tweak where you keep playing on it and it starts to feel better. You’ve still got pain coming from it, right?” He looked up at Serena, but she didn’t meet his eyes, concentrating on his hands wrapping the bandage.

  She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess as long as I don’t go jumping off tables,” she glanced up at me with a smile before focusing back on the wrapping, “it’s not horrible.”

  “Good. It’s going to be anywhere from four to eight weeks. Just don’t push it yet. Most people with an injury like yours need at least two months or so before they feel like they can put their full weight on it.”

  I opened the ice machine, not wanting to leave to do anything else while she was still there. After scooping some ice into a plastic bag, I spun it around and wrapped the ends around my fingers, tying it off as I watched John finish wrapping her ankle.

  Once he finished, John said, “I’d say come in at least three times a week for now. The more we can strengthen it, the sooner you’ll be back to normal, which your father requested.”

  “He did?” The surprise on her face made her look more vulnerable than the outer shell of sarcasm she usually wore. But after all I’d learned about her in the past few weeks, especially today, it was understandable. I’d probably feel the same loneliness she felt if my mom didn’t come to all my games. And yet, Serena seemed to be grasping at any sort of love her parents would give her.

  “Yeah, he said to make sure we take every measure to ensure a speedy rehab. The most important part now is to not rush it outside this clinic. You might feel stronger, but you don’t want to do more damage because you pushed harder than your ankle can handle. Just trust the process, and we’ll get you fixed up.”

  Once finished, Serena slid down and grabbed the crutches, looking as though she wanted to throw them across the room.

  John chuckled and looked at me. “Clark, go grab a pair of crutches that are a normal size for Serena.” He turned to Serena. “Using your dad’s old set won’t make it easy to maneuver.”

  “You’ve got that right,” Serena said, smirking. I hadn’t looked at the crutches until John said something, but they were way too tall for her.

  I hurried into the back room, having to sort through a few stacks of different sizes. It would be a lot easier if everything had been organized into certain rows, but I wasn’t going to mess with John’s system. I already had too much to do around the clinic.

  After a few minutes, I found a match and brought them out to her. When she tried to walk with them, her eyes lit up.

  “So much better! Thank you.” She moved in the direction of the receptionist, giving me a quick wave as she stopped for a quick break.

  “Bye,” I said.

  She nodded and grinned. “Thanks for all your help, Ben.”

  That smile got me through the next half-hour of cleaning and sanitizing the tables and machines throughout the clinic. We were assigned to do it periodically throughout the day to maintain cleanliness as the patients came in and out.

  Once I finished, I poked my head into John’s office and said, “I’m heading out. I’ll see you Thursday.”

  “Yeah, man. Of course. If I’m not here when you leave, good luck at the tourney. You’ve got a lot of people cheering you on. Are you starting any of the games?”

  It was hard to believe he cared. I knew I would forever have the support of my mom and Daniel, but most of the crowd at my baseball games was for the rest of my teammates.

  “It’s a possibility. I’ll just have to see what Coach says. Going up against Monmouth would be fun since we smoked them last time. But they didn’t have their best player at the time. I’ve always wanted to see what I could do against him.”

  John stood and rested his hand on my shoulder. “I bet you’d get him. Get out of here. Go cause a little trouble this summer. Just don’t tell your mom I said that.” He pointed at me and chuckled.

  I turned to go, but his voice pulled me back. “And when it comes to Serena, I think you should go for it.”

  I paused, my heart thundering in my ears. “What?”

  “Her dad isn’t the best example of a father, and from today, it sounds like she can be a bit sarcastic, but from everything I’ve heard about her, she’s a good kid.”

  “I-I-I don’t like her like that,” I said, raising my hands in defense. The lie was bitter on my tongue.

  John gave me a knowing smile. “Whatever. I’ll see you later.”

  I said goodbye and headed out the door, replaying Serena’s session to see what clues I’d given to John that I had a crush on Serena. Pulling my keys out of my pants pocket, I fiddled with them and grabbed the one that would start my truck.

