For the Win: A Standalone Baseball Romance

by Raine Thomas

  One he had vowed to press charges against if he ever saw her near Katie again.

  Chapter Four

  As the irate father left with the little girl, Jasmine watched them go while fighting the urge to further defend herself. Still, she couldn’t resist giving the girl a wink when she glanced over her shoulder. There was just something so endearing about that serious expression she seemed prone to wearing.

  “Sorry about that, Dr. Parker,” Jasmine said when they were alone.

  Her physical therapist’s lips turned up at the corners. “Didn’t I tell you to call me Everly, Jasmine?”

  Jasmine tapped her temple as she walked over to pick up her gym bag. “Sorry. You’re Dr. Parker in my head. I still forget sometimes.”

  “It’s fine.” Everly stood to the side and waved Jasmine ahead of her toward the therapy area. “Sorry I’m running a little behind. I appreciate you waiting.”

  “No problem. I actually had fun with that little girl. Katie, right?”

  “Yeah. She’s a sweetheart.”

  “Can’t say the same about her father,” Jasmine said dryly as they reached the therapy area. “Boy, did he get bent out of shape when he saw me working with her.”

  Her attention was caught by a shimmering bouquet of colorful balloons hovering above the small desk Everly used to hold her laptop and a few personal effects. The large center balloon read “Happy Birthday!”

  “Is today your birthday?” Jasmine asked.

  “I’m sorry. What?”

  Everly sounded distracted. Jasmine saw her hand pressed against her stomach.

  “I noticed the balloons,” Jasmine said. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Oh.” Everly looked in the direction of her desk and smiled. “Yes, it’s my birthday. Cole insisted that I had to keep my balloons where I could see them while I’m working. And yes, I’m fine. You ready to get started?”

  “Happy birthday, Doc. And of course I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

  “Great. Let’s check on your progress since last time.”

  Jasmine was familiar with the routine. Not only had she gone through seven months of PT before her second surgery, she had been seeing Everly for nearly five months now. She followed Everly’s instructions while she used her instruments to evaluate Jasmine’s range of motion and balance, then moved onto the exercises Everly tasked her with.

  They were in the middle of some plyometrics exercises when Everly excused herself and made a rather hasty retreat to the bathroom. Jasmine found it odd, but she didn’t get too suspicious until it happened again while Jasmine was on the treadmill.

  When Everly returned, Jasmine stopped the machine and asked, “Is there something I should know?”

  Everly’s cheeks filled with color. “I’m so sorry. I guess there’s really no getting around letting you in on a little secret.”

  “You’re pregnant?”

  “Yeah. Lucky me, I’m getting my morning sickness in the afternoons. It’s making it tough to get through my later appointments.”

  Jasmine felt for her. The interference with her dancing was just one reason—the most important one—that she didn’t have any desire to have a child of her own anytime soon. That didn’t mean she didn’t know what she was supposed to say at times like these.

  “Congrats! When are you due?”

  “Mid-September.”

  Doing some quick math in her head, Jasmine hazarded, “A post-Christmas surprise?”

  Everly laughed. “Exactly.”

  “That’s nice. I’m sure it’s a wonderful gift.”

  “It is, thanks. Why don’t you get back to the treadmill?” Once Jasmine complied, Everly adjusted the machine’s settings and said, “I’d appreciate you keeping this under wraps for now. We’re not announcing anything until after the traditional twelve weeks.”

  “Of course.” Jasmine started moving when the machine kicked into gear. “Cole knows then?”

  “Oh, yeah. He’s been holding my hair back most evenings these days.”

  “Aww.” That visual was both gross and sweet at the same time. “Is he happy about the coming baby?”

  “Over the moon. He’s been talking about a little brother or sister for Grace since before she was born. Now that he has a taste of fatherhood, he can’t seem to get enough.”

  Jasmine smiled. “Just tell him to never get as protective of your kids as Katie’s father was today. Yikes.”

