“Huh?”
“You’re trying to set me up with your sister to rescue her from her boyfriend. What’s wrong with him?”
“Oh, uh… I probably shouldn’t get into it.”
“Right. I should start at the bottom like everyone else has to. I would have an unfair advantage if I knew too much.”
I smiled at his sarcasm. “He lacks commitment, and he doesn’t appreciate her like he should. That’s all I’ll say.”
“Ah, I see.”
“My sister is a nurse at Legacy Emanuel. You two could swap ER stories.”
“Hmm, now that could be a problem. I prefer dating women outside of my own profession. Life is more interesting that way.”
“I’ll agree with that. My parents are both nurses in the same hospital, but they absolutely love it. It’s not for everyone, I guess.”
“Three nurses in the family and one very squeamish stomach?”
I laughed. “Yes, squeamish is probably an understatement. Normally I would have passed out after seeing Gage’s injury. I think I was just trying to be tough so I didn’t look like an idiot on our first date.”
“Very stoic of you, but he would have felt really bad about it. A circumstance like that could be a very bonding experience. It might have given you his sympathy and compassion for your entire lives together. You should have used it to your advantage.”
“Shoot, it’s too bad I don’t know how to plot things to my advantage.”
He chuckled just as my sister and Wyatt returned to their seats. Dawn was looking us over pretty curiously as she sat down, so I attempted to introduce the three of them.
“My sister, Dawn, her boyfriend, Wyatt, and this is, uh, Dr. Farrell…” That’s all I could think of to say because I didn’t even know his first name.
“Harlan,” he added with a smile. “It’s nice to meet the both of you.”
“Where you from, Ireland?” Wyatt asked.
I almost rolled my eyes but Dr. Farrell—uh, Harlan—answered, “No, but just east in Manchester.”
“That’s England, sweetie,” Dawn told him. “So how do you know Dr. Farrell?” Dawn asked me with a nudge.
“Uh, he’s the one that did Gage’s handiwork. On his arm,” I clarified when she gave me a blank stare.
“Oh! Isn’t that funny?” she said to Harlan. “Their first date and they end up in the ER. Gage is actually Wyatt’s cousin,” she informed him. “Aren’t Gage and Ellie really cute together? It was my idea to set them up, so when they get married and have a bunch of kids, I hope at least one of them is named after me.”
I was so glad the crack of a bat sent the crowd into a synchronized cheer. It was just awkward for my sister to be gushing about my relationship with Gage right after the conversation I’d had with Harlan. But the outfield caught the hit, and the third out sent Gage back onto the mound. I busied myself with the soft pretzel and drink Dawn had brought for me, and watched my boyfriend go to work.
“Well, it was nice to see you, but I should probably leave you alone,” Harlan said after a minute.
I glanced at him and tried to decipher if he really did want to leave. I wasn’t sure if he was leaving for my benefit or his, but he didn’t get up right away, so I assumed that he actually preferred to sit with us.
I held out the pretzel and said, “Want half? You should stay and hang out. Maybe you can check out the pretty little scar you left on my boyfriend’s arm.”
He was pretty amused by that, but he did tear off a portion of my pretzel and said, “Thank you. I’ll owe you one.”
“Nah, it’s okay,” I said quietly. “I didn’t really want it, but Dawn tries to be accommodating. I just say ‘thank you’ and it makes her feel good.”
“Is that your way of putting in a good word for your sister? By telling me how sweet she is?”
“She is really sweet.”
“But so are you if just accept everything from her to make her feel good.” He had a little glimmer in his eye when he smiled at me and it was kind of cute.
I shrugged but didn’t reply.
Gage pitched until the sixth inning and then sat in the dugout. I was a little concerned when the team trainer began wrapping his entire shoulder and elbow with ice.
“What happened? Did he hurt himself?”
Dawn shook her head. “No, it’s just standard to wrap a pitcher’s arm after he’s done pitching. It’s supposed to relieve the muscles and joints after being used so much.”
