Page 17 of The Way We Swing Back

“That’s... not true,” he said, eyebrows lifting. “And even if it were, who cares? Don’t measure progress based on what you used to do when you were healthy. It’d be like judging a sprinter based on how fast they run with a broken ankle.”

I tried not to roll my eyes, but he had a point. A stupid one. A right one.

“Still feels dumb,” I said.

“I know,” he said. “Baseball’s your identity. Losing part of that is gonna sting.”

The words hit harder than any band exercise. No one had ever said it out loud. Not even Tanner—who tiptoed around the topic like it might explode. Or I might explode. Which I might, if I had to contemplate life without baseball.

“And recovery isn’t linear,” Nate added. “Your brain is learning to trust your shoulder again.”

I paused mid-rep. “My brain?”

“Yeah. It remembers the pain. It’s gonna fight you sometimes.” He tapped the side of his head. “Half the work is up here.”

I hadn’t known that was a thing. Or that my brain had shut off like a car engine after midnight.

When the session ended, sweat clung to the back of my shirt. My arm trembled with fatigue. The good kind of fatigue. Maybe.

Nate handed me a printed sheet with diagrams of the exercises to do this month. “Keep at it. You’re doing good work—even if you don’t believe me.”

I folded the paper and shoved it in my pocket. “Thanks.”

Outside, the cold hit fast, burning my lungs. Snowflakes caught in my hair as I walked to the Quinns’ house. Four of the Quinns—including Tanner—were checking out a college Zach wanted to visit. I’d been invited but declined, determined not to miss a single PT appointment.

Mrs. Quinn had asked me to spend the weekend at their house with Gavin. Not exactly a babysitter, but pretty much.

“Gav, I’m back!” I yelled when I opened the front door. No response.

I made my way up to Tanner’s room, where I’d slept last night. It had been weird sleeping in there alone, but what could you do?

I grabbed clean clothes and headed for the shower, my body a mix of sweat from the workout and the shivers from the walk home. The warm water sprayed my head like a relief valve—about as close to happy as I got these days.

The door swung open and snapped me out of my trance.

“Dude!” I said, covering myself even though I was behind a curtain.

“What?” Gavin’s voice rang out. “I only wanted to say hi.”

“You couldn’t wait until I wasn’t naked?” I said, relaxing slightly.

“Who cares? We’re both guys.”

“Boundaries, Gavin,” I said, rubbing soap on my legs, trying to finish fast.

“It doesn’t bother me. Zach and I do it all the time,” Gavin said, missing the point. The sound of the toilet seat shutting rattled around the small bathroom.

“Are you taking a poop?” I said, rinsing my legs.

“No, just sitting so we can talk.”

“Bro. We can talk when I’m done in the shower.”

“I’m bored, though,” he whined. “But I was thinking, if a shark fought a bear, the shark wins, right?”

I ignored the question, turning off the water and letting my body drip as I reached around the curtain to grab my towel.

“Never mind then. Do you want to get pizza later?” Gavin asked as he scrolled his phone.