  “Oh, Will’s a good guy.” Everly studied Jasmine’s mobility and jotted something in her notebook. “He might take being a single dad to a new level sometimes, but he loves Katie to death.”

  “He’s a single dad?”

  Everly’s troubled expression made Jasmine think she was worried she had said too much. “Yeah. Anyway, I didn’t want you thinking you were going to come down with some plague because I keep running to the bathroom. I promise, you’re fine.”

  Sensing that the chit-chat was over, Jasmine nodded and returned her focus to her therapy.

  At the end of the appointment, Everly sat with her in the two chairs situated across from the desk. It was Everly’s routine to spend a few minutes with her clients at the end of every session to discuss progress and goals for the next one. Jasmine waited for her to finish reviewing the numbers she had noted throughout the session. The grave look in her blue-green eyes dampened Jasmine’s mood.

  “Let’s hear it, Doc,” she said.

  “There’s been a little progress,” Everly said, setting her notebook aside. “Not the impressive strides you’re looking for, but even a little progress is good. It tells me you’re working on your exercises on your own at home. I expected no less after getting to know you.”

  “Is my progress on par with what you’d expect to see for me to reach my goal of dancing professionally again by summer?”

  Everly folded her hands in her lap and paused before she answered. “Jasmine, the injury you suffered…it’s very difficult to overcome. We’re working on it, and I promise to continue putting forth my best effort to get you where you want to be.”

  “But…”

  “But you’ve heard more than one doctor tell you this injury is career-ending. There’s a reason they’ve said that. As difficult as this is to say, I’m going to encourage you to consider alternatives to a career as a professional dancer. If you don’t, there’s a very high likelihood you’ll risk permanently injuring yourself.”

  Jasmine’s lungs suddenly felt like they’d forgotten how to function. While this wasn’t the first time she had heard that prognosis, it was the first time she’d heard it from Everly.

  Which made it even more devastating.

  Jasmine had spent weeks researching physical therapists before her second surgery. Everly was among the most brilliant in her field. It was why Jasmine had insisted to her father that Everly had to be her physical therapist even though her fee was higher than that of many others.

  And it was why Jasmine now started to believe she’d never achieve her dreams.

  “I’m sorry,” Everly said. “I don’t want to end things on a negative note. We’ll keep working on it. I just want you to be prepared in case things don’t go the way you hope.”

  “Thanks, Everly. I appreciate that.”

  The words were hollow. Jasmine wanted to rail at Everly and demand to know why life was so unfair. How could it be that despite the surgeries and all of her hard work, she still might never dance professionally again?

  Why did it feel as though the only person who intended to support her in pursuit of that goal was herself?

  She considered that as she climbed into her car after the appointment concluded. So what if no one else supported her? Was that really any different from how things had been since her mother died?

  Okay, maybe that was unfair, she allowed as she pulled out of the driveway. Her father might be withdrawing his financial support, but he hadn’t told her not to continue trying to pursue her dreams on her own. It wasn’t like he had said she
wouldn’t be able to do it.

  No, only her physical therapist had said that.

  Feeling thoroughly sorry for herself, she decided against going to her apartment where she’d have to tell her roommate she was moving out. Instead, she turned her car in the direction of Steamy Beans, the coffee and wine bar that May managed. She wagered even if her sister didn’t happen to be working, she could at least wheedle a glass of wine out of May’s co-manager and roommate, Tobias. One of them was almost always on shift.

  Steamy Beans was located off the beaten path in a more residential section of Virginia-Highland. Despite not being along the main streets of the area, it was by far one of the most popular places for the locals to hang out. Jasmine had trouble finding a parking spot when she arrived. Fortunately her sister lived across the street from the bar and had reserved parking. Jasmine had no qualms about pulling into the single open space in front of May’s duplex and staking it as her own.

