The Perfect Play by Cookie O’Gorman

CHAPTER 9: Chase

Charlie's mouth was open in a little 'o'.

She was ogling me. There was no other word for it. I couldn't say I minded. If the look of appreciation on her face was anything to go by, all those protein shakes, the years of eating healthy, the hard workouts, they'd all been worth it.

I'd always kept in shape for baseball.

My body was just a side effect of wanting to be and play my best.

But it felt good, having her eyes on me like that.

Charlie blinked and then shook her head as she walked forward.

"You can stop flexing now," she muttered.

I nearly laughed. "I'm not."

"Seriously, relax. If your muscles are tense, it'll mess up the exam."

"I promise I'm not flexing."

Charlie sniffed. "So your shoulders and arms are naturally that toned, and your abs are that ripped even at rest? Please Chase, stop lying. There's no need to impress me. I'm your therapist."

I gave her a slight smile before tightening my muscles.

"Like I said, I wasn't flexing," I repeated. "But now, I am."

Her expression didn't change. But the slight flush suffusing her cheeks was like winning some kind of award I hadn't known I'd wanted until right this very second.

"Also, I don't lie. Never saw the point."

"Hmm," Charlie said.

"Out of curiosity…are you impressed yet?" I asked.

She rolled her eyes at that. "You proved your point, O'Brien. Put those guns away, and let's do this."

Grinning, I relaxed. "As you wish."

Charlie started at my shoulder, palpating it, testing the muscles there. Next, she held my elbow as she straightened then bent my arm, feeling the joint contract and release. She ran her hand down my forearm to my wrist where she had me rotate it.

"Looks good so far," she said. "Could you lie face down on the table for me?"

I nodded, getting onto the table, wondering why I still felt tingles running up and down my skin from her touch. That had never happened with Dr. T. But the doc never touched me quite as lightly or with as much care as Charlie did then. I felt her fingers running along my neck to my shoulders.

"You're carrying a lot of stress here," she said.

I sighed in response.

"Have you been throwing at all?"

"Yeah," I said.

"More than usual?"

I nodded, thinking about the other night and how I'd pushed myself to limit. "Have to be ready to get back in the game."

"Does it always feel so tight?"

"Just after I've pitched for a while."

She didn't say anything at first, but her fingers started pressing against me, releasing some knots I hadn't known were there. I groaned in reaction when she hit a particularly sensitive place on my shoulder.

Charlie stopped immediately.

"Does that hurt?" she asked.

"No, it feels amazing," I said, and her hands started moving again. "My other therapist wasn't big on massage. He said it wasn't necessary."

I could hear the disapproval in her voice. "Some PTs are like that. They give you a ton of exercises to strengthen the muscle which is awesome. But massage is just as important. The benefits to your body can't be overstated."

My eyes had closed at some point, and I could only sigh in response.

"If I had my oils with me, this would feel even better," she said.

"I don't know, Charlie," I mumbled. "Feels good to me."

I heard her chuckle, and after another couple minutes, her touch was gone.

"Okay, we're done," she said. "You can sit up and put your shirt on."

Popping one eye open, I looked up at her. "Are you sure? That was pretty fast. Maybe you should do a longer examination, just to be completely thorough."

Charlie shook her head. "I got everything I need."

"Whatever you say."

I swung my body up into a sitting position. The first thing I noticed was that my shoulders and neck felt lighter, better than they had in months. As I bent my arm, testing how that felt, there was distinctly less stress. I couldn't believe the difference Charlie had made in only a few minutes.

"How do you feel?" she asked, and I realized she was still watching me.

"Good," I said in surprise. "Really good. Thanks, Charlie."

"No thanks needed," she said. "That's my job now, remember?"

"Well, I appreciate you agreeing to be my personal PT."

She shrugged. "Dr. Meismer definitely surprised me. We didn't talk about any of this beforehand, but the deal was too good to pass up."

I smiled, remembering the exchange between her and the professor. "You really sweet-talked him."

"No," Charlie said, "I just told him what I wanted. It's one of the principles I live by. If you want something in life, you have to ask for it. Otherwise, you probably won't get it."

"Wise words," I said. "Something tells me you get what you want a lot."

"Always," she said with a shrug as if it wasn't even in question. "Also…you should really put your shirt on. The room might be reserved, so we need to head out."

Heat filled my cheeks. Dang. I was blushing. It was something I'd done my whole life which was lame. But maybe not as lame as having a girl ask you to get dressed—twice.

Maybe I'd imagined the whole ogling incident.

