I glanced over my shoulder and then turned back to Coby. “Meet me at the front door.”

He did, and I let him in. The second he stepped into the house, even before I had the door closed behind him, he had me in his arms, my face tucked against his chest. We stood like that for a beat longer than normal, him needing me, and me being there for him.

Finally, I took his hand, locked the door behind us, and led him down the dark hallway to my room. The lamp I turned on beside my bed cast a soft glow in the space around us. And for the first time, I saw the anguish in my best friend’s face. He appeared to have been crying with heavy circles under his eyes and red-rimmed lids, but it was the defeat weighing his shoulders down that scared me.

In a hushed tone, I asked, “Coby, what’s going on?”

He took a deep breath as he resumed his spot on my bed. I crawled over him and laid down, flanking his left side—the way I’d done countless times before—and lifted my head for him to slide his forearm under my neck. But Coby didn’t move, and I was instantly filled with fear. I propped my head on my hand and waited for him to unload. Slowly, he closed his eyes, and a tear ran down the side of his face.

“There’s something wrong, Ellie.”

I wanted to lighten the mood, joke with him about his stamina or boy-band nicknames for Ryan or my disdain for pig or even vanilla-scented candles, but I knew in my heart, whatever Coby had to tell me would change our lives.

“Is this about Charlene?” I hadn’t heard him mention her since the tabloid debacle, but if that harlot tried to ruin him, I’d ruin her. When he shook his head, I tried again. “The team?” No. “You’re going to have to give me something to go on, Coby. I don’t have a clue.”

“I got benched in the last game.”

This wasn’t new information. It happened several weeks ago, so I couldn’t imagine why it was suddenly so devastating. “I know.”

The tension in his jaw indicated his frustration. “I wasn’t benched for a strain.”

“What do you mean? That’s what you told me. That’s what was all over the sports channels. Did you get caught with another player’s wife, or something equally horrendous, and get suspended?”

“No, Ellie. Everyone believes it was just a muscle strain. Overworked. That I just need to give my arm a rest because pitching one hundred and sixty-two games in a regular season is physically demanding.”

“But it’s not that?” He wasn’t making sense, yet with clarification would come truth, and it was one I wasn’t sure I would be able to handle.

“I’m in constant pain—burning, searing agony that radiates from the base of my neck down to my fingers. And the numbness that the tingling brings prevents me from holding the ball correctly. Then when I wind up, I think it would be less painful if my arm were crushed in a vice grip.”

“What does Steve think?” Surely his pitching coach had dealt with shoulder injuries before. Coby wasn’t the first player to ever be benched.

“I haven’t told him the extent of it.”

I bolted upright to stare at the golden-brown eyes that had held my attention most of my life. “Why not?” I shrieked before remembering it was the middle of the night and my parents had no idea Coby was here. “You have to tell him what’s going on.”

“Don’t you get it? I can’t. I just resigned my contract. It will look like I let them buy a lemon. If I were injured, that should have been disclosed during negotiations.”

“But you didn’t know. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“That won’t be the perception.”

“You have to see a doctor, Coby…before you end up doing permanent damage.”

“How am I going to see anyone without the team finding out? I can’t go into a doctor’s office and someone not see me, or a staff member not leak it to the press. That just leads to scandal.”

“So what are you going to do?” I got what he was saying yet the alternative seemed to outweigh the consequences of neglect.

“I hoped you could help me figure that out.”

I fell onto my back, and he winced at the slight bounce of the mattress. I didn’t doubt he was in pain, but there was more to his melancholy than the discomfort he felt. “Did something happen tonight that brought you here?”

“Not really.”

I’d heard that tone before. It was the one he used when there was more to tell and he was reluctant to share whatever it was. “What were you doing when you decided to come? Just hanging out at the house?”

“I went out with Gage.”

“To where, a whore house?”

He let out a bark of a laugh that shook his chest. “No, a club. Why?”

“You reek of cigarettes and cheap perfume.” I’d been distracted by his presence when he got here and hadn’t noticed it when he came in, but now my room stunk like a brothel. “And my guess is no club in Tuscaloosa uses Eau de Slut to keep their dance floor smelling fresh.”

“It was nothing.”

“Fine. Don’t tell me.” I huffed and rolled away from him.

“Come back. I can’t turn onto my left side, E.T. I wasn’t blowing you off. I’m serious when I say nothing happened. Nothing ever happens. When it comes to the ladies, my batting average rivals that on the field.”

