Free Double Play by Jen Estes Page A

already got enough raised eyebrows
     over the season about their platonic relationship. She didn’t need
     to start another rumor today.
     
     

Chapter 7
    Cat clutched the
     gift basket in her arms as the elevator glided up to the third
     floor. The only other passenger was a doctor who looked like he’d
     just gotten off of a thirty-six hour shift. Cat watched him fixate on her black satin pumps , which were
     spastically tapping against the elevator floor. She stopped, giving
     him an apologetic smile that he didn’t return. Turning her attention to the oversized
     basket , she rearranged
     the various packages of sunflower seeds, making sure the bag of
     dill pickle flavoring was right in front. Ryan had always kept a
     package on the top shelf of his locker in the clubhouse so she
     figured it was his favorite. It was also the only thing she could think of that he
     liked besides baseball, and she figured the irony of a bucket of
     Rawlings balls wouldn’t be appreciated by the injured pitcher. The
     elevator opened and she crept toward room 326. The door was wide
     open but she knocked softly before taking a step inside the sunny
     room.
    “ Ryan?”
    “ Cat?”
     He wiggled up in the hospital bed. His dark-blond hair had been freshly washed and tucked
     behind his ears, but his unshaven face sprouted the beginnings of a
     sandy beard. “Hi.”
    The hospital room
     was packed with flowers, stuffed animals—namely the team mascot, a
     bear named Sergeant Southpaw—and balloons. Ryan’s wife fluffed the
     pillow behind his head and crossed her arms. Cat recognized the
     former model from the Soldiers’ Wives food drive held over the
     summer.
    “ Honey, will you give us a second? This is the team
     reporter.”
    Cat smiled at
     her. “Hi, Carmen.”
    Carmen flipped
     her shiny ebony hair
     over her shoulder. “How many more interviews do you have to do
     today? This is the third already.”
    “ No,
     not that kind of reporter. She’s the one from last night. The
     reporter whose apartment the poker game was at.”
    Cat cringed and
     squeezed the gift basket a little tighter. That’s what she’d be
     known for from now on. Not “that sportswriter who exposed a drug
     conspiracy in Las Vegas,” not “the woman who took down a dirty
     agent in Santa Domingo,” not even “that reporter with a great
     rack.” From now on she’d be the reporter who held an unsanctioned
     poker game that broke the star pitcher’s arm.
    “ Oh.”
     Carmen narrowed her almond-shaped eyes at Cat and moved around the bed
     to get in her face, pressing her thin body against the oversized
     wicker basket. “The doctor said there’s a chance he might have
     nerve damage. You realize he’s a free agent this year? Now his
     agent will be negotiating a busted arm.”
    “ It
     wasn’t his pitching arm.”
    “ That’s not the point!” Carmen’s eyes flashed. “He’s damaged
     goods and no team worth a crap is going to chance it. I was
     supposed to be on my way to Beverly Hills or Manhattan. Now I’m
     going to be stuck in this river rathole for the next three
     years.”
    “ Carmen, stop.”
    She swirled
     around to him. “You promised me city lights.”
    Ryan Brokaw was
     from a Canadian village just on the other side of the border.
     Buffalo was city lights to him. The Soldiers had tried all summer
     long to get him to sign an extension, but he’d opted out. Now Cat
     was beginning to see why.
    “ I
     understand you’re upset, but I wasn’t even part of the game last
     night.”
    On her way out,
     Carmen rolled her eyes and shoved Cat aside. Cat waited until the
     sound of the woman’s six-inch stilettos clomping down the hallway had faded down
     before stepping to Ryan’s bedside. She sat the basket on his
     nightstand.
    “ Ryan,
     I am so sorry about your arm and … everything.”
    “ It’s
     not your fault.”
    Can I
     get that in writing?
    “ Maybe, but I feel so bad that—”
    “ Cat,
     just