Page 31 of Curveball: The Baby and the Grump

“You’re not a blip,” he says, squeezing, and I’m so glad he can’t see my face right now because my eyes are tearing up like I’m about to cry.

“Jackson,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “You’re never like this.”

“I’ve never felt like this before,” he confesses quietly.

Neither of us quite knows what to say next, so we just lie still, wrapped in each other’s arms, our breathing synchronizing in the stillness. This should be awkward, having just opened up so totally to each other, but it feels right. I don’t want to push this any further because I don’t want him to retreat, but it does make my heart flutter to know he’s feeling all this for me.

And it’s not a question anymore. I feel exactly the same for him.

I think I might even love him.

And much as I’d love to cuddle all day long, eventually nature starts calling and I roll over to face him. I press one gentle kiss into his lips then say, “I have to go pee.”

He pouts hard at me, and I laugh. “I’ll be right back.”

“You’d better be.”

I go as fast as I can, then jump back into bed. “What’s the plan today, then?” I ask.

“What do you mean, the plan? Isn’t having a sexy, lazy day enough?”

“A sexy, lazy day?” I scoff. “And there’s the Jackson I know.”

He sweeps me back up into his arms, and I feel myself melting again. “It’s not all bad, though, right?”

And with that, I know I’m completely gone. “No,” I whisper, kissing him and giving in. “It’s not.”

CHAPTER 17

JACKSON

Sweat is literally dripping from my forehead as I leave the hospital from my physical therapy. I like my PT. I mean, I hate her while I’m doing the exercises because it makes my arms ache like crazy, but Doctor Minogue really knows her stuff, so I can’t complain too much.

Sure, I don’t want to do the exercises, but I need my arm to get better more than anything else in the world. And for my elbow to start working again properly, I have to do my exercises. It’s as simple as that.

Plus, I have Freya to tell me off when I get lazy, and it doesn’t hurt when Doctor Minogue says that I’ve been doing a great job and my progress is fantastic. Who doesn’t love a bit of ego stroking?

I linger at the main entrance, wishing I had a towel. I’m a bit earlier than I expected to be, so I’m just hanging out, watching people come in and out. I still don’t like the hospital, but now I’ve been coming more often, I’m finding myself less freaked-out by it. Kind of.

I’m glancing around absently, then I suddenly grin and wave as I spot a certain blond young woman heading towards me. In a stroke of epic luck, I managed to get a PT appointment that aligned with the end of Freya’s shift so we can do something fun this afternoon. So, finally, I’m going to take her for that dinner I’ve been promising for ages.

She gives me a little wave as she gets closer, and I can’t help but think about how cute she looks in her scrubs. Hardly anyone can make medical wear look good, but somehow Freya manages it.

“Okay, I’m here,” she says. “How are you? How was Doctor Minogue?”

“She says I’m doing fantastic,” I brag. “She says my arm’s going to be back to business in no time.”

“Brilliant! That’s great, Jackson. I’m so pleased for you!” She reaches out to take my hand and raises up on her tiptoes to kiss me, which takes me by surprise so I flinch away.

Sensing my discomfort, she sinks back down and backs off, grimacing in embarrassment. I want to reach out for her, to say sorry, but I can’t figure out how to, and by the time my brain unfreezes, she’s already sweeping the awkwardness to the side, pretending it doesn’t exist. “Come on, let’s get going.”

Before she can give me any other chance to redeem myself, she’s off. I shouldn’t have flinched, but it’s hard not to when this isn’t the kind of affection you’re used to. Girls usually like me for my rugged good looks, my status, and hot nights, not for cute dates and holding hands.

But Freya feels different. I don’t want people to look at her and think she’s just my arm candy. I want people to realize what she means to me. Unfortunately for her, being blond and gorgeous means that being seen kissing a baseball legend means people are only ever going to think I’m using her for my own gain.

I know it’s not like that, and I hope she does too. But this is all I can do to protect her from that.

“And how was your day?” I ask as we walk.

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