Playing to Win

haven’t said anything,” he said, focusing his gaze on her. “What do you think?”
    She blinked and held her notebook close to her chest. “Me?”
    “Yeah.”
    “I’m not in charge of your recovery. There are people here with much more experience than me.”
    “You’ve watched my therapy, haven’t you?”
    “Yes.”
    “What do you think?”
    They all turned to her, waiting. She finally shrugged. “I think your team is right. You’ll pitch.”
    “My arm is stiff.”
    She moved forward and he got a good look at her. Despite the ugly uniform, she was pretty. Really dark hair and stunning blueeyes and a mouth that he was definitely noticing now that she’d opened it.
    “Because you’re babying it, because you won’t give it your all. Your therapists know what they’re doing, but you fight them at every turn.”
    As soon as she said it, her eyes widened. Max crossed his arms and Garrett could tell he was irritated.
    Garrett wasn’t. His lips quirked. “Go on.”
    “Look, I didn’t mean to insult you.”
    “Yeah, you did. You’ve sat back quiet for all these months and you obviously have something on your mind. Spill it.”
    She looked up at Max, who shook his head.
    “Don’t look at him,” Garrett said. “Tell me what I’m doing wrong.”
    She sat next to him on the bench and laid her notebook down, her gaze lifting to his.
    “Fine. You’re argumentative, confrontational, and a general pain in the ass to deal with. Honestly, no one wants to work with you because you fight your recovery. Half of healing is mental and your head is the biggest obstacle to getting back on the mound.”
    Huh. He looked up at the rest of the group, who all did their best to avoid his gaze. “I see.”
    But when he looked back at—he had no idea what her name was. “What’s your name?”
    “Alicia.”
    “Okay, Alicia. You think you can make me a pitcher again?”
    She gave him a confident smirk. “I know I can, if you pull your head out of your ass and work with me.”
    He liked her confidence. He liked her. She sure as hell was better looking than the rest of the sports medicine group. And she smelled good.
    “Alicia,” Max warned. “Why don’t you head up to the office and I’ll finish up here with Garrett?”
    Alicia nodded, then stood and left the room.
    Garrett laughed, the first time he’d laughed in a long damn time. “It’s okay, Max. I like her. She’s honest.”
    He’d never noticed her much before because she’d either been an observer or working with another player. As soon as the door closed, he turned to Max.
    “I want her in charge of my therapy.”
    “No,” Phil said, interjecting himself into the conversation. “As your doctor, I’m advising against it. Max is the head of sports medicine for the team. He’s the best. Alicia doesn’t have the experience he has.”
    “I don’t give a shit if she’s the water girl. She’s confident. She’s a sports medicine specialist, isn’t she?”
    “Well, yes,” Max said.
    “Then I want to work with her.”
    “You have a multimillion-dollar arm, Garrett. I’m not entrusting it to her.”
    Garrett stood and stretched, then looked at Manny Magee, the St. Louis Rivers coach, who’d been sitting in the corner of the room, silently taking it all in. “These guys have all been working on me for months and I haven’t seen the results needed to throw a single goddamn pitch. I want her to work with me.”
    Manny stood and ambled over. He was tough, and always honest, so he knew Manny would give it to him straight. “That’s because she’s right. Physically, you’re healing fine from the injury. A lot of your problem is you’re resisting the treatment.”
    Maybe Manny was right, but he doubted it. What he needed was a new therapist. If Alicia and her smart mouth could get the job done, then maybe his career wasn’t over.
    He looked at Manny—at all of them.
    “I need a change. What we’re doing isn’t working. And maybe someone new can help with that.”
    “I don’t give a damn if a circus clown works on your therapy, aslong as you’re on the mound opening day,” Manny said. “Just be ready for the season. We need your arm.”
    SHIT. SHIT. SHIT. ALICIA MASSAGED THE GIANT HEADACHE that had taken refuge between her eyes and counted down the minutes until her boss entered the office and fired her.
    She’d always had a smart mouth, always spoke first and thought later. But to insult the entire St. Louis Rivers medical