Cruz is at my side, a warm washcloth gently swiping between my legs, and he hovers over me with creases lining his forehead. “Was it too much?”
“Not at all,” I say, shifting to my side so we are face-to- face. “Everything with you is better than the last. If you weren’t about to be late I’d be on my knees begging for more.” My hand comes up to cup the back of his head as my lips slant over his.
“Now that’s something I want to see.” He ducks his head kissing my forehead. ”I wish I didn’t have to leave. You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Better than okay. I promise. I’d tell you if it was too much.”
“I don’t like the idea—”
“Listen to me carefully.” The last thing I want is for him to think that I can’t handle what just happened. If he takes this away from me, I might cry. With him I feel more alive than I ever have. “I love how considerate you are, but in this case, it’s unnecessary. I’ve never been with anyone that makes me feel as confident and comfortable as you do. You didn’t do anything that I didn’t ask for, but if you don’t like it or it’s too much for you, then we won’t do it again.”
“Fuck, no. Mi Cielo, you were a goddamn fantasy. I just don’t like the idea of leaving you right after. That was intense.”
“I’ll be with the girls, not alone. As soon as that game is over, your ass better be back in this bed with me, giving me more amazing firsts.”
“Well, now I kind of feel like a piece of meat.” Kissing me one more time, he pushes off the bed to dress and leave for the stadium. “But I think I can live with it.”
Cruz peels me off the bed and drops one last kiss on my lips, followed by an overly pat on the ass for motivation to get ready for dinner with the girls.
I’m in seventh heaven watching Cruz play in St. Louis. Despite the fact that this city holds some of his worst memories, he’s having a stellar game. He hasn’t said it, but I know that me being here for this road trip has helped him keep his demons at bay. When the team takes the field at the start of the fifth inning, his eyes find me while he runs out to his spot in the outfield. And because my best friend is as goofy as he is sexy, he wiggles his fingers at me in an adorable wave.
The Bandits continue to fight back against the Commanders even though the home team ties it up going into the sixth. His next turn up to bat Cruz steps to the plate with Hendrix already at second. The team needs this hit desperately if they want to break this tie.
Although his pitching has been steady tonight, Miller looks decidedly off-kilter right now. He keeps shaking off the signs from his catcher. And the way he’s glaring while he gets settled in the batter’s box is unsettling. I wipe my damp hands on my shorts before I lock Poppy and Mia’s hands in a death grip as he gets into his stance.
Cruz’s face is twisted in contempt as he waits for him to pick his pitch. There’s no love lost between the two of them and the arrogant pitcher is a big part of the reason Cruz was okay with a trade to Denver. I can hear the blood pounding in my ears as I wait for the pitch, impatient for it to be over.
As soon as the pitch leaves Miller’s hand, my stomach sinks and rage takes over as I push to my feet. It happens so fast that I don’t have time to turn away. A blood-curdling scream leaves my body as the ball hits Cruz in the side of the head.
Poppy’s arms band around me, locking me in place to keep me from turning towards the field. My breath is coming too fast and Mia rubs my back in circles, trying to calm me down. I can tell by how eerily still the stadium gets, it was as bad as it looked. In my ear, Poppy chants, “He’s going to be okay. You hear me? He’s going to be okay.” I keep my face turned away, trying to not to think the worst as time seems to slow to a stop.
The murmurs surrounding us grow and Poppy’s grip on me loosens enough to let me turn to the field. Hendrix can’t leave the bag, but he’s crouched down with his hands in his hair under his helmet, helpless as he watches the medical staff help Cruz to his feet—one trainer on each side to steady him.
“I need to go. Get me to him.” I look at Janet, her wrinkled face etched in concern and her pale blue eyes watery. Hendrix grew up here, and she comes to every game in St. Louis. She knows the stadium better than any of us. Her thin hand wraps around mine as she uses her mom voice to clear the aisle and pulls me behind her.
I follow her as she hustles us through the stadium at a speed that’s impressive for her age. The hallways and corridors are a blur as she leads me to the lowest level where we find a security guard that takes pity on me and probably fears for his safety if he denies Janet with the way she commanded that I be let back to be with Cruz.
When he opens the door, she hugs me tight. “Go take care of him.”
Chapter 31
Sponge Bath Threats
Present
There’s no stopping the tears that pour down my face when security lets me back to see Cruz. All things considered, he looks okay. If it weren’t for the clammy, grayish sheen covering his skin and the far-off look in his eyes, you wouldn’t even know he was hurt.
“Is she riding along?” The paramedic that’s preparing for the transport to the hospital asks the team doctor. He looks down to where my knuckles are turning white as I clutch Cruz’s hand and then to where he has his bicep wrapped around the thigh closest to him on the exam table.
“It looks like it.” The older gentleman’s lips twitch before he gets back to work assessing the injury. “I’ll follow you to the hospital and speak with the doctor treating you here in St. Louis.”
Cruz nods, but the move causes his teeth to clench as he grimaces. “Sounds good. The sooner we get there, the better. I could use something a little stronger for this headache.” His voice is strained, like every word requires extra effort.
I shake my hand only now realizing I have pins and needles in my fingers from the death grip I had on his hand during the ride from the stadium. Once we get to the hospital, I wait alone in his room while the staff wheel him in and out for imaging and tests. As soon as the doctor leaves his room, he’s waving me over from the chair I’m sitting in with my knees tucked to my chest.
Those deep brown eyes I love so much are hidden behind his closed eyelids when I crawl into the bed next to him, careful not to jostle him. Blindly, his arm raises to allow me to slide closer. Once he has me tucked into the crook of his arms, he hisses through his teeth and relaxes against the pillow. They’ve given him some medicine to manage his pain, but it hasn’t kicked in yet.
“How are you doing?” I try to keep my voice calm, but a sniffle escapes me, giving me away. I feel my control slipping and bury my face in his chest, hoping to stem the tears before they start falling again.
