“I know they mean well,” I say, “but I just…”
“You want to make your own decisions,” she finishes.
I nod heavily. “Right, but I…I think I’ve been worrying lately that I’m making the wrong ones.”
“What do you mean?”
“What if they’re right, Abby? What if it’s utterly stupid for me to hang on to this season when it could meannevergetting another one?”
“That’s a choice only you can make,” she tells me. “It’syourlife, Jack. You have to live it the way you think is best.”
I let my hands settle at her waist then, not giving a damn if someone walks in on us or not. I dip my head until my forehead rests against hers, blowing out a breath.
“I’m trying,” I say. “I just don’t know if I’m fucking it all up.”
“You won’t fuck it up either way,” she says assuredly.
I can’t help but snort. “And if this doctor tells me I’ve made a bigger mess of my arm?”
“Then you get the surgery,” she says. “You do it becauseyoumade the decision to. You fix your shit and you come back next year ready to play, if that’s what you want.”
“But we’re so close to the cup,” I mourn.
Abby wraps her arms around my middle, squeezing me.“There will be others, if that’s what you want. You can do anything you set your mind to, Jack.”
“Why does it not bother me when you say stuff like this?”
“Because you know I’m always right.”
I huff out a laugh. “You know they’re going to wonder about you coming to comfort me.”
“Let them,” she says quietly.
I lean back, bringing my hands to her shoulders and gripping her there so I can get a good look at her face. “Really?”
“Maybe you were onto something with the whole telling people idea.”
I rear back in surprise. “You’d want to?”
“Maybe not…tonight,” she says with a wince. “I mean, you kind of left a mess back there.”
I grimace. “I did. I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s okay,” she tells me. “I get it. Really. Just go out there and say you’re sorry, and everything will be fine.”
“I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately,” I sigh.
“You’ve had a lot happen,” she says. “And everyone in your life seems to have an opinion about it. Of course it would get to you.”
“My sweet baby shrink,” I laugh softly. “Always knowing what to say.”
“I’ll be sure to drop your bill in the mail.”
“That gets funnier every time you say it,” I deadpan.
“Now you know what it’s like living with you.”
“Touché.”