“Yeah, right,” I scoffed. Coby and I didn’t discuss his dating scene. He didn’t flaunt it in front of me, and I didn’t ask questions. It was easier—it prevented me from becoming jaded about that part of his life. “There’s no way Coby Kyler—Major League pitcher—strikes out in the bedroom.”

“Believe what you want, but there’s a reason I haven’t ever been in a relationship.”

I didn’t know what to say. My intuition told me he exaggerated, and this had more to do with his shoulder and career than his ability to hit a home run in the bedroom. As we lay there in silence watching the blades spin on the fan and the shadows dance around the walls, his pinky hooked with mine and gently squeezed.

“Hey, E.T.?” His voice broke the quietness, and he turned his head to face me.

“Yeah?”

“How angry is MMMBop going to be that I crashed Thanksgiving? I can go to my dad’s if I need to.”

I fought the grin though I couldn’t stop it. I had no idea where he came up with this stuff. Coby didn’t mean any harm in his teasing, but the silliness took me back to the way we were pre-draft…and I’d missed it. “Hanson? Seriously? That might be the worst one yet.”

“I’ve got an entire arsenal lined up. I can keep them going all night.” He felt it, too. It was evident in the way his nose scrunched and the light bounced off his eyes. “Seriously, Ellie. I don’t want to cause you problems.”

Coby had been on the road more than he’d been home recently, and he wasn’t aware of the strain that existed in my relationship with Ryan. “He’s not here.”

“Why not?” He almost sounded offended. The disbelief shone in the grimace that replaced the boyish grin that had been there just seconds ago.

“It just didn’t work out.”

“Ellie…when did you start keeping secrets?”

“Hmmm…April, two-thousand thirteen.” I winked at him. “I’m kidding. I’m not keeping anything from you. We just haven’t had much time to hang out. No big deal.”

“Okay, well since he’s not here and everyone else is asleep, I’d say we have all the time in the world. So talk. I’d hate to have to tell NSYNC bye bye bye.” Coby thought he was clever, and I couldn’t deny his ability to bring a smile to my face.

“It’s really not a big deal. Since he graduated and got a job, he’s been…excited to progress our relationship.”

“Like he’s talking about getting married?”

I sat up and crossed my legs. My hand got stuck in my tangled hair when I ran my fingers through it, and it dawned on me how atrocious I must look. But as quickly as the thought came, it left. “Maybe, although right now he’s pushing me to move in with him.”

“Are you ready for that?”

“I have no idea. Possibly after I graduate, but he doesn’t see the point in waiting.”

Coby wore his emotions on his sleeve…and his face. He couldn’t hide anything from me. His brow quickly furrowed, and his lips pursed just before the muscles in his jaw flexed. “You don’t have to stay because of me, E.T. You know that, right?”

“That’s just it. You’re finally home, I have a couple of months before you go back for Spring Training, and it’s my senior year. I’m not interested in making any massive changes. Student teaching begins in January…and honestly, it just feels off. Should there really be this much hesitation to move in with your significant other if it’s the right thing to do?”

I’d battled that question in my mind since Ryan began his quest for me to live with him. My hesitation to move in with Coby had been about my desire to experience life as any other college student would—my reluctance never had anything to do with living with Coby. But now that I was there, it felt like home. We’d picked out all the furniture and decorated the rooms together. I might not have a penny invested in the property, yet it felt like mine. Like it was where I was supposed to be. There was no pressure there—for anything. And that wasn’t the case with Ryan.

I had left out the parts about Ryan being ready to take our relationship to the next step physically. We’d been together long enough that people assumed we were intimate, and still, he’d stuck to his guns about intercourse until he graduated. That wasn’t to say we hadn’t found creative ways to be together, but we hadn’t done the deed. When it hadn’t been an option, it was something I craved often, and now that it was a possibility, I no longer cared about it. Nonetheless, I couldn’t decipher if that was because I didn’t want to share that with him, or if it was because Melinda had just dropped out of school because she got pregnant. Either way, I was too close to the finish line to derail all I’d worked for in the last three and a half years.

“I don’t know. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t understand where he was coming from. You guys have been dating for a while. Now that he’s out of school, it makes sense he’s ready to pursue life with you. He’d be crazy not to, Ellie.”