As I stood and crossed the room to retrieve my shirt from the chair where I'd left it, I caught Charlie eyeing me. Or more specifically my back. I definitely flexed then—but cut it out as soon as I realized. What was I even doing? I wasn't Baylor. My twin would've milked this situation for all it was worth. Bay would've already flirted Charlie into a daze, gotten her number and set up a date for this weekend. The thought made me frown as I shucked on my shirt.

"There," I said, "all dressed."

I thought I heard her sigh and say, "Such a pity," under her breath, but I couldn't be sure.

As we got to the door, I stopped and turned to face her.

"Guess I'll see you at the game," I said.

"You will," Charlie said and ran a hand through her long blonde hair. "But just so you know, I despise baseball. Sports in general really. It's nothing personal. Anything where I have to be outdoors, getting hot and sweaty, besides tanning on the beach is not my idea of fun."

"Noted," I said. "But maybe baseball will grow on you."

She gave me a dubious look. "Yeah, not going to happen."

"You never know."

"Actually, I do," she said. "That's something you'll learn about me, Chase O'Brien. I'm very confident in my own thoughts and abilities. Speaking of, considering what I gathered from the exam and what you told me, I think it would be best if I work on you after the games. A massage will help loosen up your muscles, and I can take stock, see if there are any changes in your arm, that kind of thing. But I'll be there the whole time just in case."

I nodded. "Sounds good. Was there anything else?"

"No, I think that's all."

"Thanks again, Charlie," I said. "I enjoyed having your hands on me."

My God. Had I actually just said that?

The gleam in Charlie's eyes told me that yes. Yes, I had.

Knowing my face was on fire but unable to leave it there, I said, "What I meant to say is that your touch, it's really soothing."

There. That was better.

Charlie bit her lip, and I got the feeling she was trying hard not to laugh.

"Glad you enjoyed it," she said. "And please, don't be embarrassed. It's not like seeing you shirtless was a hardship, O'Brien."

With a nod, I walked away before I could do something stupid like blush again.

There was a fifty-fifty chance that I flexed as I left.

Charlie's words, though, definitely put a smile on my face.

#

By the time Thursday's game rolled around, I wasn't smiling anymore. This was supposed to be it. My big comeback. The stands were packed. My team was playing awesome, and I…well, I'd been doing fine at the beginning.

First inning: I was in the zone.

It had felt good to pitch, getting those first three strikes. The next three were cake. And by the time I knocked out my third batter, I felt on top of the world. Then my boys put some runs on the board early. We were off to a fantastic start.

Second inning: I pitched again. This time the strikes-outs were a little harder. I threw more balls than usual, but those could be put down to nerves. At least, that was what I tried to tell myself. The Wolves did great when it was our turn to bat. We got a couple more runs, increasing our lead.

The third inning was where it all went to hell.

Gonzaga's first batter managed to get a base hit. I shook it off, rolled the kinks out of my shoulder. It was just a single. Nothing to worry about. But then the second batter stepped up to the plate. I accepted the sign from Archer. When the ball left my fingers, I knew the pitch was bad. The ball went in the dirt, but luckily Archer stopped it. Taking a deep breath, I got ready to go again. This pitch was beautiful. Fastball, straight down the middle.

Okay, just a few more of those, and I'm golden.

Pre-injury I was pitching a hell of a lot more than I had today with near-perfect accuracy. I just had to stick it out. My whole body was tense as I wound up, and then…

The ball went wide, hitting the guy in the shoulder.

"Dammit," I muttered.

I could count on one hand the number of times I'd walked anyone let alone having hit a player with a wild pitch.

Jeez, what was wrong with me?

Archer looked concerned, and as he glanced to the dugout, I followed his gaze. Coach stood there, her face set in stone. She gave no sign to Archer. I, however, got a nod. Stay in, the gesture said. Alright, I thought, two on base, no outs. It was time to dig deep and recover my mojo.

Unfortunately, it didn't happen.

The next guy to bat was big, obviously one of Gonzaga's power hitters if size was anything to go by. I nodded when Archer gave the signal. The ball was supposed to be fast, but it seemed to move in slow motion.

Apparently, the batter thought so, too, because he hit it deep into center field. If it wasn't for TJ Perez's quick feet and a spectacular catch that could've been bad.

Something felt off. Maybe it was my arm, maybe something else. But I was struggling. Baseball and struggle weren't two words I usually put together, so I wasn't sure how to handle it. A few more base hits, and two runs scored, narrowing our lead. By some miracle, I managed to get one guy out—on a full count. Then Archer saved me, catching a pop fly behind home plate. Honestly, it felt like mercy to go to the dugout.