  She walked across the street in the fading afternoon sunlight, wishing she’d thought to bring a spare pair of shoes since she felt every pebble through her thin flats. The sound of live music beckoned her closer, rising in volume and then receding each time the bar’s doors opened. It told her that Steamy Beans’ generous happy hour had officially begun.

  Thank God.

  The outside tables were already filled with patrons despite the day’s brisk temperature. Portable heaters set up around the patio ensured they stayed comfortable. The hum of their chattering voices rose and fell right along with the music. Spotting a few regulars she’d met on previous visits, Jasmine smiled and waved on her way inside, not feeling up to more socializing than that.

  When she opened the door, her senses were pleasantly assaulted by the lively music played by the solo singer-guitarist in the corner and the mingling scents of roasted coffee beans and wine. She still wasn’t sure how the aromas blended so well, but she’d always found them appealing. They drew her closer to the bustling bar, as did the appetizing array of pastries behind the glass case. Her sister helped bake them fresh every morning using many of the recipes passed down by their German mother. If the long line and filled tables were any indication, Jasmine was going to have to take her order to go and catch up with her sister another time.

  “Jazzy!”

  She glanced to her right and spotted Danny, Tobias’ boyfriend and May’s second roommate, waving at her. Danny and Tobias were the only two people Jasmine allowed to call her Jazzy, and that was simply because they refused to do otherwise. She had gotten to know both guys pretty well over the past couple years. They were both in their late-twenties and treated May and Jasmine like their sisters. Their natural acceptance and open hearts had proven impossible to resist.

  Unlike the more athletic Tobias who favored casual comfort over any real sense of style, Danny was every bit the urban hipster. Today he wore tight burgundy jeans, navy high-top Converse, and a navy T-shirt under an untucked, patterned button-down. Although he wasn’t wearing it at the moment, his dark, unkempt curls told Jasmine he had likely worn one of his favored beanies to the bar. At the moment, he was sitting at a table for two with his laptop in front of him and a glass of wine in his hand.

  “Come sit with me,” he said over the music. “You’ll be in line for an age. Just tell me what you want and I’ll text T.”

  She walked over to his table and, since he rose and extended his arms, gave him a hug. “I don’t want to trouble Tobias,” she said, though she did allow Danny to help her remove her coat and hang it over the second chair. “They’re really busy back there.”

  “Nonsense,” he argued, urging her into the chair. “He knows we don’t expect instant service. He’s the one who told me to order this way. Now what can I get you?”

  Too exhausted to argue, she turned to look again at the pastry case, then back at him. “Would you split the citrus and berry Mille-Feuille with me?”

  “Twist my arm, honey,” he said, typing into his phone. “And what are we drinking?”

  “Let’s go with a glass of the Riesling.”

  Danny looked at her over the rim of his glasses. “Someone’s in need of some sweet and sassy, huh? Rough day?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “In that case, I’ll just order us both two glasses.”

  That brought the first smile to her face in more than an hour. It was amazingly comforting to have someone take care of her, even if just to place an order and commiserate with her. “Thanks, Danny.”

  “You got it.” He sent his text and put his phone down, then closed his laptop. “I’ve been looking for a reason to stop working on that shitty project since three o’clock. Now spill.”

  She sighed. “I’m not sure where to start.”

  “Where were you before you got here?”

  “Physical therapy.”

  He lifted his glass of wine. “Start there.”

  She did, giving him a run-through of what she’d been working on and what she had hoped she’d hear. Before she reached the part where she got the bad news, May appeared at her elbow carrying a tray with two glasses of wine and the pastry.

  “I heard there was an S.O.S. text,” she said, expertly balancing the tray and leaning down to place a brief kiss on Jasmine’s cheek. “I wanted to come and check on you. Sugar and alcohol generally equal Day From Hell for you.”

  “Thanks. I didn’t know if you were working,” Jasmine said, gratefully accepting her glass as May distributed the items from the tray.

  “Yeah, we’re a full crew tonight. It’s always jammed when Miles is playing.”

