Touch & Go (The Midwest Series #3) - eBook

CHAPTER ONE
MAY 15, 2013 – SKOKIE, ILLINOIS


Micah Warner awoke, squinting into the dark as he wondered where he was. The rattling snores reminded him. Cook County, Illinois.

A shithole apartment in Skokie with walls thin enough to hear every snort and gasp. Every pause when Levi Paynes rolled over in his sleep. Or maybe it was when he stopped breathing. Some nights, Micah wished the first baseman would do a whole lot less of the breathing thing. Micah understood now why no one had wanted to share an apartment with him. No one had wanted to put up with the goddamn snoring. Micah hadn’t had any choice since it was the only open team apartment, and they didn’t have any more host families available. He sure as hell couldn’t afford anything else.

Though to be fair, he was getting used to the snoring. It wasn’t what had woken him.

No, it was something far worse.

Micah sat upright in bed, then carefully rolled his shoulders back one at a time. The left wasn’t so bad. Tight, but nothing to worry about. The right … he felt a catch mid-roll, freezing when a sharp stab of pain made him draw in a deep breath.

Fuck.

Micah breathed through the pain until it slowly faded.

After a few minutes, it settled to a low, deep ache, but the remaining fear made his heart race. Knowing he’d have a hard time falling asleep, Micah got out of bed and trudged to the kitchen. The city lights streamed in through the windows and guided his way past the sagging sofa in the living room and the boxes he hadn’t unpacked yet. At least, the freezer was cold and stocked with ice packs. He settled one over his right shoulder, not even bothering to wrap it in a towel. The shitty wall-mounted air conditioners in the apartment could barely keep up with the mid-May heat and humidity, so the icy plastic felt good against his bare, sweaty skin.

Micah walked back to his bedroom, keyed up from the anxiety and worry zinging through his body. He settled onto his bed again before rearranging the ice pack over his shoulder for maximum effectiveness. Not as good as having it taped on by an athletic trainer, but it would do. The green glow of the clock said it was 2:47 AM. Fuck, he’d be tired tomorrow. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself, but it would take hours before he’d fall asleep again.

This was the third night in a row he’d woken in pain.

Micah was used to pain. Used to pushing his body to the limit and collapsing into bed at the end of the day, exhausted and aching. He knew how to play through muscle cramps and mental fatigue. He’d competed with pulled hamstrings and a sprained arm. As a kid, he’d even fractured his fingers during practice but waited to tell his coach until after they’d won the championship game a week later. Baseball hurt. He was used to that. But it had never hurt like this.

Don’t do this to me, he pleaded with his body. Don’t fail me now. I’m so fucking close.


***


As Micah pulled up to the Skokie Cougars’ stadium the following morning, the faint rattle of the exhaust on his car signaled he would need a muffler repair soon. As he parked in the lot for staff and the team, he noticed the gas tank was almost on empty. He would have sworn he’d filled it a few days ago. When he got out of the car, he noticed rust forming on the wheel well.

Aggravated, he slammed the door shut. He’d hoped to have at least another year or two before he had to either invest a lot of money on upkeep or sell the car off and buy something new.

Micah was barely scraping by now. The pay for playing for an A-level minor league team was crap and the hours were grueling, so it wasn’t like he could pick up another job until the season was over. He felt guilty the moment the thought crossed his mind.

Goddamn it, you made it to the pros, he reminded himself. Be grateful.

Baseball at the professional level was tough and uncompromising, but he’d spent his whole life dreaming of the moment when he’d reach this point. He was one step closer to his dream.

The pride filling Micah Warner’s chest every time he approached the doors of the Cougars’ stadium was like nothing he’d ever felt before. From the moment he’d gripped a baseball in his hand as a five-year-old, it had felt like it belonged there. Over the years, the red stitching biting into his palm had given him an anchor. A purpose. A plan. When everything else around him crumbled, as long as he had a ball to let fly, the world made sense.

He’d pitched his last game as a Western Michigan University Bronco on April 21st. He’d put a Skokie Cougars’ jersey on his back for his first pro game on April 23rd and pitched for them on the 24th. It had been a whirlwind couple of weeks since then.

And while Micah was still a long way from the major league contract he’d dreamed of for years, he was closer than he’d ever been before. That had to count for something, right? Otherwise, what had all the sacrifices been for?

Micah pushed open the stadium doors as a voice rang out behind him.

“Hey, Warner!”

Micah turned to see Justin Lamb, the Cougars’ tall, blond physical therapist jogging toward him. Great. The last person he wanted to deal with right now.

“Lamb.” Micah held the door for him.

