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)
Miller grinned at the nickname and told me, “I dated a guy for two and a half years when I was in college, but he dumped me when I injured my shoulder.”
“Was that literally why he broke up with you?”
“I think so. He was always talking about our future, and what it was going to be like once I was playing in the majors. But as soon as we found out my injury had ended any chance of that career, he made an excuse about us growing apart and ran for the hills.”
“He probably wanted to be a pampered sportsball wife and spend your exorbitant major league baseball salary.”
“You may be right.”
“Was he a giant blond Ken doll like Doctor Bruce?”
“He was a short redhead with glasses.”
“Okay,” I said. “Maybe I believe that you don’t have a type.”
“Told you.”
“Besides the gold digging, clout chasing fame fucker, did you have a lot of baseball groupies?”
“Not really. I was good at what I did, but I was never one of those guys. You know?”
“No.”
Miller fished around for how to explain it. “Some guys on my team were flashy. Outgoing. The life of the party. They were golden boys, and there were always a lot of hangers-on who wanted to bask in their glow. I wasn’t like that. I pretty much just showed up, pitched a good game, and went home again.”
“Even so,” I said, “I bet there were plenty of people who wanted to get with you.”
“I don’t know. Maybe. All of that feels like a lifetime ago. When I think back to high school and college, I feel like I’m reliving somebody else’s memories.”
“That sounds like an episode of a sci-fi TV show. The X Files, maybe. Or no, The Twilight Zone.”
“I love both of those shows.”
“Me, too! I watched a ton of TV with Aunt Sue, because she couldn’t do much else. She was a huge sci-fi nerd, so we had DVD box sets of both of those series, and a bunch of others. Star Trek: The Next Generation was another one of our favorites. I’ve seen every episode way too many times.”
“Honestly, same.” Miller seemed happy to discover we had something in common.
We both launched into dueling Captain Picard imitations, trying to perfectly dial in Patrick Stewart’s accent and enunciation. This mostly consisted of cussing out Wesley over and over again, which made us laugh.
Miller ended up totally nailing it, and once I conceded victory, I muttered, “Man, now I really want to watch some Star Trek TNG.”
He reached for the remote. “Let’s do it.”
My mouth felt dry, so I said, “While you cue it up, I’m going to get a drink. Do you want anything from the kitchen?”
“No, thanks.”
I got up and crossed the room, but I came to a stop when my heart started to race. I braced my hand against the doorframe as my vision blurred.
The last thing I remembered before everything went black was Miller shouting my name.
6
Miller
Collie looked tiny and fragile in the hospital bed. An IV dripped steadily into his arm, and a monitor displayed his vital signs.
I’d been staring at the zigzag pattern of his heartbeat for hours before he finally woke up and looked around. When he saw me, he whispered, “Miller.” His voice was weak and scratchy. “What’s going on?”
I got up and took his hand. “You’re in a hospital, because you passed out.”
“How long was I unconscious?”
“A few minutes. You came to in the ambulance, but you were extremely agitated, so they had to sedate you. If you feel groggy, it’s probably because the sedative is still wearing off.”
“I don’t remember an ambulance.” He shut his eyes. I thought he might have fallen asleep, but after a minute he asked, “What time is it?”
“It’s almost one a.m. I lied and said I was your husband, so the nurses would let me spend the night in your room. I thought you’d be scared if you woke up alone in an unfamiliar place.”
“I’m so glad you stayed. I would have been terrified.” After another pause, he asked, “Do the doctors know why I passed out?”
“They think they do.”
He opened his eyes and met my gaze. “What was it?”
I gently brushed his hair back. “It’s better if you hear it from a doctor. They’ll be able to answer your questions and—”
“Why? Is it bad?” His eyes went wide. For the first time, I saw that they were a true gray. “It is, isn’t it? You look so serious.”
As much as I’d wanted a doctor to explain this to him, he was getting himself worked up, so I said, “You have a congenital heart defect, which forces your heart to work harder than it should to pump blood through your body. You might already know this, because it’s something you would have been born with.”