28. No Crying in Baseball
TWENTY-EIGHT
NO CRYING IN BASEBALL
ISABELLA
After our near miss with the paparazzi the morning after the gala we’ve been more careful.
We never go out anywhere together anymore.
Ryan started doing the coffee runs on his own until he bought a fancy espresso machine so I can make it myself at his place.
Our post-game In-N-Out ritual was axed. Anything to avoid another situation where we can get caught.
Ryan barely lets me leave his side whenever the team is home, which means I spend most of those nights at his place.
We’ve had a few sleepovers at my place after spending time with Jordan, but quickly nixed those when one of my neighbors recognized him.
Now we stick to his place, a fact I’m sure Jordan is overjoyed by anyway.
Living with a roommate when you’re also having the best sex of your life?
Two things that definitely shouldn’t go together.
July’s heat turned into a sweltering August, turned into a milder September.
The Suns clinched a spot in the playoffs and it’s the second to last week of the regular season.
Ryan and the team are pushing themselves harder in practices, getting ready to make their run for the World Series.
I think they’re going to do it. Not that I know enough about the other teams to make that assessment.
But it’s a gut feeling I have. They’re going to make it to the World Series.
The sports program is in a really good spot, granted it’s only been in full swing for the MLB so far, but I’ve already started to implement it with the local NFL team, using their pre-season games as a trial run. And come October, we’ll do the same with the NHL and NBA teams.
I’m scrolling through emails on the football implementation, which is probably why my brain doesn’t immediately process the stadium-wide gasp that rings out until the silence breaks through my focus.
Ever heard that saying about silence being loud?
Hell, Taylor Swift even has a song lyric about it.
And damn was she right, because I’ve really never heard how loud silence could be until this very moment.
My head pops up from the phone to see Annie and her co-presenter both staring out at the field from the studio with looks of equal shock and horror.
Maybe a fan fell from one of the upper decks. I’ve read articles about it happening before. That would be horrific.
I peek over at Jamie and see the same expression on his face as I sidle up to him. “What happened?” I keep my voice a low whisper with how quiet it is in the studio.
He flicks his eyes over to me for a minute before turning them back to the field. My view is still obstructed by the camera equipment and crew members crowded around the wall of windows trying to get a better look at the field below.
“I didn’t get a good look at the play, but it looks like someone’s down. He must be hurt real bad for everyone to be this quiet.”
My stomach curdles at the thought of any of the Suns players being injured. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m friends with them yet, but some of these guys are friend adjacent. And they mean so much to Ryan. They’re practically family.
“Do you know who it was?” I ask as I try to poke my head around the obstacles blocking my view.
“No, but…” He trails off and gives me a wary look that makes my stomach roll.
“But what, Jamie?” Bile rises in my throat, as if my body knows exactly the next words he’s going to say before he speaks them.
“But… it’s over near first base.”
My head rears back and I stumble a step.
His words crash into me like a freight train.
No. No. It was the batter that was injured.
Or the outfielder was too close to first base that it just looks like first base.
Or even the pitcher. I’ve seen Hunter take over at first while Ryan runs to field a ball to get the out.
I shake my head, but the adrenaline and fear racing through my body tells me I should trust my gut on this one.
I vaguely hear the presenters asking the analysis team in the booth to replay the footage.
I find myself edging around the room enough so I can get a view of the monitor over someone’s shoulder.
And right there, clear as day, I watch Cooper snag a grounder from the third base line and launch it like a rocket across the field to Ryan at first.
Where it clips the tip of his glove and hits him square in the chest.
And he collapses.
My hands fly to cover my mouth and stifle the involuntary gasp.
Come on, Ryan. Get up. Get up, get up, get up. Get. Up. Please.
The more I stare at his motionless body on the replay, the more overwhelmed I become with this feeling. A feeling I’ve never felt before and can’t quite identify. And as we watch the medics and trainers race onto the field to assess him, the feeling gets worse.
It’s potent and all-consuming.
It’s worry and concern and fear.
So much fear.
It’s gut-wrenching and heart-breaking.
And… that’s it.
It’s love.
I love him.
I’m in love with Ryan Fletcher.