“Coby, I haven’t even secured a teaching position for next fall. I could end up with a job in another state, or not find one at all. There are lots of graduates vying for high school English positions in the area. And what if I decide to get my master’s degree? There are just so many balls in the air right now, I don’t think I should make any commitments.” I felt like I was arguing my case before a grand jury, even though Coby hadn’t put me on trial.

He struggled to sit up without using his left arm, and my heart hurt to see him in pain. Then he scooted back against the headboard, settled against the pillows, and offered me his hand. When I took it, he pulled me between his legs, pressing my back to his chest, and circled my stomach with his forearm. I relaxed into his embrace and exhaled the breath it seemed I’d been holding for months.

“If you’re not ready, E.T., then you’re just not ready. You don’t have to make a decision today. Trust your instincts.” He lifted a finger on the hand that rested casually near my belly button, and I touched my pointer finger to his. “And, Ellie…if Ryan loves you, he’ll wait.” His use of Ryan’s actual name didn’t escape my attention—nor did the sentiment behind it. My best friend knew I loved my boyfriend, and I had no doubt Coby would step aside to make room.

Peace washed over me. I didn’t have an answer, but I was safe with Coby by my side. The rest would fall into place.

* * *

Coby and I didn’t talk about his arm again while we were home. We didn’t see our parents often, and Coby, with his schedule, saw his father even less frequently. So, we spent the holiday giving thanks for what we had as a family. The greatest thing about my mom’s dining room table was the power it held to bring us all together. Leaving at the end of the short break was harder than it had ever been in the past. For the first time since I’d left for college, I wished I could stay in the cocoon of our childhood.

It always took Coby a couple of days to settle into a routine during the off-season, but his withdrawal was more than his need to catch up on sleep and eat his weight in pizza. He blew me off when I asked about it, yet he refused to leave the house. The couple of times he’d been willing to talk, I heard the depression setting in, and whether Coby would admit it or not, I had to find him help.

The internet hadn’t proven to be the wealth of information I’d hoped for, and I was limited on where I could ask for help. I didn’t think anyone would connect me to Coby, but I knew better than to trust anyone with his name. It dawned on me, walking across campus, that the University of Alabama had one of the best pre-med programs in the country…which also meant there were numerous doctors on campus who were much more likely to assume my inquiry was related to Ryan.

It might’ve been a long shot, but it was worth the try.

Two days later, after countless hours of conversations, searching for professors, and asking ambiguous questions, I finally hit gold. Dr. Ambrose had been the Chief Neurologist at Emory in Atlanta before he retired to teach. He knew of a handful of physicians at the hospital who specialized in sports medicine, and gave me the names of two who were often used by professional athletes. Luckily, he hadn’t asked many questions, and had wished the former UAT first baseman a speedy recovery. I might have led him to believe he was helping an alumnus, but I was willing to answer for that little white lie if I got caught.

I didn’t mention my discussions with Coby. The odds of being able to find a doctor who could help him anonymously in the limited amount of time he had before Spring Training started were not in my favor. There was no point in getting his hopes up unless I had a plan. And since I was a blind squirrel trying to find a nut, I wasn’t all that confident in my ability to formulate one.

With Coby in Tuscaloosa all the time, it was hard to find a place with any privacy to reach out to the two practices Dr. Ambrose had referred me to. I ended up sitting in my car at the grocery store making calls to both. My cell phone got hot in my hand from being in use for so long, but I managed to secure an appointment with Dr. Chen next week. Now I just had to convince Coby to go.

My backpack hit the floor like a ton of bricks when I walked into the house. I shed my jacket, hung it in the laundry room, and left my purse next to the dryer. “Coby?”

There was no noise to be heard, but his car was in the garage, so he was here. I glanced at the clock on the microwave when I proceeded through the kitchen and realized I was two hours early coming home. I’d skipped my last two classes for the day, and after I had called out his name again, I cringed, thinking I might be interrupting something…or someone.

I crept toward his room and found Coby’s door open and him sitting on the edge of the bed. The noise-canceling headphones in his ears clearly did their job. He jumped when he noticed me watching him from the hallway, and I giggled in response.

Removing the buds so he could hear me, he asked, “What are you doing here so early? Everything okay?”

“Great, I think. I actually need to talk to you.”

“He turned off his iPod and set it aside. What’s up, E.T.?”

Coby was in a good mood, but I decided not to call attention to it and burst the bubble. I hoped to add to it. “I’ve been thinking about your shoulder. And I might have found a solution…at the very least, a viable option.”