“How’s the shoulder today?” Justin asked as they fell into step together. In the past week, Micah had been in the training room icing his shoulder frequently. Of course, almost every pitcher iced after a game unless he was riding the bench, but Micah had been in there during practices and after workouts too. Justin had offered to examine his shoulder, but Micah brushed him off. The last thing Micah needed was to end up on the disabled list because of an overzealous physical therapist. The moment an injury was recorded, it created a paper trail the organization would use to evaluate Micah as a big-league prospect. There was no way in hell he would risk that. Unfortunately, Justin seemed like the persistent type.

“Better,” Micah lied. The deep ache in his shoulder wasn’t there all the time but enough it worried him. Last night had been bad. Really bad. He wasn’t looking forward to tonight’s game against Quad Cities.

Justin gave Micah a skeptical look as they walked down the hallway. “You sure?”

“Dude, I’m fine. It’s a little sore and tight, but nothing I can’t handle.”

Justin pushed his hair off his face, gathering it into a knot at the back of his head, but some of the gold curls sprang out, refusing to stay contained. Micah fucking hated man buns but, damn it, somehow, Justin made them look good. The motion made his biceps bulge, and Micah looked away, swallowing reflexively.

Shit.

Justin made a lot of things look good. At six foot one, few men made Micah feel small, but Justin had a good three inches on him, and his body was every bit as honed as the guys on the team. At least, from what Micah could tell anyway. Justin didn’t hit the showers after games with the rest of them. Which was probably just as well since it had been too long since Micah had gotten laid. Way too fucking long.

That was clearly the problem, or Micah wouldn’t be drooling over a dude with a man bun. And at the last place he ever, ever wanted anyone to find out he was gay.

“Why don’t you let me take a look at your shoulder before practice?” Justin said softly. “Just to be on the safe side. You’re holding it stiffly when you walk.”

“Why were you watching me walk?” Micah challenged. Everyone knew Justin was gay. Micah’d had a couple of guys on the team warn him under their breath shortly after he joined.

Though Mike Berrera—a centerfielder—had shrugged when it came up in conversation. “He’s great at his job. Who gives a fuck?”

But people did give a fuck. They gave a lot of fucks. So many fucks Micah knew he’d made the right choice to keep his own sexuality under wraps. He’d recently watched his former classmates Nathan Rhodes and Brent Cameron bust their way out of the college sports closet and blow up blogs and newspapers. Micah saw the hate spewed toward them online, and it made him doubly certain of his choice.

Sure, there was support. The social justice warrior types who kept raving to anyone who would listen that Nathan and Brent were so brave for “being true to themselves”. The whole thing made Micah want to vomit. Being true to himself was making it to the majors like he’d promised himself he’d do. Taking care of his mother and sister. Being the man his father had never been.

Maybe after they were set for life he could come out, but not before then. Nathan and Brent were going into careers where nobody gave a flying fuck who they, well, fucked. Micah didn’t have that luxury.

A warm hand landed on Micah’s shoulder—his left—and he jerked in surprise, which sent a twinge through the right shoulder, and he snarled, “What?” as he turned to face Justin.

Justin held up his hands. “I said I’m watching you walk because it’s my job to make sure everyone on the team is healthy and safe. So, I want you to come into the training room for a few minutes and let me look at your shoulder.” His tone left no room for argument, and Micah knew if he refused, he’d wind up with a reputation as being uncooperative, which wouldn’t help his chances either.

Micah sighed. “Fine. Whatever.”

He followed Justin into the training room, trying to look everywhere but at his lower half. Justin wore khakis and a green polo shirt with the team’s yellow and white logo on it for fuck’s sake. No one should look hot in khakis. Ever. And yet … goddamn, the man had an ass on him. The paper crinkled as Micah took a seat on the training table, flustered and annoyed by the attraction. It was more than inconvenient. It was dangerous.

“I’m going to manipulate your shoulder. Relax and let me do the work.” Justin’s hands were warm as he carefully explored his shoulder. Micah’s pulse skyrocketed at the touch, and he was suddenly glad he wasn’t hooked up to any kind of monitoring equipment right now. It would give him away in a heartbeat. Literally.

“So how are you liking the Chicago area? You moved here from Michigan, right?” Justin asked.

“Yeah, but I’m originally from California,” Micah said, grateful for the distraction of small talk. “I went to Western because they offered me the best incentives. And Chicago’s okay. It’s not like I’ve had much time to go out or anything. I haven’t even been downtown.”

The Cougars’ stadium was located in Skokie, Illinois, on the outskirts of Chicago. It was only fifteen miles from The Loop, but Micah had never been to the heart of the city. Since he’d been in Illinois, he’d had fifteen games on the road, seven at home, and a grand total of two days without any game at all.