  Jasmine inferred that May was referencing the singer who had just announced he was taking a fifteen-minute break. “Ah. He’s good.”

  “He’s excellent,” her sister corrected. “I expect any day he’ll be discovered and I’ll lose our biggest draw. But that’s neither here nor there. Why are you sitting here downing Riesling like it’s a shot of tequila?”

  Jasmine swallowed the rather large amount of wine she had in her mouth. Before she could reply, Danny got to his feet and touched May’s shoulder.

  “Sit for a minute,” he said, taking the tray she held and his empty wine glass. “I’ll ask T how I can help.”

  “Thanks, hon.” May settled in the chair and gave Jasmine a pointed look. “Okay. What’s up?”

  So Jasmine started again, giving a more abbreviated version of her PT experience since May really needed to get back to work.

  “I’m sorry that the news wasn’t more positive,” May said, reaching across the table and covering Jasmine’s hand briefly where it had settled around the stem of her wine glass. “I’m sure it was difficult to hear.”

  That was the understatement of the year. “Of course it was. It didn’t help that it came right on top of my conversation with Bàba about him not paying my way anymore.”

  “What?”

  “He said I have until the end of February to start supporting myself. Now I have to go home and tell Danielle I won’t be able to afford to pay any rent as of March first. I’m going to end up in my old bedroom at Bàba’s house.”

  Jasmine drank the last of her glass of wine, knowing it was going to go straight to her head. That was the point.

  “All right,” May said in her pragmatic tone that had Jasmine prepping for a lecture. “Bàba can’t keep paying your way, and that’s that. If you want to pursue your dancing dreams, you’ll have to find a way to support them on your own. The way I see it, you can either sit here and drink yourself into a stupor or we can come up with a plan that won’t have you sleeping in a pink canopy bed surrounded by creepy porcelain dolls.”

  “Hey! They weren’t creepy until we watched Annabelle.”

  “Yeah, they were.”

  “Okay, fine,” Jasmine relented. “But we can’t throw them out.”

  “Of course not. They’d find their way back from the dump and kill us while we slept.”

  They both shivered. Then they broke into laughter.

/>   “Thanks for that,” Jasmine said. “And for sparing me a more involved lecture.”

  May got to her feet. “You’re welcome, though there could always be more lecturing to come. I’ll see how I’m feeling at the end of this shift.” She patted Jasmine’s shoulder to soften the words. “Hang out for a while with Danny if you want. We can chat more once the crowd dies down. We’ll figure this out.”

  Watching her sister move over to a neighboring table to check on a customer, Jasmine let out another sigh.

  “I sure hope so,” she murmured.

  Chapter Five

  Will climbed out of the shower in his hotel room and reached for a towel. He instinctively double-checked the door to make sure he’d locked it. He had learned the hard way that kids really didn’t give a shit about privacy. It was still a toss-up whether he was glad that he’d been on the toilet versus naked after a shower when Katie first barged in on him.

  At least she hadn’t seen anything that could scar her for life.

  Not hearing any sounds from the outer room, he reasoned that Gareth and Katie were still at the hotel’s pool. His daughter loved to swim. It was generally a battle to get her out of the water.

  He enjoyed the few moments of quiet time to shave, brush his teeth, and get into some comfortable clothes without anyone knocking on the door or jimmying the handle. After more than three weeks of spring training and hotel living, he was already longing for his own bedroom and bathroom. Unfortunately, even after the regular season started in another ten days, the team would be traveling to Arizona. Gareth and Katie, on the other hand, would soon be returning to Atlanta.

  That thought had Will reaching for his phone after exiting the bathroom. Glancing at the time, he saw it was late enough in the day that his dad should have wrapped up the work on his schedule. Will initiated a call to him as he flopped onto his bed. Too lazy to hold the phone up after a couple innings of pitching, he hit the speaker icon.

  “Hey there,” Frank greeted him.

  “Hi. Thought I’d call and see how things went today on the Giuseppe project.”