“I’m listening…”

I stepped closer and leaned against the doorframe. “I talked to several professors in the pre-med department at school about it.” I held my hand up when his face flamed with anger. “I didn’t tell them it was you. And the only one I actually ended up really having a meaningful discussion with assumed I was referring to Ryan…you know, the guy I’ve been dating all through school who also happened to play baseball at UAT?”

He visibly relaxed, yet his cheeks didn’t return to their normal hue.

Dismissing his irritation, I continued talking. “Long story short, because the details are mundane, he gave me the names of two doctors in Atlanta who specialize in sports medicine. I made an appointment for you next week.”

Coby’s arm might not be a hundred percent, but his feet and his mouth worked just fine. He stood so fast I was surprised he didn’t get lightheaded, and his nose was inches from mine after two long strides. “What the hell were you thinking, Ellie?”

“That you need help.” I pulled my head back slightly, never having seen this side of him. In all the years we’d been friends, Coby had never raised his voice to me, much less gotten in my face.

“And destroying my career solves my problem? I thought I made it pretty clear to you at your parents’ house that I can’t just go see a doctor. Jesus, Ellie. The Braves are in Atlanta, do you have any idea how easily someone could recognize my name?” He pulled at his hair with his right hand before dropping it to a balled fist at his side. “I can’t believe you’d do this to me. Of all people, you’re the one person I thought I’d always be able to trust.” His chest heaved as he pulled in heated breaths.

“You’re an asshole, Coby Kyler! I’m not sure what’s happened to you or who you think I’ve become, but you should know, I’d walk through fire to protect you.” Stuffing my hand into the pocket of my jeans, I pulled out the piece of paper I’d written Dr. Chen’s contact information on and threw it at my best friend. “He does VIP medicine…and his patients pay big bucks to keep their information confidential. The appointment is in my name, not yours. So if you don’t mind, how about have the decency to cancel it if you’re not going to show up.”

I didn’t wait for the words to register before I stomped off to my room and slammed the door. When he called my name in a tone that indicated his misunderstanding, I ignored him. Ever since he’d shown up at Thanksgiving, I’d agonized over his situation, spent hours trying to find a solution, and even skipped class in hopes of coming up with something. And not only had he not given me the chance to tell him about it, but he’d assumed I’d betrayed him.

The soft knock on my door—seconds after I’d practically torn it off the wall slamming it—did nothing to calm me down.

“Ellie, please open up.” The sound of remorse in his voice almost made me cave.

The door wasn’t locked, and this wasn’t my house. I hadn’t stopped him from entering, even though I wanted to, and Coby knew I wouldn’t turn him away no matter how upset I got. I plopped down on the bed with my arms crossed and my lips pursed as he eased into the room. He was brave taking a seat next to me…especially on my right side. It was far too easy from this location to backhand his already injured shoulder if he kept up the attitude he’d had in the hall.

“I’m sorry. Everything has me on edge. I should’ve given you the chance to speak.”

Every once in a while, I tended to pout like I was still five, and Coby was the only person who put up with it. But where he normally laughed, today he pulled my arms apart and took my hand in his.

“You’re courageous.” I paused for effect and to give him time to question my statement. “One swift pull on that hand and you and your career would be done for.” The scowl still hung on my face, although it now took an effort to maintain.

Coby lifted my knuckles to his lips and kissed them before softly admitting, “You’d never hurt me, E.T.” He lowered our hands to his thigh but didn’t let mine go. “Will you tell me about the doctor in Atlanta, please?”

Offering him the information I’d been able to gather with what little I had to go on, I told him about Dr. Chen’s practice. His clientele were athletes like Coby, not necessarily those trying to hide things from their team, but professionals who needed—for a variety of reasons—to keep their medical care confidential. “This is exactly what you said you needed. He’s even willing to give us a list of agents we can contact for references on the athletes they represent. Coby, doing all this off the books, not using insurance, and appointments where no one other than staff is even in the office…it’s costly.”

“But there’s no way anyone will ever find out I was there?”

“According to his office manager, they even have a private garage and entrance.”

“Will you go with me?” I hadn’t heard that insecurity in his voice since before the draft. Coby had grown up a lot in the last few years—he had to. But that tone hadn’t come from Coby Kyler, the Major League Baseball player, it had come from my childhood friend.

