Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
“Thanks for cheering me on. I know you were only putting on a show for my ex, but it felt good.”
“That wasn’t for Bruce. I was cheering because you were awesome out there, Miller.” He gingerly touched my pitching arm and asked, “How do you feel after all of that?”
“My shoulder is throbbing. I went a lot harder this game than I usually do.”
“Can I do anything to help?”
“Nah, I’ll be fine,” I said, as I scooped up my backpack and stuck the mitt and water bottle inside it. “Let’s get going. Daria is waiting to give us a ride to the pub.”
The sports bar was a five-minute drive from the playing field. As soon as we arrived, Collie hurried to the restroom, and Daria grabbed my arm and said, “Tell me everything! How long have you and Collie been going out?”
“We’re not. I met him yesterday.” I gave her a quick rundown of how we met, ending with, “So, obviously, I had to let him spend the night, since I’m holding his home hostage in my garage.”
“Did anything happen between you two last night?”
“No.”
“Why the hell not?”
“We agreed that we were just going to be friends.”
“You do know that there’s such a thing as friends with benefits, right?” When I didn’t reply, she said, “I’ve been worried about you, Miller. You got dumped almost a year ago, and since then you’ve been as celibate as a monk. That’s not how you move on from a broken heart.”
“I don’t want things to get complicated between Collie and me,” I said, “and I really don’t want to lead him on.”
“He’s a full-grown adult, Miller. If you tell him up front that it’s just casual sex, he’ll understand.”
“That’s the other thing, he’s only twenty-seven. He’s too young for me.”
Daria rolled her eyes. “Now you’re just making excuses. My last girlfriend was ten years older than me, and you didn’t bat an eye when I told you that. So, who cares if he’s twenty-seven and you’re thirty-six? It’s not like he’s nineteen!”
“Come on, let’s find our team. I’m thirsty.” She sighed at the way I changed the subject, but she let it drop and followed me through the crowd.
The bar was even louder and busier than usual. The Giants were playing an away game, which was being shown on eight TVs around the bar. Luckily, my coworkers had managed to find two tables, which they’d slid together.
When they saw me, they all cheered. I squeezed in on the end, just as a waiter arrived with three pitchers of beer. Someone poured me a glass and stuck it in my hand as Daria shouted, “To Miller, our secret weapon!” Everyone raised a toast, and then an animated debate broke out about how many orders of super nachos we should all get to share.
A few minutes later, Collie appeared at my side. I yelled over the noise, “Everyone, this is Collie,” and they shouted a chorus of hellos. I didn’t bother trying to introduce all of them in turn, because it would have required entirely too much yelling.
Collie was holding a baggie full of ice, and he handed me a glass of water as he said, “I have Advil in my bag. Would you like some?” I nodded, and he handed me the baggie. “The bartender was nice enough to give me this. I thought it might help to ice your shoulder.”
“It would, but I don’t think I can hold it in place.”
“I’ve got that covered.” He dug around in his bag and put a bottle of ibuprofen on the table before producing a long, black scarf. He gently touched my shoulder and asked, “Is this where it hurts?”
“A little lower.”
He quickly wrapped the scarf around my chest and shoulder and tied it off, so it was holding the ice pack right where I needed it. Then he asked, “Is that okay?”
“It’s perfect.” As he shook two pain pills into my hand, I told him, “You’re really good at this stuff.”
“Well, yeah. I spent the last decade taking care of my aunt. When she first started showing symptoms, she’d trip and fall a lot and bang herself up. I took a first aid class so I’d know how to help her.”
After I washed down the pills with some water, he pulled up a chair right beside me. Then he pointed across the bar to the axe throwing section and asked, “Are you still thinking about doing that?”
“Not after the number I did on my shoulder today. I don’t even want to throw a dart. But I’m sure a few of my coworkers are going to do it, so you could join them if you’ve decided you want to try it.”
“Oh, hell no. If I tried to throw an axe, my stick arms would rip clean out of their sockets. When the axe hit the target they’d be dangling off the handle, like two limp spaghetti noodles.”