Making a Comeback by Kristina Mathews Page A

you.”
    “I’ve been working out at home, mostly.” Guilt at avoiding his friend and former teammate gnawed at him.
    “Keeping a low profile, huh?” His buddy gave him a friendly shove on his good shoulder. “Don’t have to worry about being interrupted by fans or groupies?”
    “I haven’t had to worry about either in a long time.” The two of them had been in the minors together. They’d been battery mates. Sanders had been one hell of a catcher and mentor. “The Colonel” was a mastermind behind the plate. He studied hitters and was always ready with a battle plan. Cooper didn’t think he would have developed as a pitcher without Sanders’ help.
    “Well, let’s get you back on track.” His friend welcomed him with another hearty back slap. “Get you back on the mound where you belong.”
    “I just want to throw a little today.” Cooper waited for his stomach to clench at the thought. But he felt fine. Almost normal. “Work my way up to getting back on the hill.”
    “You haven’t been throwing, yet?” Sanders gave him a skeptical look. They both knew he was behind schedule if he wanted to show up to spring training in any kind of playing shape. If he could manage to get a contract.
    “Been focusing on building my strength.” Or avoiding the possibility that he’d never be the same pitcher. “The doctor is very pleased with the repair. Says I should have no trouble returning to full strength by the time the season starts. But the worst thing I could do would be to rush my recovery.”
    Sanders gave him a stare. He could smell bullshit a mile away.
    “What’s really going on, man?”
    “I’ll tell you everything”—Cooper rolled his shoulders, anxious to get started— “after I make my throws.”
    “Okay. I’ll get Brandon to suit up. My nephew’s playing college ball, now. He’s one hell of a catcher.” Sanders had adopted the boy when his sister was killed in a boating accident.
    “You could probably handle me,” Cooper joked. A collision at the plate had ended The Colonel’s career shortly after being called up to AAA ball. He’d been so close to his dream. Cooper sometimes wondered how he managed to live with himself. “I’m not throwing hard. Yet.”
    “Still, I’ll let the kid warm you up.” Sanders led the way through the facility to the back, where there was plenty of space to warm up. “He’s better than I ever was. And he’s got a couple of weeks before he goes back to college. He’s a sophomore, so he thinks he knows everything. He needs to spend a little time with someone who’s been there.”
    “You don’t want me as a role model for the kid.” He was no hero. Not by a long shot.
    “We’ll talk. After you warm up.” Sanders shook his head. He’d been trying for years to get Cooper to at least consider joining him as a consultant once his playing days were over. He really wanted Cooper to become one of his coaches for his year-round baseball academy. He had a good staff of former minor league players. Guys who’d almost made it, but for whatever reason hadn’t gone all the way.
    Cooper had made it. And he’d pissed it away.
    “Sure.” He stretched his neck and shoulders, trying to get loose, and trying to get Annabelle out of his head. She was a married woman. But even if she wasn’t, she deserved better than a guy who’d been so careless with the gifts he’d been given.
    “Nathan Cooper.” Brandon approached Cooper with his hand extended. “My uncle’s told me a lot about you.”
    The young man stood a little taller than his uncle—probably six-one—a nice looking kid with a bright future ahead of him.
    “He’s full of shit.” Cooper shook the kid’s hand. “Don’t believe half of his stories about our playing days.”
    “Oh I know he exaggerated his accomplishments,” the kid played along. “But you’re the real deal, man.”
    Was.
    “So you’re trying to get back in shape, huh?” Brandon bobbed his head, trying to play it