“You know I will.”

With his hand still clasped with mine, he pushed the tips of our pointer fingers together. No matter how much time passed, we both still needed that reassurance from the other.

* * *

We left Tuscaloosa early that morning to make the three-hour drive to Atlanta to meet with Dr. Chen. His office manager had emailed me with instructions for how to get into the garage and building, and she indicated that we needed to plan to be there for the majority of the day. Our appointment was at nine, but I couldn’t imagine what kind of consultation would take so long.

Fort Knox had nothing on Dr. Chen’s office. When we finally got into the building, I was surprised they weren’t using retina scanning to permit entrance. I’d expected a run-of-the-mill doctor’s office, but this state-of-the-art setup was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. Coby completed the stack of paperwork one office person gave him, and we waited to see what happened next.

I wasn’t prepared—neither was Coby—for the consultation to turn into a full-blown evaluation. I listened as my friend detailed for the doctor what he’d been experiencing for months—the pain, the burning sensation, the numbness—and kicked myself for not seeing the signs. He’d been in agony every time he stepped onto the mound, but he was too concerned about letting his team down and losing his contract that he’d tried to fight through it.

Dr. Chen listened attentively, asking questions when necessary and then outlining the need for nerve testing and physical therapy. Worst-case scenario, the doctor explained, he might need surgery. He believed Coby had suffered a brachial plexus injury and had either inflamed or possibly torn one or more of those nerves.

“The nerves control the muscles of the shoulder all the way down to the hand, as well as feeling in the arm. As with any other injury, the treatment depends on the severity and how long ago it happened. But physical therapy is crucial in the recovery process. You have to maintain mobility to prevent the joints from stiffening and not allowing them to work properly.”

I wished I’d brought my laptop, or at the very least, a pen and paper to take notes. This was information overload, and I’d need time to process everything he said. Although, since I had neither, the best I could do was try to memorize every word that came from his mouth.

“It’s possible that you’ve just stretched the nerves and they’ll recover on their own. However, the longer you wait, the narrower the window becomes to provide a full recovery.”

“How long would it take to know if it heals on its own?” Coby hoped to fly under the radar, but the more I heard, the less likely I thought that would be.

“Every body heals differently, but if you need surgery and it’s not done within six to seven months, the scar tissue can become so dense that treatment is challenging. After that, you may never regain full function.”

Never regain full function.

Those four words echoed in my mind and distracted me from the conversation.

“I don’t have time for all that. I can’t risk showing up for Spring Training unable to play. No one knows I’m here—not even my coaches. I just renewed my contract with the Titans for ten years—I have to have this fixed. Quietly.”

Dr. Chen regarded Coby with a gentle smile. Where most people grinned when they were happy or laughing, the older doctor perpetually kept one on his face and in his eyes. “Mr. Kyler, we can certainly skip the nerve test and PT and go straight to an MRI, but I have to be honest…these types of injuries can be tricky—”

“I’ve already had an MRI. That’s how the team’s physician ruled out rotator cuff damage. Wouldn’t it have shown up then?”

“Unlikely. MRIs can be done on multiple planes, and those that determine rotator problems aren’t the same as those used to diagnose issues with the brachial plexus.”

Coby’s right hand went to the back of his neck to knead the muscles. He dropped his head and continued to talk. “How soon can you get the MRI set up?”

“We can do it today. We have the equipment here and a radiologist on staff who will provide us with a detailed report in less than an hour.”

I shouldn’t be surprised by what money could buy, but since I’d never had any, this still shocked me. Normal people waited weeks to get scheduled for an MRI and then another several days for results. Not Coby. He essentially just hired his own private physician, and it wouldn’t put a dent in his bank account.

“Let’s do it.”

By mid-afternoon, Coby had the start of an answer… He also had surgery scheduled in eight days. And no one—other than me—had any idea about any of it.

The ride home was quiet. I was still in awe of just how many zeros had been on the bill Coby paid when we checked out. And I couldn’t begin to fathom the estimate the office manager had given him for the same VIP treatment at Emory. Between the two figures, there were people who owned houses that didn’t cost as much.

“Is 98 Degrees going to be okay with you staying home for Christmas to help me?”

Coby not only needed someone to take him to the surgery, stay with him, and bring him back home after he was released, but he would also need help once we got back to the house.