“Oh,” was all I said.
“I think it’s more beneficial if pitchers keep moving their arm afterward,” Harlan said. “It naturally helps flush out the build up around the joints after they’re done pitching.”
“Is icing it bad?”
“Mmm, no it might not be bad, but studies have shown that it doesn’t actually aid in recovering the muscle from soreness. Cryotherapy has always been a standard form of treating muscles after a strenuous workout or injury, but I don’t believe it actually treats the injury; it only delays the pain.”
“So it’s a waste of time?”
“No, not at all. It keeps any swelling down, and some athletes like the temporary relief of ice massage. But as long as he cools it down properly as well. It’s kind of a disputed subject, I suppose.”
“So brushing my hair more often doesn’t actually make it stronger?”
He laughed. “That’s another debatable practice, but not my area of expertise. You have beautiful hair, though,” he offered.
I cast him a side-glance. “Thank you. So if Gage were under your care would you tell him not to ice his arm?”
“No. I just believe that ice therapy is viewed incorrectly. As long as he doesn’t depend on it to prevent injury it’s fine. He’s better off warming up properly, and cooling down for a certain length of time. Just sitting down and putting ice on it isn’t what’s going to keep it healthy in the long run.”
“So what do you think he should be doing right now to cool it down?”
“Maybe jog a little, keep moving his arm a bit. Nothing that his body won’t use to naturally heal it. It’s just like when we’ve completed a strenuous workout, and our bodies need that cool down period to restore it to its normal state. Now pitching doesn’t seem like much of an extensive cardio workout like some high-energy sports are, but just think about what his arm has been doing for the past six innings. It’s been hurling a ball over and over. His arm, from his shoulder to his fingers, has just been through its own massive workout. The muscles and joints have been exerted beyond normal use. But since it’s become used to it—because it’s been built up over time to take on the workload—it now needs to take the proper steps to restore itself. The body is an amazing piece of work.”
I took all of that into consideration and then said, “Hmm. That’s interesting.”
“It’s just my opinion,” he smiled.
“But still, it does make sense. Do you think it would be beneficial to do a particular cool down after snowboarding? It’s pretty tough on the knees and ankles. Should I be doing something to cool down my joints?”
He gave me a wry smile. “You’re a snowboarder, hmm?”
I nodded.
“Well like you said, skiing and snowboarding are pretty harsh on the knees. You put yourself at risk anytime you participate in strenuous sports. Pitchers tear parts in their arms, they have a surgery to fix it, and then they’re right back out there less than a year later. It all comes with the territory. But what works standard for one person might not be standard for another. Some individuals are built to last, some are not.”
“So when Meg says she has weak ankles, she’s not kidding?”
He gave me a questioning look.
“Oh, just a Disney movie,” I mumbled. “So you’re saying that some people do sports that they aren’t really built for?”
He shrugged. “I wasn’t necessarily claiming that, but yes, I’m sure that’s true. Some people love a sport enough that they’ll just keep fighting
through the setbacks. It’s life, suppose.”
“I’ve torn cartilage in my knees twice and torn ligaments in my wrist and elbow. You think I love snowboarding enough?”
He smiled at me with astonishment. “Yes, I’d say you do. And you’re only…how old? Nineteen, twenty?”
“Twenty.”
“And how do most of these injuries occur? Do you have a lot of accidents on the mountain, or do you just have insufficient strength to your joints?” he chuckled.
“Mm, I’m not sure. I think I just play really, really hard. Because if I had weak joints I’d probably have a lot more injuries than that.”
“So you are truly a hardcore snowboarder.”
“She’s dangerous and out of control,” Dawn interjected. I glanced at my sister scowling at me. She looked at Harlan and added, “She’s crazier than anyone I know up on that mountain. Her next injury is gonna be a broken neck, and I’m not even going to feel sorry for her.”
