All To Myself//Christian Yelich

Moneyball?

"No surgery. First cast then brace plus physical therapy and then conditioning." The doctor rambled on. No surgery was a good thing, but he still had a long road ahead. 

The couple hadn't been to Christian's place yet. They'd gone straight from the airport to the hospital. Christian made a few calls, and the organization issued a statement on his behalf. As he spoke on the phone with his family, she called up her brother, putting the phone to her ear, she waited patiently for him to answer. 

"Do you know how early it is?" He groggily complained. 

"I do, and I wouldn't have called if it wasn't important."

"How bad is it? I saw it on SportsCenter." 

"He fractured it, but he doesn't need surgery." 

"And you're staying to take care of him?"

"I am. I know that you're not—"

"No. You should stay. I'll explain it to the guys."

After having a special, flexible cast placed, the two finally headed to Christian's apartment. Upon entering, Roosevelt took in how much homier it was than hers. Rich colors complimented by hardwood. With ease, she helped him to his room to sleep. The doctor had given him strong medication to deal with the injury. The script was for two weeks; Roosevelt was hoping to keep him off them as much as possible. The vast amount of addiction stories stemming for injury caused the woman to be cautious at every turn. 

Once he was fast asleep in bed, Roosevelt went to check on his food supplies. As she went through the kitchen, it was apparent that the bachelor did not cook often, granted he had all the pots, pans, and utensils, but next to no fresh food. She checked the time, it was now midmorning, so she'd be able to get supplies and start helping him recover. 

Quickly changing out of his game jersey, Roosevelt swiped a t-shirt and Brewers hoodie. She redid her hair up into a messy bun, grabbed his keys and a five-hour energy shot, her phone, and headed out. She also sent him a text, letting him know where she was heading.  

 Luckily, according to Apple Maps, a Whole Foods was a block or so away. Normally, she'd make a list, but he had nothing. Knocking back the five-hour energy and tossing it into a nearby garbage bin with precision, Roosevelt heavily sighed, but immediately felt the caffeine flood her system. 'it'll feel good til I crash.'

Upon entering Whole Foods, Roosevelt found herself mindlessly pushing the cart up and down aisles, grabbing her token items and what not. As she browsed the produce, she became glaringly aware that people were staring and/or watching her. At first, she thought it was her hair, but then she glanced down at the jacket. She'd grabbed Yelich's NL Series jacket that wasn't available to the general public. 

'Oh shit.' She spat to herself. 

Offering a small smile to those around her, she continued to choose fruit and vegetables til a voice broke the awkward silence. 

"Is he going to be okay?" A voice questioned. Turning, her caramel eyes landed on a young blonde boy. He couldn't have been older than 10. 

"You're his girlfriend, right? The one that ran onto the field?" The boy pressed with earnest. 

"Yes, yes I am." She paused and raised her voice so all the other nosy shoppers could hear her. "I'm actually here to help him get better. Now, I can't give guarantees, but he and are I gonna work on getting him ready by Spring Training."

"Really?!" The boy asked with a large smile. His mother came forward, gave an apologetic look, and made the boy move on. Surprisingly, as Roosevelt took in the crowd, not a single person had their phones out recording. She could get used to Wisconsin. Giving a small wave to everyone, she moved on with her shopping.