“Yeah, they work you hard here.” Justin grasped Micah’s elbow and wrist and manipulated Micah’s arm until his elbow was alongside his ribs and bent at a 90-degree angle.

Micah tried to relax and let Justin do the work, but it was a struggle. His touch was distracting. Justin straightened Micah’s arm, then moved one hand to his shoulder, sliding up under the sleeve of his T-shirt.

“I promise I’m not trying to be inappropriate here,” Justin said in a soothing tone. “I need to feel the motion of the joint, and I can do that more effectively without fabric in the way.”

A sarcastic quip rose to Micah’s lips, but he swallowed it back. “I know. And look, I’m sorry about the comment I made earlier.”

Justin paused, staring intently at Micah’s face. “I understand it may be new for you to work with a therapist or trainer who is openly LGBTQ, but I’ve never behaved inappropriately with a patient. I take my job seriously, and I wouldn’t jeopardize it. And I’d certainly never do anything someone didn’t fully consent to in any situation.”

Micah didn’t know where to look. He definitely couldn’t meet Justin’s gaze right now. “Yeah, I know,” he said gruffly. Now he felt even more shitty about what he’d said. Micah had to be so careful about making any misstep that could make people question him. It was bad enough outside of sports, but now that he was on a pro team, the pressure was even higher. Other people being out made him antsy and uncomfortable, and he had a bad habit of lashing out. He just didn’t know how to stop.

Justin continued in a calm, professional tone. “If I ever do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, please tell me. But your health and safety are my top priority. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that either, and I don’t want my sexuality to stop you being honest with me about any issues you’re having.”

“Right. I get it.” Micah shifted on the table. “I’m sorry. I was an ass, all right?” He glanced up at Justin then and felt a funny little lurch in his stomach as their gazes met and held. Justin’s eyes were so blue against his lightly tanned skin that Micah had to look away.

Justin cleared his throat and used his right hand to straighten Micah’s arm out in front of him. His left was still on Micah’s shoulder as he lifted Micah’s arm straight in the air, then brought it down through a full range of motion.

When Justin brought the arm forward again, straight out but crossed slightly over Micah’s chest, he gently rotated Micah’s hand so his thumb pointed downward. It brought their faces closer together, and the front of Justin’s khakis brushed Micah’s bare knee. He felt an answering tightening in his stomach at the contact.

Christ.

It had been way too fucking long since he’d last gotten laid. Brent Cameron was the last guy Micah had fucked but that was over now. Micah hadn’t had time to say goodbye to him or anyone else in person. He hadn’t even stayed long enough to go to his own graduation. He’d arranged to take his exams early, packed his car, and headed to Illinois. He and Brent had texted a few times since then, but that was it.

Other than his mom and sister out in California, Micah had no real ties to anyone. Anywhere.

“I’m going to push down on your wrist, but I want you to resist me.” Micah blinked and focused back on Justin. Resisting the pressure wasn’t hard. Justin wasn’t using much force, and it didn’t take any effort to keep his arm level with his shoulder.

“Good resistance,” Justin praised. “Any pain when I do that?”

“Nope.”

Justin rotated Micah’s arm so his palm faced the ceiling. “And resist.” Micah did.

“Any pain then?”

“No.” There was a little twinge but nothing too major. Nothing worth mentioning.

Justin let go of his arm. “Lie down on your back, please. I want your shoulder off the edge of the table.”

Micah did as instructed while Justin grabbed a small rolling stool and scooted closer. Micah stared up at the ceiling while Justin went through a whole range of motions with his arm again, He wondered if this was what his life would be like now. Would the impersonal touch of team staff and bro hugs and ass slaps from his teammates after a good pitch or a winning game be the most physical contact he’d get? And for how long? He’d promised himself the game would come first at all costs, but it had begun to get lonely, and he’d barely started.

Mental discipline, Micah reminded himself sternly. That’s what it takes. You’ve got this, Warner.

Sex had always been Micah’s outlet for stress. Baseball and sex. Except now the pressure of being in the pros had increased, and his other outlet wasn’t an option anymore. Which meant he had … nothing. The pressure was building and building inside of him, and he was terrified he wasn’t strong enough to keep it contained.

Justin rested Micah’s arm on his stomach, then rolled back from the table. “You can sit up now,” he instructed. “Are there any clicks or pops when you work out or throw?”

Micah swung his legs around to the side of the table.

“No.” He couldn’t look Justin in the eye. He was definitely lying now. Though it didn’t happen all the time. Just occasionally.

