Stealing Third (12 page)

“Really?”
Her brow shoots up, skeptically. “Even worse than seeing me drowned?”

“Okay,
fine. Second worst then,” Tyler says, admitting seeing me drowned was worse
than seeing me cry. Although, by the concern on his face, it must actually be a
close second.

Wiping
away my tears, I try to focus on Tyler and not the throbbing pain in my ankle.
“Hey, it wasn’t all that bad. I’m sure you looooved hearing me admit how hot I
think you are in my foggy state of concussion.”

Tyler
sits on the ground across from me and laughs. “Not just hot—but Hottie
Mchottieface levels of hot.”

I
roll my eyes, feeling my cheeks warm. “You’re never going to get tired of
reminding me of that, are you?”

“Nope.”
He smiles tucking his knees into his chest and lifting my foot to rest on top.

I
gesture to my foot with a nod of my chin. “You’re really good at that, you
know.”

“At
elevating your foot? Years of practice lifting my own,” he jokes.

I
reach out and shove his shoulder, careful not to jostle my foot. “You know what
I mean—doctor stuff.” 

Tyler’s
eyes move from my foot to the field, and back again as a heaviness seems to
settle in his shoulders.

“Did
I say something wrong? That’s why you’re here, right? Job shadowing because you
want to be a doctor someday?”

Tyler
brushes his thumb gently, just above my swelling ankle. “No, you’re right. It’s
just…I’m sort of on the fence about my future plans is all,” Tyler says, his
voice wavering as he glances back out at the field, like maybe it holds the
answers.

“What?
Afraid med school is gonna kick your ass, huh, Slugger?” I lean back on my
elbows and shoot him a teasing smirk.

“More
like…afraid I’ll make the wrong decision and let my family down.”

I
scrunch up my nose at the idea of Tyler making a wrong decision and letting
anyone down.  “Wrong decision? Like which specialty you want to go into or
something?”

Tyler
looks at my blueish-purple ankle, and then down at the dirt covered base
between us. He raps his knuckles against the hard surface in an anxious beat,
causing the sound to echo into the wide open field.  “No, more like, whether to
be a doctor at all…or go pro.”

I
clamp my hand over my mouth, my eyes wide. He’s one of the players dad was
talking about—the ones getting called up to the minors next season. I let my
hand fall into my lap, replacing my shocked expression with a huge smile.
“Tyler! What decision? You’re getting called up! What else is there to think
about?”

“I
know, right?” Tyler says, dragging his hand through his hair, the tension in
his shoulders ratcheting up. “It’s just not that simple I guess.”

“But
why not?”

“Well…”
Tyler starts, readjusting so he’s sitting cross-legged before carefully resting
my foot on his knee again and then continuing. “When I was in seventh grade, my
older brother Tommy was a senior at the U, your dad was actually his coach,
too. Anyway, he got drafted into the minors that year, and man, it was the
coolest. Mom and Dad were so proud, and the local newspaper even did a big story
on him.” Tyler smiles at the memory, and I’m relieved to see it back on his
face, even if only momentarily.

“So,
you’re worried he’ll be pissed you’re getting drafted earlier than he did, or
something?”

“I
wish.” Tyler presses his lips into a tight line. “He was always the wild one in
the family, you know? Never one to follow the rules or consider the
consequences—he was all about having fun and letting loose.”

Was?

My
heart picks up speed as the puzzle pieces fall into place, suddenly feeling
guilty for teasing Tyler for being such a stickler for rules.

“Anyway,”
Tyler clears his throat when it cracks, “the first night he was away at
training camp, he and a bunch of the new guys went out joy riding, all pumped
up to have made it into the league, and they ended up getting into a pretty big
wreck.

“I
can still remember the sound of my mom’s cries as we rushed to the hospital
after finding out.” Tyler swipes the back of his hand quickly across his cheek.
“It was horrible.”

“Is…is
he…” I trail off, taking Tyler’s hand in mine, unsure how to ask, or if I even
should.