“Gee, thanks for your compassion,” I told her.
“Hey, I’ve given you my compassion time and time again. And my worry, fret, concern… I think I’ve developed a couple of ulcers because of you.”
“Psst, Ellie,” I heard a voice call. At the same time the lady in front of me turned around and tapped my knee to look toward the dugout. Gage was standing there waiting for my attention, so I excused myself from everybody and trekked my way down.
“Nice game,” I told him.
“Thanks,” he smiled. “You see any of it?”
I gave him a questioning look and saw him look toward the stands to where Harlan was sitting. He and Dawn were conversing with one another.
“Of course I did. Dr. Farrell is here because his brother is on the other team.”
“Oh, yeah? Who is he?”
I realized I didn’t even know, so I shrugged and said, “Uh, I’m not really sure.”
“Hmm, well I was going to ask you a favor, but since you’re busy…”
“Oh, quit,” I laughed. “What is it? I want to do you a favor.”
“Can you get my team jacket out of my truck? I think I left it on the seat.”
“Sure, I can do that.” He handed me his keys and I said, “Why don’t you jog around a bit.”
With a smile he said, “I’m cold because I’ve got ice on me.”
“Yeah, about that… Well, I’ll tell you later. I’ll go grab your jacket.”
“Thanks, Ellie.”
I was almost to Gage’s truck, wondering if he’d actually been jealous that Harlan had been sitting by me, when a car came around the corner pretty fast. With the music blaring I don’t think the driver saw me until he was about ten feet away. He screeched to a stop, and I got out of the way just enough to only get nailed in the thigh with the corner of his car.
Chapter Six
“What the hell!” the driver shouted, getting out of his car.
I had my hands on the hood of the car to support myself after he’d stopped. As it was, I wasn’t sure if I could stand on my left leg.
“What’re you doing standing in the parking lot?!” was the second thing out of his mouth. At least that’s what I preferred to hear, because what he really said had a couple more f-bombs attached to it.
“Standing in the parking lot?!” I finally exclaimed. “I was walking, you jackass! It’s a parking lot! What’re you doing racing around the corner like a moron?!”
Once I got a better look at the guy I felt that I should probably be careful about what I called him. If I were to be judgmental, I’d say that he’d just gotten out of prison. He had tattoos all over his arms and another one on his neck, and the only hair on his head was the black stripe he sported on his chin.
“Oh, you think you’re gonna pin this—”
“Shut up,” another voice said as he got out of the passenger’s seat. He looked like he could have been the driver’s cellmate, but his appearance wasn’t as extreme as his friend’s. His tattoos weren’t as excessive and he didn’t have any piercings that I could see. His hair was pretty short, and he had a dusting of stubble over his chin. He also had this really attractive, smoldering look to him, like he could be one of those tough looking, bad boy fashion models that my sister always gushed over.
He came toward me slowly and asked, “Are you okay?”
I was completely on guard. I didn’t know if this was the part where his false concern for me led to a ride in the trunk and the dumping of my body somewhere no one could find me.
I moved away from the old, junky car and said, “I’m fine.”
“You can’t even put weight on your leg,” he observed. I was surprise by how gentle his voice was, and I didn’t want to admit how attractive his eyes were as he studied me carefully.
“Yes, I can,” I replied, taking two more steps away. I could definitely put my weight on it when I forced myself to, but it didn’t feel too good on my thigh.
“She’s fine,” the other guy retorted. “Let’s go.”
“Is there someone you’re here with?” the second guy asked.
I completely ignored him as I unlocked Gage’s truck and grabbed his jacket. The first guy had gotten into the car already, but the other one was still standing there, waiting for a response. He eyed what I had in my hand for a second, and then said, “Okay, if you can manage on your own…”
I didn’t say anything further and hobbled past the car to return to the stands. I glanced back once to see if they had left, but the second guy was only leaning through the window talking to the driver. I took a deep breath, and once I was out of their view, tried to squat a little to stretch my thigh out somewhat. I was pretty sure I was going to have one nasty bruise within the hour.