“Hmm. Well, I didn’t feel any clicking or popping during my exam either, but I want to keep an eye on it. It’s one of the major signs of SLAP lesions. You’re familiar with them?”

Micah nodded. Every pitcher was familiar with the shoulder injuries out there. SLAP lesions were some of the scariest. The labrum was the ring of cartilage surrounding the socket of the shoulder joint. Repeated use tended to make it fray or tear. Labrum injuries were one of the major career-ending injuries for pro pitchers out there. But that couldn’t possibly be what Micah was dealing with. He shuddered at the thought. It had to be a strain or something.

Twenty-two games in twenty-four days wasn’t something his body was used to. He would have played half as much in college ball. He hadn’t pitched all of them, of course. He was a starting pitcher, and like most minor league teams, the Cougars had a five-man starting pitcher roster. But they’d been out a pitcher when he arrived, so he’d needed to get up to speed immediately.

Non-starting days weren’t off days either. Micah still warmed up with the team, doing light stretching and drills. Warm-ups and shutdowns in the pen. Batting practice too since they were affiliated with a National League team and he had to be decent at hitting the damn ball. Plus, workouts. The stadium had an okay workout room, but like most of the guys, Micah also used the local YMCA when he could. It allowed him to do more cross-training like swimming laps. He was pushing himself harder than he’d ever done in the past, and his body needed time to adjust, that was all.

The alternative was too horrifying to consider.

“Are you feeling any instability?” Justin continued, and Micah shook his head. “Or like you’re losing power?”

Micah shrugged. “Power’s been a little inconsistent. I’ve been working with Morton to refine my pitch since I got here though, so it’s not a huge shock. It’ll go back up once I adjust.”

Ken Morton was the pitching coach for the Cougars. He’d only had a few years of major league ball under his belt before an injury sidelined him. So far, Ken seemed like a solid pitching coach, and Micah worked his ass off to prove to Ken he had the skills. With sixteen other pitchers on the roster, Micah needed to do something to distinguish himself. Especially since he’d joined the team after spring training. Even being offered a contract was something of a miracle, so he was determined to work as hard as he could to prove he deserved it.

Justin continued. “Well, you have a negative apprehension score, which is encouraging, and I’m not feeling any instability at this point either. If you do feel any instability in the joint or increased pain, I need to know. If you feel any pops or clicks, tell me immediately. I’m hopeful it’s just hypermobility. I see that all the time with pitchers. It’s necessary for the extreme range of motion required to do your job, and frankly, I expect to see greater than normal rotation and increased mobility. You’re a textbook example.”

“So, you’re saying it’s normal?” Micah shifted on the table. “The amount of hypermobility I have, I mean.”

“For a pitcher, yes. But it’s also a problem because it causes instability.”

“Right. I try to vary my personal workouts a lot, so I focus on different muscles.”

“That’s great. Do you use resistance bands regularly?” Micah shook his head, which made Justin frown. “Damn it, I am seeing that too often with college coaches. They’re trying so hard to produce power pitchers and not worrying enough about making sure you guys have long careers.”

“Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it,” Micah said.

The tension in Justin’s face eased. “Glad to hear it. I’ll set you up with some simple exercises using resistance bands. The workouts you do there”—he gestured to the small weight lifting area—“and at the Y are great. They’re getting all the major muscle groups. But sometimes, the smaller ones become neglected and need a little more attention. It’s not going to feel like you’re working them hard with the bands, but it really will help stabilize the entire area, which is crucial. You’ve got to be consistent.”

“I can do that,” Micah said. “Look, I’m not here to fuck around. I’m here to make a name for myself and get promoted to the next level.”

“Give me a sec.” Justin disappeared into his office and returned a few moments later with a couple sheets of paper. “Try these. The diagrams break this down quite thoroughly, but let me know if you have any questions.”

Micah scanned the pages. “No, this looks simple enough.”

“Keep your movements small and even. Go slow. Focus on control and precision over speed and don’t use your momentum. You need the resistance to build up your strength.”

“Got it. How often should I do them?”

“Daily, if you can squeeze it in. Three sets of twenty-five reps for each exercise. Keep the top of your shoulders down and away from your ears during the lateral lifts and your shoulder blades down and back during all of the exercises. That’ll keep your form solid. Do you have any bands at home?”

Micah shook his head. “I can pick up whatever I need.”

“Nah, don’t bother. I think we have an extra one here.” Justin disappeared again for a few minutes, then returned with a single long skinny elastic band. Their fingers brushed as he handed it over. “Feel free to take that home. Just don’t forget to toss it in your suitcase and use it while you’re on the road. I know it’s tough when you’re beat from a game or being on the bus for twelve hours, but consistency with things like this will do you a world of good. An ounce of prevention and all that.”

