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Chapter forty-eight

Griffin

“ G riff! We’re here and brought food!” Danae’s voice calls from the entryway. I hear the pattern of Jason’s bare feet running on the wood floors next, drawing closer to my spot on the couch in the living room.

It’s been almost a month since I reinjured my shoulder and had surgery two days later. I’ll never forget the vision of Danae’s face peering over me as I came out of the anesthesia—her eyebrows furrowed with worry, then springing back in relief at the sight of my small smile.

Last year, when I woke up from surgery, it was a matter of seconds before my mind dove deep down the dark pit of worry over whether my career was over.

Whether I could be my old self again—the self I thought was the totality of who I am.

But this time, my first conscious thoughts were about how much I loved the woman looking at me.

At me . The woman who was worried sick over whether I would be okay—not if I would be able to play baseball again.

The woman who spent every possible moment with me throughout the first two weeks of my recovery—time she normally would have spent planning for the start of the school year.

Jason was usually with her, and he kept me apprised of all significant baseball-related news.

I’ve taken a break from watching the Crowns games because it all felt too raw. Too fresh.

Instead, we spent time watching a couple more of the Harry Potter movies with Jason, until Danae decided the series would be too scary to continue with him.

I finally beat Jason at a couple out of a hundred rounds of Trash played together on the back patio.

We had lots of long evenings with Danae tucked under my right arm, quietly reading while I binged popular shows I’ve never had time to watch before.

The unfamiliar change of pace was refreshing—simply existing with the people I love instead of immediately working toward the next goal.

Sam and my mom filled in the gaps when Danae couldn’t be here, but I’m back to being an almost-fully functional adult again.

Which is good, since Danae and Jason have been in school for two weeks now.

We’re celebrating a successful start to the school year for Jason by going to the Crowns game tomorrow night together.

We’ll be watching from the suite, which will be an entirely different experience for me.

But I’m excited to watch my teammates play again with my safe person by my side.

Jason greets me and instantly starts chattering a mile a minute about his day at school, bringing a smile to my face. He’s in the middle of a story about one of the kindergarteners bringing a hamster to school hidden in her backpack when Danae’s gorgeous face fills my vision.

“Hey, babe,” she says as she leans over me from behind the couch. I tilt my head back to catch her kiss, earning an “ugh, gross!” from Jason.

“I’m going to go get drinks out of the fridge,” he says, covering his eyes.

Danae glances up at him with a smile, then looks back down at me, leaning her hands against the back of the couch. She takes in the heating pad on my shoulder. “How did physical therapy go today?” she asks, eyes filling with concern.

I reach behind me to grab her right hand and steer her around the couch to come sit beside me. “Painful, awful, hard—about what I expected.”

She tucks one knee under her to sit facing me on the couch and leans in to brush a soft kiss against my lips. As she draws back, I catch her chin between my thumb and forefinger. Glancing down at her perfect lips, I murmur, “You know, my lips aren’t broken. You don’t have to be so gentle.”

Danae gives me a wry smile as I pull her chin closer to me, and she responds with a kiss that is not at all delicate. Remembering that Jason is in the next room, I playfully nip at her bottom lip before releasing her.

“How was school today?” I ask.

Sighing, she responds, “I’m gonna need food for sustenance to rehash the day.”

I smirk and remark, “That good, huh?”

“Let’s just say the hamster incident is the tip of the iceberg with this new kindergarten class.

They’re keeping all of us on our toes,” she says.

“But I had the most precious conversation about books with a new fourth grader today.

I'll tell you all about it. Do you want me to bring your food over here so you can keep using the heating pad?”

Clicking the button off, I sit forward. “Nah, I’ll come eat at the table with you. I’ve about hit the time limit for heat anyway.”

Jason takes the lid off of my burrito bowl when we get to the table, then starts building his tacos.

I’ll still wear the sling for another week or two, but this is food I can easily eat with one hand.

Danae and Jason take turns sharing more about their days, and Jason asks about what I did in therapy today.

He switches into sports commentator mode, filling me in on the Crowns’ latest games so I’ll be fully briefed going into tomorrow night. His commentary churns up conflicting emotions in my gut—emotions I need to share with Danae.

“Hey, Fireball, Adrian came by earlier and set up that new rebounder net in the backyard. You could grab your glove and go out to get some fielding practice in—get in shape to start playing next spring.” I add that last thought with a wink at Danae, who rolls her eyes.