“I’m sure he’ll understand. It’s not like any of this can be helped.” Yet in reality, I didn’t think Ryan would be the least bit compassionate. “You know I have to tell him the truth, right?”

“Yeah. I just hope he can keep his mouth shut.”

That part I had no doubt over. He might get a tad bit jealous of Coby at times, but he loved me, and I trusted him.

* * *

Broaching the subject of Christmas with Ryan wasn’t going to be pretty, and Coby didn’t need to be around to hear any of it. So, I waited until Coby made plans with Gage and then I invited Ryan over to break the news.

“Ellie, my parents are expecting to meet you at Christmas. We’ve been together for three years, and you’ve never gone home with me. They’re starting to wonder if you’re a figment of my imagination. I gave in at Thanksgiving about you going back to DeArmanville, even though you never gave me much of a reason for it—and that was with the understanding that Christmas would be with my family.”

“It’s not like I planned any of this, Ryan. If I’d known Coby was going to show up at Thanksgiving and our parents wouldn’t have been alone, I would’ve gone home with you then—”

“Wait a minute. What’d you just say?”

Crap. Crap. Crap.

“You never told me Coby went home with you.”

“He didn’t go home with me. He showed up at my window at two in the morning the night before the holiday, so I let him in.”

The color of Ryan’s face grew more intense with each word from my mouth, and his tone turned from disappointment and irritation to enraged disbelief. “Into your childhood bedroom…at your parents’ house? In the middle of the night?”

I waved him off, thinking he didn’t understand the innocence of it all. “He needed someone to talk to. It wasn’t a big deal, Ryan. Coby has spent the night with me more times than I can count.”

“In another room?”

I let out a sigh. “No. In my room.”

“You let another man sleep with you, in your room, at your parents’ house, and you didn’t think that was information you possibly should have shared with your boyfriend of three years? The same one who’s asked you to move in and you’ve turned down?”

I shrugged…and he mocked me, repeating the gesture.

“Are you fucking him? Is that why you won’t sleep with me? Or move in with me? Am I just some pawn you use when he’s gone?”

Before I could stop myself, I drew my hand back and let it fly across his cheek. The slap reverberated off the walls in the silence, and my palm stung from the impact. He opened his mouth wide and cupped his cheek. But I wasn’t done.

An eerie calm settled over me, and my elevated voice softened. I stepped as close as I could without actually touching him, and lifted my chin to stare into his steel-grey eyes. “I won’t sleep with you because four months ago your best friend knocked up my old roommate. He had to drop out of graduate school and she left college her senior year. I honored your request not to press for sex until you’d graduated so you didn’t face that fate, and I expect the same from you. And I never said I wouldn’t move in with you, I only thought we should wait until after I graduated and got a job.

“But let me tell you this, Ryan. Not you, not my parents, not school—nothing—will ever come between me and my friendship with Coby. You knew that the day we met. Either you learn to accept it and trust that I am—and always have been—faithful to you, or you need to move on.”

“You say you want to wait to move in together until you have a job, and you won’t have sex until you graduate.”

I nodded my confirmation.

“But you have no problem sleeping with Coby, or letting him foot the bill—not just for your education, but your living expenses, too. Do you not see the irony in that?”

I did see exactly what Ryan saw, and that was the reason I hadn’t given in to the things he asked for. None of this should have been this difficult.

“I don’t get it, Teller.” He hadn’t called me by my last name in ages. “What is it about him? Why does it have to be you? Can’t he hire a nurse or get one of his teammates to come hang out?”

Inhaling deeply, I tried to regain control over my emotions and keep this from turning into a decision made in the heat of the moment. I was seconds away from telling Ryan I was done, but I did love him—and I wanted to believe when I finished school I’d be happy with the same things he was after.

“He’s my best friend…has been since birth. If something happens, if this surgery goes wrong, he’ll lose everything.”

“I’d hardly call a ten-million-dollar guarantee losing much,” he scoffed.

With another deep breath, I counted to ten and closed my eyes. I reopened them and began speaking when I thought I could continue rationally. “Ryan, he wouldn’t just be off the team—all of his friends would be gone. He isn’t like us. Coby went straight to the Majors. He didn’t get a college degree. He has no one here, and the few guys on the team who do live here travel constantly.”

“He’d find something new to do, Ellie.” I hated the condescending way he’d said that sentence.