The one man I wasn’t even supposed to start dating, let alone go and do something stupid like fall in love with.
But that’s the last thing I’m concerned about because right now the man I love is hurt and not moving, and I feel helpless because I can’t do a single damn thing about it.
I stumble back a step with the realization as tears start to burn my eyes.
No. I can’t cry here. I cannot cry right now. I need to breathe. To pull it together.
I need to get to him.
But I can’t.
Not right now.
I’m supposed to be working.
And no one’s allowed to know.
I look back out the window of the studio and see the medical team and all the players still circled around Ryan sprawled out on the field.
I feel the warmth of a body come up beside me, but I keep my face shielded from view.
I know that if anyone were to look at me right now and see how I’m very clearly breaking down, they’d know.
It would be written so plainly across my face that I’m head over heels in love with this man and I’m completely terrified for him.
“We’re not airing the close-ups so we don’t have any more footage, but the cameras who have a clear enough angle say he’s still not moving.” My stomach drops and my heart stalls at Jamie’s words.
“That’s—” My voice catches in my throat. I clear it and try again. “That’s terrible.” God that’s such an understatement. I’m amazed I can even hold myself upright.
“Very.” He’s silent for a moment. “Which is why you need to go.”
“W-what?” I whirl around to face him and see the concern and sympathy softening his expression.
“Go, Isa. Be with him right now. You know you won’t be your best self when he’s down there…” He trails off, not wanting to finish the sentence. Which I’m glad for because I don’t even want to think about ways he could’ve.
“You—you know?” I whisper, looking around the room to make sure no one else is listening.
He offers a soft laugh. “Of course I know. Well, I’ve suspected for ages, and you just confirmed it. But that’s not a conversation for right now. Go, Isa.”
I offer him a curt nod before I grab my bag off the floor and race out of the studio, down to where the players’ medical room is.
I fly down the stairs until I reach the first floor, flashing my all-areas access pass to every steward and security guard I pass without slowing.
By the time I’m pushing through the double doors into the clubhouse, I can hear the commotion as a group enters from the field.
I barely slow my pace until a hand reaches out and drags me behind a wall, out of sight.
I’m panting, lungs constricting from the exertion, as I stare up into the face of Cooper.
He has both hands on my upper arms, simultaneously keeping me in place and holding me up.
Fear, worry, concern, and love for Ryan shine in his eyes.
Probably just as intense as my own. He gives me a watery attempt at a smile.
That’s my trigger.
My legs give out and he wraps his arms around me to keep me on my feet as I fist his jersey and sob into his chest. He adjusts his grip so one arm holds me up and the other gently strokes my hair.
“Shh, Isa. I know. I’m so sorry. It was my throw. I’m so sorry.” His voice cracks as he continues to hold me tight.
“It’s not your fault,” I whisper. I feel him shake his head against the top of mine as a response, but choose not to start that argument right now. “What are we doing over here anyway?” I ask instead.
“I knew you’d come down and wanted to catch you before you burst into some place you shouldn’t be. I know you and Fletch are still keeping things on the down low and I didn’t want you to bust yourself with this.”
“God, I was absolutely about to do that, wasn’t I?” I pull back slightly so I can see his face. “You’re a good friend, Coop.”
“Not good enough,” he says, voice thick with emotion.
Okay, guess it’s time for that argument. “Cut that shit out right now Cooper Lennox or I swear to god,” I say as harshly as I can manage in the moment. “It was a freak accident. Is he— is he going to be okay?” Now it’s my voice that’s cracking.
“Fuck, I don’t know, Isa. I really don’t. I think he was starting to wake up as they were getting him onto the stretcher, but I don’t have all the details.”
I let out a choked, hiccupping sob, and he hugs me back into his body. “I love him, Coop,” I mumble into his chest.
“I know you do,” he says as if this isn’t news to him.
“I haven’t told him because I was scared.”
“I know that too. But so does he.”
Cooper holds me and strokes my hair until I can get my breathing and sobbing under control. He finally releases me from his arms and looks over my shoulder. “Let me go see if I can find anything out before I sneak you back to see him. Okay?”
I give him a shallow nod, wrapping my arms around my middle for comfort.