“I already agreed to try it out in the spring. Adding in practices and games on top of everything this fall was too much,” she says. I wink at her again to make sure she knows I’m on her side.

Jason gets up from the table and starts to run off, but Danae reminds him to throw away his trash first. He goes the extra mile and takes all of our trash, which brings a shine of pride to Danae’s eyes.

“Why don’t we sit out back so we can keep an eye on him?” I suggest. The patio is raised high enough that we can still have a private conversation while keeping Jason within our line of sight .

We take a seat on the porch swing, and I pull Danae close, wrapping my right arm around her. I’m not sure how to go about easing into such an emotional conversation, so I throw us straight into the deep end.

“I’ve decided to retire from baseball.”

Danae launches herself back, the jolt of movement sending a flare of pain through my shoulder. I try to hide my grimace, but her effusive apologies must mean I failed.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to move so quickly! Are you okay?” she asks, face stricken.

“I’m fine,” I assure her. “Pain is part of the process. I can handle it. I don’t like you sitting so far away from me, though.”

She scootches closer to me but remains sitting upright, peering at my face. I point and flex my foot, gently rocking us on the swing, needing the soothing movement.

“Why would you say that, Griff? We’ve talked about this with the doctors, the coaches, the trainers.

You should be back in shape to join spring training—you might not even have to spend any time playing for the farm team if camp goes well.

I have your entire rehab schedule organized and color-coded.

We’re doing this,” Danae says, voice firm, eyes blazing.

I reach my hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, savoring the silky texture between my fingers. “I don’t want to do it anymore.”

Danae’s eyes bounce back and forth between mine. The thought factory is in overdrive, but I know her well enough now to know what’s churning in there.

“I’m serious,” I say. “I know that you’re supportive of me continuing to play. But I don’t want to do it again.”

Tears sparkle in her eyes, and as much as I don’t want her to cry, I’m ready to drink in the emerald green show that’s coming.

“Griff, this is your dream. You love this game. I know you do. You love everything about it, and you’re amazing at this,” Danae says, practically wringing my hand in hers.

“I know that some of the guys could get traded, but Adrian and Drew will for sure still be playing next season. They want you back. Everyone wants you back. We want to keep watching you play. I know the rehab is hard, but I also know that you can do it. You’re the most determined man I know. Why are you second-guessing yourself?”

“It can’t be second-guessing if it was my first thought,” I confess.

Danae’s eyes narrow in confusion. “I know we’ve talked with everyone about how I could still come back.

I know you have a beautiful color-coded rehab schedule all mapped out.

But in that moment when you were standing next to me in the training room after my injury, my first thought was, ‘I’m ready. This could be over, and I’ll be okay.’”

The tears are spilling down Danae’s cheeks now, and I reach up to cup her face.

“I remember every detail of how hard it was the first time around. The rehab, the not knowing how strong my shoulder would be, the fears over not being good enough again. There’s zero guarantee that my shoulder recovers from a second tear and I get back to how good I used to be.

And I have enough pride to not want to be the has-been who didn’t know to quit while he was ahead,” I say.

Danae sniffs and wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “But you could try. You could do the rehab and see how things go, see how your shoulder is healing. Will you be constantly second-guessing yourself if you give up on your greatest passion without seeing how it might go?”

Sitting up, I lean closer to Danae, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

“Baseball isn’t my greatest passion anymore.

Yes, I love it. For sure, I’m going to miss it.

Will I second-guess myself? Yeah, but I constantly second-guess myself anyway.

But I am one hundred percent positive that I will never truly regret it.

Because I’m ready to shift my focus to the other things in my life that I love—the people I love. ”

Danae’s expression cracks with emotion, and I gently pull her face closer so I can kiss away her tears.

“Griffin, are you sure about this? You’re not going to lose us. I’m going to support you every step of the way through recovery and getting back into playing shape. You don’t have to give this up. Are you sure about this?” she presses.

“I’m absolutely positive,” I say, echoing the words from the night I first asked her on a date. “I’m ready. The Wizard was an amazing chapter in my life, but it’s not the whole book. And I’m ready to turn the page. ”

Danae’s stricken expression breaks into a watery smile at my book lingo. I stroke her cheek with my thumb, feeling a settled sense of peace now that I’ve spoken these thoughts aloud to her.

“You with me?” I quietly ask.

She mirrors my position, bringing her hand up to my jaw.

“One hundred percent, forever.”