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“You’re ambidextrous?”

“Not really,” I hedge

“Well you’re usingthe hammer”

“Trying to use both”

“Your right one hurts” After she says this, her gaze falls down to her shoes before it lifts back up to ht, aren’t I?”

I roll the shoulder “Pretty obvious?”

She nods “I can tell it bothers you I noticed you swingthat about you—that you throw a baseball left-handed And I would have, because we’ve got a lot of children who’re lefties”

“Yeah, fucked up the shoulder”

Her brows draw together “Is there no fix for that?”

“Oh, yeah There’s a fix”

“Why haven’t you been fixed?” She gives me a no-shit look, and I can’t move as a cold sweat hits me—at the word “fix”

I feel my teeth start to chatter, clamp my jaw shut as my shoulders treet around to it yet”

“Before your trip here?” She looks skeptical—or maybe it’s dissatisfied

I nod “Gonna try a few things when I get back”

“What’s the story there?” With ain I pausemy eyes shut What the fuck did she just ask me? Story…