“You’re right, he would. But it most likely wouldn’t be in Tuscaloosa. Coby would sell the house and go back to DeArmanville, and there’s nothing there for him, either. Losing baseball wouldn’t just end Coby’s career—it would end Coby.”

I turned and walked toward the door, opening it to allow him to exit. He gawked as I stood there, waiting with the front door wide open and my eyebrows raised. I didn’t have anything else to say. I wasn’t going to change my mind about any of it, and I refused to continue arguing. Playing dirty wasn’t my forte, and I didn’t care to defend myself against someone who questioned my loyalty.

He closed the distance between us, but before he stepped over the threshold, he leaned in and kissed my cheek. “I love you, Ellie, but I’ll never play second-string for anyone…not even you. You need to figure out what it is you want out of this relationship, and how Coby may or may not fit into that. The last time I checked, he wasn’t making life plans around you.”

* * *

Ryan gave me a day to cool off before calling and apologizing. The sincerity in his words urged me to find a solution instead of breaking my promise about Christmas. I’d pacified him by agreeing to drive to Birmingham, where his parents lived, to have lunch with him and his family on Christmas day. We spent several hours actually talking about the things he asked of me, his perception of my relationship with Coby, and where we were headed.

Neither of us were foolish enough to believe the fight hadn’t done damage, but I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel, and neither was he. I forced myself to acknowledge how difficult it must be for anyone in a relationship with either Coby or me to deal with the special connection we have. And I knew if I couldn’t—or didn’t want to—put Ryan first by the time the school year ended, the only fair thing would be to let him go. But that thought crushed me as much as putting someone before Coby.

I’d done nothing but think about those two men for days. Thankfully, I’d arranged to sit for my exams early, so school wasn’t taking a backseat to my relationship woes. Sitting in Coby’s private room while he was in surgery did nothing but make me further question being with Ryan. Maybe it was the thought of losing my best friend while he was under anesthesia, or the fact I knew I’d have to give him up to have a normal relationship, but when I pictured my life when I was old and grey, it always included Coby. The image of him in a rocking chair next to me on a huge front porch was one I’d had since I was young. But even then, in that daydream, he was my best friend—not my significant other.

Dr. Chen startled me when he opened the door and interrupted my thoughts. The smile I’d seen on his face when we’d first met with him was there now, and I prayed that was a good sign.

“Miss Teller.” He extended his hand. “He’s in recovery but won’t be there long before the nurses bring him back here.”

“How did it go?”

“I was surprised to find the amount of scar tissue that was present.” He took a seat next to me on the couch beside the bed. “I mentioned that brachial plexus injuries typically occurred in contact sports—football, wrestling—or some other type of trauma.”

I nodded, hoping he’d hurry up and get to the point.

“It can also happen during childbirth. And based on what I saw when he was on the operating table, I would bet this has been there since then.”

The details of Coby’s delivery hadn’t really been shared with either of us—at least not that I was aware of—but my mom had told me enough about her friend’s death that I knew Coby’s delivery had been traumatic. And if this happened at the same time, that meant it happened twenty-one years ago.

“But you said the surgery had to be done within a few months to be effective, so what does that mean for Coby?”

“For now, it means a lot of physical therapy and rest.”

His dark eyes were kind. He hadn’t brought me great news, but for some reason, I still wanted to hug him…but I refrained. I didn’t need Coby rolling in on a gurney to find me hugging the doctor with tears in my eyes. He’d swear it was all PMS motivated, and then offer to watch Titanic. I’d never live that night down.

But when he finally showed up, he was groggy and half-asleep. They’d given him pain medicine, and he slept the rest of the day while I watched Lifetime on the fifty-inch television mounted on the wall. I pushed the couch closer to his bed and held his hand before finally drifting off myself. If he woke in the middle of the night, he shouldn’t be alone.

Coby was a far better patient than I expected. He slept on the ride home, while I called his dad, the only other person who had any clue of what was going on, to update him. And for days after, we did nothing but lie around, eat pizza, and watch movies from the eighties. Ryan even came by a few times and hung out with both of us. I recognized his efforts to build a friendship with Coby—he even laughed at Coby’s pop culture references at Ryan’s expense.

I dreaded leaving him for Christmas, but his dad would be here before I left, and five hours away from him after three solid weeks of togetherness wouldn’t kill either one of us…and it meant the world to Ryan. I just hoped in the end, all the sacrifices paid off.

If Coby lost baseball, and I lost Coby, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to handle it.