Page 123 of The Strike Zone

The batter swung. And missed. The ball spun.

I reached out to catch it. But instead of hitting center of my glove, it found a different target.

In less than a second, my life flashed before my eyes.

I’d never felt pain like this. Searing uncontrollable pain.

My entire body convulsed like it was trying to turn me inside out. Every cell, every nerve ending exploded as I tried my hardest to stay upright.

And then I hurled my guts up, rolled over, and passed out.

Thisfuckingday.

THIRTY

SCOUT

The doors slammed back as I charged through them.

I barely slowed to check which direction the hospital reception was, which in hindsight, I should have, seeing as I ran right past it. The nurse behind the desk gave me one of those withering looks only a nurse who has years of dealing with bullshit under her belt can deliver as I skidded to a halt and tried to catch my breath.

“Parker…King…brought…in…” I puffed, squeezing the stitch running down my left-hand side. Ireallyneeded to exercise more.

Without saying a word, and barely glancing at me, she typed into her computer and pointed behind her. “Second floor.”

“Thanks,” I cried, taking off again. At least the elevator forced me to stop running, allowed me to take a full breath, and gave me another chance to rub away the pain in my side.

I glanced down at my phone as it buzzed.

Alice: Where are you? Ava’s looking for you.

Yeah, I probably should have told someone I was leaving before I took off. But that would have required common sense and rational thinking, and after seeing Parker go down and get stretchered off the field, I was all out of that.

This wasn’t just a simple baseball injury.

I’d been out on the boardwalk watching on the big screen when he went down. I’d heard the ambulance red light him away, and after Pablo had told me he’d been taken to Columbia Pres, I’d flagged down a cab to get me there as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately it got caught in traffic around Madison Square Garden, so I hopped out and ran the rest of the way, forgetting it was nearly fifteen blocks.

But I didn’t matter, as long as I got to the hospital and could be with Parker. The only place I wanted to be.

As soon as the doors pinged I was back running again, only this time the reception was right in front of me, so I didn’t get far, and the nurse behind the desk was slightly less judge-y than the one downstairs, but only by a fraction.

“How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Parker King. I was told he’s on this floor.”

One thick eyebrow raised at me, and her lips pursed. “Are you family?”

“I’m his…um, his…girlfriend.”

God, could I sound any less believable? They must have a dozen people in here every day trying to pull the girlfriend card. Columbia Pres was the number one hospital in New York for sports injuries, and the city’s teams certainly kept them busy.

“You’re going to need to sit and wait over there, I’m afraid.” She nodded to the chairs behind me.

“Can you tell me what’s happened?” I blurted, realizing I didn’t actually know, because flicking through different social media channels to find the answers hadn’t helped. About as helpful as the staff here.

“No, I cannot.”

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