Once I thought I could handle walking normal again, I re-entered the ballpark and quickly found Gage to give him his jacket. I was pretty rattled from being nicked by that car, but I was glad that my boyfriend only thanked me and that was that.
Harlan was still sitting where I’d left the group, so I quickly sat down between him and Dawn. My sister made a quick comment about the hit that had just scored a run for the opposing team, but other than that I just quietly watched the next batter.
Until Harlan whispered in my ear, “What the bloody hell happened to your leg?”
I glanced down at my thigh that was next to him, and even though I’d already noticed the tiny tear in my jeans, I wasn’t aware that I was bleeding.
I wanted to freak out.
“Don’t look at it,” he said quietly, covering it with his hand. “Take a deep breath through your nose.”
I did what he said and released it.
“Do it again.”
I took another breath.
“What happened?” he asked, careful not to let Dawn hear.
“You’d better get your hand off my thigh or people are going to be asking questions,” I quietly responded.
He removed his hand and I replaced it with my own.
“Tell me what happened before I make a scene,” he gently threatened.
“I got hit by a car in the parking lot.”
He paused for several seconds. “You mean you hit your leg on a car while you were walking by it?”
“No, an actual car flew around the corner and I barely got out of the way in time.”
“But it hit you?”
“Yes.”
He was quiet for another second and then said, “It’s not broken, then? You walked back here okay?”
“I have no idea.”
“What do you mean you have no idea? You have no idea if it’s broken, or you have no idea if you got here okay?”
I kind of smiled. “I don’t think it’s broken if I walked here, right?”
“No, not right. You can still walk with a broken leg. Meet me outside the front entrance of the stadium in five minutes—” I was about to protest but he said, “You’ll do it or I’ll tell everyone you just got hit by a car.”
He said polite departing words to Dawn and Wyatt, a
nd then he left.
“He’s so nice,” Dawn said instantly. “I love his accent.”
“Mmhmm,” I replied vacantly.
Once five minutes had actually passed, it just didn’t seem long enough. I was so paranoid that someone was going to catch on that I was meeting Harlan in the parking lot. I knew it was ridiculous because he only wanted to ask me questions about the injury, but I wasn’t sure why I had such a guilty conscience.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I mumbled to Dawn.
“Ooh, can you get me a Snickers on your way back?”
“Uh, sure.”
My leg had stiffened up again the second I tried to walk on it, and I had to stop abruptly.
“Oh, what’s the matter?” Dawn asked, fully concerned.
“Uh, I just have a cramp.” I took a second to get used to my weight and said, “It’s fine.”
But it wasn’t fine. Just stepping down the bleachers almost did me in. I clenched my jaw to give myself something to focus on, and somehow made it to the parking lot.
“You look horrible,” Harlan said when he saw me.
“Thanks.”
“I mean you look like you’re in terrible pain.” He had a bag of ice in his hands and he motioned for me to follow him. “I’m just parked right there. You need to sit and put some ice on that.” He knew I was going to make a comment about the ice, so he added, “In this case, ice is deemed necessary.”
“Nice Porsche,” I said as he made me sit in the passenger’s seat.
“Set this right on your thigh for about fifteen minutes.”
“Fifteen minutes? I told Dawn I was going to the bathroom.”
“Well, I guess you’ll have to tell her it took a while.”
I groaned, but Harlan sat in the driver’s seat and began asking me question about what had happened. He was particularly relieved that the driver hadn’t hit me and ran off.
After a while he said, “I want to see it.”
“What?”
“I want to see the injury.”
“What, here?”
He shrugged. “Either here or in the ER. Makes no difference to me.”
I gave him a look and he kind of laughed.
“Oh, come on, Ellie. I’m being a doctor, here. I’ve seen many thighs.”
Summer Swing Page 6