“No.”
Tyler shakes his head and gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. “He’s okay. Now.
But it was pretty bad when it happened. It’s actually the reason I gave up my
dreams of being a professional baseball player and decided I wanted to become a
doctor. After watching Tommy spend nearly three months in the hospital, having
to have multiple surgeries, and then years of physical therapy just to be able
to walk again, I knew that’s what I wanted to do when I grew up—without those
doctors he never would have made it.”

“Wow,
I don’t even know what to say.” I stroke his forearm. “That would be hard to go
through at any age—but especially being so young.”

“It
was. But the worst part actually ended up coming later, when the stress of
caring for Tommy and the mounting hospital bills were just too much for my
parents, and their marriage ended up falling apart.”

I
flinch, thinking about my own parent’s marriage, and know exactly how Tyler
must have felt to watch that happen.

“I
guess that’s when I decided to do everything in my power to stay out of
trouble—hoping to keep my family together, you know?”

I
do. More than he knows.

“So,
that’s why I’m such a ‘stickler for the rules,’” he says, dropping my hand to
make air quotes, before letting out a short tight laugh.

I
wince hearing the teasing words I’ve used to describe him, knowing now, why
staying out of trouble means so much to him. “I get it, and I definitely see
why being a doctor is so important to you, but I don’t know why you think you
would let your family down either way?”

Tyler
shrugs. “I think my parents would have preferred I’d given up the sport all
together. They worried I’d turn out just like Tommy—always partying and
stuff—but in the end they let me keep playing because of how much I love it. I
guess now I’m afraid if I go pro, all it’s going to do is remind them of
everything we lost.” Tyler lets out a deep breath, taking my hand back in his. “And
then there’s Tommy—he would do anything in the world to have this chance again,
so I kind of feel like giving up this opportunity would somehow let him down,
too, you know?”

I
pull Tyler’s hand to my lips and kiss it as a rush of emotions wash over me.
Even though I’m unable to help him decide, I understand how it feels to make
decisions for the sake of family, and suddenly I see my situation in a whole
new light.

“You
know what?” I say, brushing my hand across the stubble on his tense jaw, and
then watching it relax under my touch. “I think whatever you choose to do, as
long as
you’re
happy, the people who love you will be happy too.”

Tyler’s
light green eyes drink me in as a moment of quiet passes between us before
he
clears his throat and puts back on the easy smile I’m used to seeing. “No,
you’re right. I’m sorry for being such a downer—I just get stressed out
thinking about it sometimes.” Tyler sets my foot on the ground and pops up,
dusting off the red dirt from his shorts before offering me his hand. “But I
have all summer to worry about that, while right now, I have a much more
pressing issue to take care of.”

“And
that is?” I ask, as he helps me to my feet, or foot, since I’m not able to put
much weight on my ankle.

“To
get you to the nurse’s office to see Doc.” He smiles, the weight, for now, off
his shoulders.

“Only
on one condition,” I offer, wanting him to know I’m here for him if he needs
me. “If you ever feel like talking about it—or stressing about it—you’ll let me
know if there is anything I can do to help?” I tilt my head up and look at him
through my lashes. “Promise?”

“I
promise.” Tyler nods, his effortless smile assuring me he will. “But…there is
actually something you can do right now that would help.” His face lights up
with mischievousness and I have a feeling I know exactly what he wants—and I’m
happy to do it.

“Let
me guess.” I toss my arms around his broad shoulders and breathe in his unique
glove oil, leather, and peppermint scent. “Want me to kiss it and make it
better?”

Nodding,
he wraps me up in his arms and I press my smiling lips to his until the sound
of laughter breaks us apart and sends a panic rushing through me.

Tyler
brushes a stray hair from my face and tucks it behind my ear. “It’s okay. It
sounds like they’re down by the cabins.” His voice is calm and reassuring and
takes away my worry.

“I
better go anyway, before my ankle looks less like a baseball and more like a
softball.” I press up on my toes and give him a quick peck before turning
around and limping off.

