The Trade(116)

“All he said was Natalie and then gave me a small nod and left. It was horrible, Mom, and it took everything in me not to break down right then and there.” I shake my head and say, “As much as I hate to admit it, I think we’re over forever.”

“Oh Natalie.” She pulls me into a hug and holds me tight as she says, “What are you going to do now?”

“The only thing I can do,” I say. “Move on.”





Chapter Twenty-Seven





CORY





April





“Milly, you can leave.”

“I’m not leaving,” she says, “and if you don’t let me in the exam room, I’m going to rip your nuts off, do you hear me?”

“Yeah,” I say, leaning back in a waiting room chair, hat pulled down far on my head, my hands connected at my stomach.

I don’t want to be here, but Milly insisted, given everything that’s been going on. She’s worried. It’s not the first time I heard her say that to me, and I’m sure it won’t be the last, but ever since three days ago, after I ran into Natalie in the dugout, Milly has been on me, texting and calling every day.

As she put it, I’ve been in a downward spiral ever since spring training and seeing Natalie has sent me plummeting. No idea what she’s talking about because I’m fine. I don’t feel one goddamn emotion, but I’m fine.

I like this zombie state of mind, going through the motions, feeling nothing but a numbing sensation in the pit of my chest. It makes living life so much easier, especially after the hell of spring training.

After Natalie left, I felt like a giant piece of me died inside, as if forty-five percent of my body faded into black, leaving me with the function of my muscle memory and the intelligence to know how to play baseball, but that’s it.

It’s rare when I joke around with anyone on the team, or even hang out with someone outside of the stadium. Marcus has asked me to dinner a few times during spring training, but I turned him down, walking mindlessly back to my hotel room. Maddox even reached out, trying to get me to connect with some of the other players, but there’s no point.

The minute Natalie left was the minute baseball became an actual job, something I go to seven days a week, work at, and then return home after a grueling day. There’s no joy in it anymore, no relationships built, not when I tried over and over to build those relationships and with every piece of bad press I received, backs were turned on me.

Why bother getting to know anyone when the loyalty isn’t there?

Instead, I lead by example. I push myself. I train consistently, eat healthily, work on recovering techniques so I’m ready for the next day. I’m performing at an all-time peak, I see the ball better than I ever have, and there’s talk already that I’ll make another All-Star team.

But it’s a job. That’s how I’m treating it. I’m performing at my job, even if I feel completely and absolutely dead inside.

“Cory, we’re ready for you,” a nurse says, with a clipboard in hand. Sighing, I stand and nod at Milly to come back with me. Relieved, she glues herself to my side as we make our way down the hallway to the doctor’s office. They opened just for me so I could get in and out without press following me around.

I saw a doctor a week or so ago—the team doctor—but Milly wasn’t satisfied. As she put it, of course the team doctor is going to tell you you’re fine, because they want you to play. She wanted me to see someone who wasn’t invested in my play time. So that’s why we’re here.

They check all my vitals and weight, and then take us to a sterile room painted in a cream color that is less than desirable, more depressing than anything. I hop up on the exam table and even though it’s high, my legs are long enough to connect with the pull-out step. The protective paper crinkles beneath me as I shift my body on the table, trying to get comfortable, but it feels next to impossible with the way Milly won’t stop staring at me.

Instead of having the nurse ask me what’s going on, the doctor joins us immediately and the nurse takes notes while he talks to us.

“Dr. Foreseen, it’s nice to meet you.”

He shakes my hand. “What brings you in today, Cory?”

I go to open my mouth when Milly stands from her chair and saddles up right next to me. “He has bald patches in his hair, and he looks pale all the time. I’m worried about his health. If you’ve been following any kind of media here in Chicago, you’ll know that they’ve been eating him alive. I’m worried that it’s slowly eating away at him.”

The doctor glances at Milly and then back at me, arms crossed. “How do you feel?”

Other than dead inside, great.

I shrug. “Fine.”

He nods and looks at my chart. His brow creases when he says, “Have you ever had high blood pressure before?”

“Oh God, does he have high blood pressure?” Milly asks, standing on her toes, trying to look at the chart.

“One thirty-nine over eighty-nine. Stage one high blood pressure.”

Milly shakes her head. “He’s never had high blood pressure.” Worriedly she turns toward me. “Have you?”

I scratch the back of my neck and say, “It was a little high a few weeks ago.”