  Sobbing to my left caused me to turn my head, and I saw a familiar form sitting on the curb, crutches lying on the cement sidewalk next to her.

  “Serena? Are you all right? What are you still doing here?” I stalked over and squatted down in front of her.

  Wiping away the tears, she took in a deep breath. “I’m so sorry. I don’t usually get so emotional.”

  “Did you call someone to come get you?” I searched her eyes, but she wouldn’t meet mine.

  “Yes, I’ve called and texted my parents several times.” She blinked rapidly, wiping the remaining tears away. “I just—it’s just so frustrating that I always seem to be forgotten or the very last person they think of. One more reason I need this ankle to heal, so I can drive myself.”

  I stood, reaching out both hands. “Let’s go.”

  She started and glanced at my outstretched hands. “Go where?”

  “I can take you home. Or we can go on a drive or something.” I shrugged. I hadn’t thought it all out just yet. I could show up later to Nate’s house. It wasn’t like we had a set plan for what we were doing.

  A few more seconds of hesitation passed before she reached up, her small hands grasping mine as she stood. It felt like a shockwave passed through the nerves in my hands, and I liked it.

  I leaned down and picked up the crutches, holding them with my left hand while I supported her with my right. “Just take it easy here. I’m that truck over there.”

  Serena looked in the direction I motioned with my head and giggled. “Wait, that’s your truck?”

  A wave of embarrassment passed through me. “Yep. That would be mine.”

  “I saw it the other day at the park, but didn’t pay attention to how small it was. How do you fit in there?” She looked between me and the truck, surprised.

  “That’s a great question. I can’t tell you how many bruises I’ve gotten on my knees from hitting the dashboard when I get in.”

  “Why not get a bigger car or truck? You deserve one that will fit all of you.” Serena looked up at me, her eyes bright with laughter, and I stumbled a bit, catching myself before we both went down.

  A bunch of reasons passed through my mind as to why I couldn’t get a different vehicle. “I have to save just a
bout everything I make here for gas and insurance. My dad is very into the idea of being self-sufficient. He bought the truck for me, but I have to take care of the rest. Sort of like a rental, I guess.”

  I opened the passenger door for her and then placed the crutches in the bed of the truck. When she was in, I shut the door and hurried around to get behind the wheel. For the first time in a while, I didn’t slam my knee against anything when getting in.

  “Your head practically touches the ceiling,” Serena said, laughing. She leaned over and put her hand on my head, flattening my hair. Her touch sent chills through me. “You’ve got an inch or so. How do you even see out the windshield?”

  Hunching over, I said, “Like this.” I turned and flashed her a grin.

  “If I were you, I’d request something different, citing future scoliosis problems.”

  I waved my hand. “Yeah, then he’d just send me to work earlier to get that problem fixed by John.”

  Serena laughed even harder than she’d done before, and I matched her, tears sliding out of my eyes because I couldn’t control them.

  She directed me to her house, and as we drove down her cul-de-sac, I recognized the area.

  “You live by Nate Everton?” I asked as I pulled into her driveway and put the gear in park. I was sad the ride couldn’t be longer.

  She unbuckled her seat belt and turned to me. With a nod, she said, “Yeah, he’s lived there since before we moved in, and that’s been about eleven years, I think.”

  I chuckled. “Well, that works out because I’m heading over there right now. We’re having a guys’ night.”

  “Thank you—for the ride, for listening to me jabber on, for everything,” Serena said, pink tinging her cheeks. “And thanks for making me laugh. I definitely needed it today. Hopefully, you don’t get scoliosis.”

  “I think my abs might be sore tomorrow from all the laughing.” I patted my stomach, feeling self-conscious suddenly. I was basically a tall, awkward teen, not someone Serena usually went for with big muscles and washboard abs. “I hope you feel at least a little better. Let me know if I can help you out at all, maybe send a meme when you’re in pain.”