"Hey, nice job," Archer said. "Way to gut it out."

I frowned but nodded.

"Are you kidding?" Snider, who played outfield and was a senior like Archer, shook his head. "Chase was sucking majorly. That performance just dropped our lead to within striking distance."

"Guess that means you'll actually have to get a hit," Dex said.

"I wouldn't hold my breath," Baylor put in. "I don't think Snider's hit anything in a good long while."

"Hey, screw you," Snider said. "You know I'm right."

"What happened out there, Chase?" TJ said, coming over to sit next to me on the bench. "No disrespect or anything. But I thought your arm was better."

"Me, too," I mumbled. "Thanks for the assist. You must have springs in your feet, Perez. That catch was amazing."

TJ grinned. "I do what I can, when I can. You know I got you."

"You wouldn't have to save him if Chase was pitching like he used to," Snider griped, but I couldn't even be mad. He was one-hundred percent right.

"Watch it," Archer said quietly. "This is a team. No one player is to blame for a win or a loss. And we're still up by two if you hadn't checked."

He came closer and lowered his voice so only I could hear.

"How is your arm?" he said.

"A little tight, but fine," I replied.

"You want to keep going? Or should we bring in a relief pitcher?"

I gave a tense shrug. "That's up to you."

Another first. Archer didn't usually ask anyone anything when it came to game decisions—except maybe our mom. As Coach, she ultimately called the shots, but Archer was team captain. She trusted him and his judgment.

When it was time for us to take the field for the fourth inning, we were still up by two.

"So?" Archer said. "You staying in?"

"Not sure," I said. "I want to, but something feels off."

Baylor stopped next to me. "What's up?"

"Chase doesn't know if he should keep pitching."

My twin's eyes widened. "But…it's only been three innings. Chase, you never pitch less than four. Heck, you're usually good for all nine."

"Yeah," Archer said, still looking at me, "but it's his first game back."

"So what?" Baylor said then threw me a look. "You're pitching. End of discussion."

Archer's eyes narrowed as they swiveled to my twin. "I don't think we should push him."

"The doc said he's ready." Baylor threw up his hands. "Don't you get it, Arch? A push is exactly what he needs."

Coach (aka Mom) came over then.

"What's happening here?" she said, looking between the three of us.

"Baylor thinks Chase should stay in," Archer said. "I'm thinking he might need to sit this one out."

She nodded then looked to me. "And what do you say, Chase?"

"I'm…not sure," I said.

Her head tilted as her gaze bore into mine. "That's not like you. You're usually confident about everything, especially when it comes to ball."

"I know." I frowned. "It's just I thought my arm was ready. But now…"

Baylor scoffed. "If this is about what Snider said, ignore him. He's always been jealous of you."

"I have not," Snider said heatedly.

"Oh yeah, that's right. You're jealous of anyone with the last name 'O'Brien'. My bad."

"Baylor," Coach said sternly. The rebuke there was a mixture of head coach of the Wolves and pure motherly disapproval. My twin folded like a leaf.

"Sorry," he said to Snider, which made the other boy roll his eyes.

Mom studied me for another moment, then…

"Bay," she said, "you go in instead. Give Chase a break."

"But—"

She cut Baylor off with a look. "Let's go, Wolves. Time to play ball."

And that was the end of it.

Decision made.

I didn't know whether to be angry…or relieved.

"Jeez Chase. I know you had a bad inning," Baylor said as he pulled on his glove, "but don't you want the chance to redeem yourself?"

Hell yes, I did, I thought.

But I also wanted the team to win.

And on this day, I wasn't sure I could deliver.

"You pitch," I said. "I'll rest and be ready next time."

"Alright," he said, "though I still think it should be you."

Archer gave me a nod. "You played great, Chase, especially for your first game back. It'll be even better next time."

I desperately hoped he was right.

In the end, our team won, without much thanks to me. Charlie was there after the game like she'd promised. She asked me questions about my arm—how it was feeling, if there were any specific areas of discomfort etc.—and gave me a massage. In my mind, I knew it should've felt awesome.

But I was numb.

Inside and out.

Even Charlie's touch wasn't doing much for me.

And now, I'd have to go to the after-party Emmy had arranged to celebrate my return. A party—that I did not want to go to—for my non-existent comeback—which had started promising then turned into an epic fail.

If I wasn't so numb, I would've kicked something.