Chapter 47
Teagan
For someone who’s used to being active every day of my life for the past twenty-four years, forcing myself to rest fucking sucks.
I’ve been doing it for three weeks now, and it’s been driving me stir-crazy.
Of course I’ll do anything for my baby. I just might do it with some complaining.
At least tonight I’d have some company as Clara and Kaya are coming over to watch Game Two of the World Series.
The girls were both able to make it work in their schedules to come here for the weekend when I told them what happened, and I couldn’t be more grateful for them.
The Panthers won last night, and Quentin’s hoping to bring that same energy as he’s pitching tonight.
Since we got home this morning, he waited on me hand and foot, helping me shower then bringing me water and food until he had to leave.
While I think it might be overkill, I appreciate the sweet sentiment because I know how protective he is. And I’d do the same if the roles were reversed.
Clara and Kaya arrive with food from our favorite restaurant, Taste of Mediterranean, just in time before the game starts.
We’re sitting on the couch, eating and catching up when Kaya asks, “So, who has good gossip?”
“Well, I’m pregnant and on bed rest. So my life really isn’t interesting anymore.” I blow a piece of hair out my face as I pout, my eyes drifting to the TV as Quentin delivers a strike and the third out for the inning.
He’s been on fire this game, and so far they’re up 1-0. It’s not a great lead, but it’s something.
“Nina called me the other day.” Clara clears her throat, looking less like her upbeat self.
“Is everything okay?” we ask in unison.
“I might be getting bought ,” the words are said with a mix of joy and unease. It’s clear she’s unsure how she feels about it.
“What? Why?”
“Where?” Kaya adds.
“To Winchester United, in London. Effective at the beginning of the new season if it goes through.”
“Doesn’t that mean you’d be in the premier league? Which is the best league in soccer?” I ask, trying to figure out why she’s upset about this. “And it would be closer to your parents. Ireland isn’t a far flight from there.”
“It is, and I know that. But I grew up here, with you two, and I’ve loved playing for the United Stallions,” she explains, wringing her hands together.
“And you’re afraid you’re not good enough to play for Winchester, don’t you?” Kaya sees right through Clara, getting to the heart of it.
“Yes. They’re offering me an insane amount of money, and I’ll be playing alongside the best player in the league, Silas Rivers. So that’s intense.”
“He’s hot, though. Maybe you’ll hit it off.” Kaya shimmies her shoulder against Clara’s, making her laugh.
“Not a chance. I can’t stand him. Plus, I have a no fraternization policy for myself,” Clara says, but I don’t miss the way her cheeks tint pink.
We leave it at that, moving on from boys and work while we focus on the game as it’s in the final inning.
The Panthers are home, giving them the advantage as they get to hit last in case Florida decides to score and tie it up right now.
I watch as Quentin takes the mound, his head swiveling as he looks for something, and lands on what I’m assuming is the camera.
Because he’s staring right at the screen, almost like he’s looking at me, and mouths I love you.
A widespread grin fills my face, making my cheeks hurt as I rub my belly.
“No, he didn’t!” Clara’s mouth falls open.
“That’s the sweetest thing.” Kaya smiles at me. “You’ve got a good one.”
“I know we do,” I reply just as she kicks inside me, telling me she knows too just how lucky we are.
I watch raptly as he gets into the zone, rubbing his foot into the dirt a few times to get his spotting just right. With his glove held up close to his face, he winds his arm back, leg up, and then twists and releases a pitch that the batter swings at and misses.
The crowd is on their feet, cheering and losing their minds as they’re one strike closer to ending the game, and leading the series 2-0.
Two more wins, and they will win the series. World champions.
I want it so badly for him that I’m sitting forward, watching nervously each and every movement on the field.
He strikes the batter out, and I let out a sigh of relief. One out down, two more to go.
God, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to watch the next two games if I’m already this stressed.
The next batter steps up to the plate, and this time, he makes a connection, sending the ball deep into left field. I watch in horror as the ball bounces off of the tip of the outfielder’s glove and onto the ground.
Fuck.
By the time the ball’s picked up, the batter is on second base and the crowd is quieter than they were a minute ago.
Because if the next batter hits a homerun, they’ll be up by one. There are so many scenarios to score, and it’s got everyone on edge.
Including myself.
The next batter makes contact as well, but this time the ball’s caught, giving them the second out they needed.
One more and it’s over for tonight.
There’s still a runner on second, but I’m doing my best to ignore it and pray that Quentin just strikes this guy out.
He swings and misses at the first pitch, one strike down. The next is a dirty curve ball, one that he misses as well.
Clara, Kaya, and I are on the edge of the couch, leaning forward as we watch eagerly for the last pitch, hopefully of the game.
Quentin winds up and releases the ball, and when the batter makes contact, it goes right back at Quentin.
It happens so fast, my heart stilling as I watch the ball soar right back at Quentin’s face, but thankfully, he catches it and stumbles back from the blow.
Instead of the celebration that I thought would happen, there’s an uproar. Fans are booing, and suddenly Ian is on the screen as he runs up to the batter and shoves him.
Both teams are rushing toward them to pull them apart, with many players getting into side scuffles as they do.
“Holy fuck,” Kaya murmurs as we watch it unfold.
I’m speechless as Quentin pulls Ian off the batter and holds him back, shouting something that the cameras don’t pick up.
The teams disperse back to their sides, forgoing the handshaking tonight.
“What the hell just happened?” Clara asks.
“I’m going to guess that your brother thought the batter did that on purpose. That’s why he lost it,” Kaya guesses, and I have to say, I think she’s right.
“These guys know how to control a ball, and usually stuff like that is done on purpose. Whether to throw the pitcher off with a jump scare, or to potentially injure them,” I add, feeling uneasy about Quentin or Ian playing these next few games.
Hopefully, they win the next two in Florida and win the Series.
If they lose any games, it’ll mean more time spent with a team that seems keen on not going out without a fight. Literally.
And the thought of anything happening to either of them makes me sick to my stomach.