“Oh
no, you don’t.” Tyler grabs my elbow, effectively stopping me from my retreat
back to camp. He moves in front of me and crouches down like he wants me to hop
on his back.

“But—” 

“No
buts,” Tyler says, peering at me from over his shoulder. “You’re hurt. So I can
either give you a piggy back ride back to camp—or I can run down and get Doc
and the golf cart and come back for you. Your choice.”

I
shake my head at the charming smile he gives me, clearly sure he’s won this
argument. And he has. The last thing I want is a Doc chauffeured ride on a golf
cart to the nurse’s office in front of the whole camp. I blow out a breath.

“Fine,”
I say, gripping his shoulders as he hoists me onto his back. “You know it’s
just a sprain. Not like I haven’t had plenty of them in my life from sliding
into home,” I grumble, even though I’m more than happy to spend a few more
minutes close to him, and I think he knows it.

“Technically,
you were stealing third—and I’m pretty sure there was less sliding and more
tripping going on, but...” he trails off, laughing under his breath.

Oh,
yeah?

“Looks
like that’s not the only thing I’m stealing,” I say, planting a kiss on his
cheek before reaching down and snatching the bright red flag from off his belt.

He
twists his head to look at me over his shoulder, a soft smile playing on his lips.
“That’s not the only thing you’ve stolen.”

I
think I know exactly what he means—and he might just be a bigger thief than me.

…

With
my ankle thoroughly evaluated by Doc, and confirmed to be nothing but a minor
sprain, Tyler goes to work on wrapping me up.

“I
want you to practice the RICE method for the next twenty-four to forty-eight
hours,” he instructs as he wraps the nude colored ace bandage snugly around my
ankle and secures it with two small silver clips. “That means, rest, ice,
compress and elevate.” He ticks off on his fingers. “You got it?”

Does
he really think I don’t know what the RICE method is? I hold back a laugh,
letting him tell me anyway, because he’s so sexy when he’s doctoring.

“Yes,
Doctor,” I purr, earning a look from Tyler that makes me think we’d both like
to play doctor for just a little bit longer.

I
scoot to the end of the examination table, my hurt foot propped on Tyler’s
knee, as he sits on a small black stool with his hand resting on the top of my
bandage, just below my calf.

“Em.”
His voice is low and cautious, and makes my stomach coil.

“Can
you show me exactly how high I need to keep it elevated, Doctor?” I ask,
feigning ignorance before moving my foot from his knee to the crook in his
elbow. “How’s this?”

Tyler
runs his hand up the back of my calf to just under my knee, his fingers
brushing against the soft skin, and sending a shiver up my spine.

“Emily—”

“Or,”
achingly slow I drag my foot up the side of his bicep, and over his broad
shoulder, pulling him closer in the process, until the back of my knee is
draped over his collarbone, “more like this?”

That
must be just what the doctor ordered because he shoots off his stool, sending
it rolling back and colliding with the closed door, and crashes his lips to
mine.

Running
his hand up the length of my leg, still wrapped around his shoulder, our bodies
press hard against one another until the sound of Doc’s voice echoing down the
hall yanks us apart, leaving us both panting.

Tyler
moves away from me lightning quick to the small fridge in the corner of the
room. He pulls out a tub of frozen cold compresses and fumbles through them as
I drop my leg carelessly—frustrated in more ways than one—and accidently smash
it against the base of the examination table, replacing the tingles running up
my spine from just moments ago with searing pain.

I
cry out as Doc enters the office, a pair of crutches in hand.

“You
just can’t seem to keep yourself out of my office can you, Miss Evers? Luckily
I have Mr. Ford here to help handle the triage.” Doctor Newton hands me the
crutches before checking the quality of Tyler’s wrap job. “Impeccable work.” He
nods at Tyler, taking the icy blue compress and placing it gently against my
ankle. “Did Tyler go over the RICE method with you? It’s imperative to keep
your foot elevated for the next day or so, all right?”