“Yeah, okay,” Micah agreed. “Anything else?”

“I know Morton and the other coaches are working you hard but be careful not to overexert yourself. I’m going to talk to Morton about it so we can keep an eye out for any significant decreases in power. That’s one of the most obvious symptoms of a labral tear, and I want to be on top of any potential issues before they become catastrophic. This week, I’ll come watch you practice with him so we can look at the biomechanics of your pitch and see if there are any tweaks to tighten it up. Unnecessary motion or extension can cause additional strain, which we don’t want.”

“Right.”

“I know you’ve been doing it already but make sure you come in after every practice and game to ice your shoulder. Feel free to ice it when you’re at home watching TV or whatever too. Keeping the inflammation down will only be helpful. Twenty or thirty minutes on every few hours is great. Don’t go overboard with over-the-counter anti-inflammatories, but used judiciously, they can be helpful. Make sure you drink plenty of water though. It’ll protect your liver and kidneys.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll consider cortisone shots if you’re not seeing any improvement in stiffness and discomfort in the next few weeks and I don’t have any additional concerns about SLAP lesions. I will have to write up the exam I did today, but since I found nothing beyond mild overexertion, it won’t raise any flags.”

“Thank you,” Micah said gratefully.

The left corner of Justin’s mouth turning up in a little smile. “Unless you have any questions, you’re all set for now.”

Micah hopped down from the table and turned to go.

“Oh, and Warner?” Micah turned back to face Justin. Damn, he has a nice smile. “If you want some suggestions for places to go in the area, let me know. I don’t live too far from here so I can give you some tips on which are the best bars, restaurants, or clubs when you do want to blow off some steam. I see a lot of guys burn out fast when they don’t take the time to take care of themselves during the season. You have to find balance, you know?”

Micah had one goal, and it was to make it to the majors. He didn’t have time to go out and party, but he’d humor the guy. “Sure. Bars and restaurants would be great,” he said with a tight little smile. He didn’t have the money to go out much, and he really didn’t want to go to clubs and fake an interest in the women there. He probably should go occasionally though to protect his rep and throw anyone off the scent. Ugh. He really wasn’t in the mood. He worked too hard here to have the energy to pretend to be someone he wasn’t. “I doubt we go to the same clubs though,” Micah continued, his tone joking. “What with you being gay and all.”

“Bi, actually. But, yeah, my last couple of serious relationships were with guys.”

Micah gaped at him.

Justin shot him an amused glance. “What? Didn’t expect that?”

“I don’t get it. You’re telling me you have the option of being with women and you’re choosing to be with dudes and be public about it? In sports?” Micah was flabbergasted. One of the guys working out across the room glanced over at them.

Justin crossed his arms over his chest, and Micah tried not to notice how his biceps bulged under the short sleeves of his green polo. “I’m choosing to be open about dating men and women. I don’t choose who I fall in love with.”

Micah rolled his eyes. Oh, Christ. He was one of those guys. “I don’t understand why you’d purposely make your life any harder than it has to be. That’s fucking crazy.”

“It does make it a little harder, maybe. But what about the younger kids who see me doing it? Who realize it can be done so they can live authentically? That’s worth a little discomfort on my part.”

“You’re sacrificing yourself for them?” What a bunch of stupid bullshit.

“I’m not sacrificing myself at all. Sacrificing myself would be hiding in the closet and lying to everyone I know.”

Micah froze, staring at the wall behind Justin’s right shoulder. Shit, he didn’t know, did he? Could Justin tell Micah was gay and doing exactly what he described? A wave of nausea washed over him. He couldn’t look Justin in the eye for fear he’d give everything away. This was their first personal conversation, and it had already delved way too far into dangerous topics. It wasn’t just fear of Justin reporting problems with his shoulder that had kept Micah away.

“Sometimes, you’ve gotta do what’s best for you and fuck everyone else,” Micah replied, his voice sounding tense and strained to his own ears.

“Seems like something that’ll be hard to maintain long term. And there’s a high cost to it,” Justin said gently.

“Yeah, maybe. I wouldn’t know.”

But that was a lie, wasn’t it? He and Justin might be on opposite sides of the issue, but Micah sacrificed himself too. For his family. And they could never know.

Not when he had so much to lose.

This ebook contains scenes involving internalized homophobia/self-loathing/shame, parental abandonment, and injuries/medical content.

Ebooks are delivered instantly by a link in your confirmation email. As backup, by an email from our delivery partner, BookFunnel.

You can read the ebooks on any ereader (Amazon, Kobo, Nook), your tablet, phone, computer, and/or in the free Book