Page 49 of Strike Zone

“Can you grab my pants?” I wretch again. “Actually, there are sweats in the top drawer in the closet. The gray ones.”

He retrieves them for me and returns to find me propped against the tub with my head leaning back. If only the room would stop spinning for a few minutes, we could blow this popsicle stand.

Dropping down to his knees at my feet, he slips one foot and then the next into my sweats and slides them up my legs before lifting me just enough to pull them the rest of the way.

“You’re not sneaking anywhere, southpaw. You’ll need to make peace with me carrying you out of here.”

“Yeah, I’m okay with it, but can you hand me the mouthwash first?”

“Good deal.”

“And yet again, I’m providing the ultimate sexual experience.” I quickly rinse my mouth and spit into the toilet bowl. I’m long past trying to be sexy at this point. The man just watched me puke sans pants, and then had to put the damn things on me like a toddler or some ancient relic.

He slides his hands underneath me. “Wrap your arms around my neck.” I do as he asks, but I have no strength to hold on tight. As he lifts me into his arms, my shoulders sag, exhausted from weeks of constant worry. “I’ve got you, southpaw.”

I nestle my head into his chest, breathing him in as he navigates to his room. “Can you grab my keys?” He nods his head toward the tall dresser by the door, and it takes all my strength to pick them up. I hold them close to my chest and close my eyes, letting him take care of me for once.

I’m not sure how he gets us out of the house without alerting the Lexington clan, but he does, and for that, I’m eternally grateful. He buckles me in, and I curl up in a ball, resting my head against the window as he drives us to the nearest emergency room. I drift in and out of sleep, so physically and emotionally drained. I’ve been trying to hold everything together since I found out about the baby, knowing my career isn’t conducive to motherhood. There isn’t a maternal bone in my body.

When we arrive, I’m still too weak to walk, and I’m growing more and more anxious by the second. He needs to know. I have to tell him. He cradles me in his arms, striding into the emergency room like I’m the most important person in the world.

“I need whoever’s in charge here. She needs to be seen. Now.”

“Sir, you need to fill out insurance forms, and then she’ll be triaged and seen according to priority level.”

Tension radiates off him, his body coiling like a spring, ready to pounce at any moment. “Listen…” he peers at her name tag, “… Karen. An apt name for her. She looks like a Karen. I’m going to need you to have someone see her now. She passed out, and I’m not carrying her for shits and giggles. She can’t fucking walk.”

“Sir.”

“Look, I don’t want to be that guy. The asshole. But I will. For her, I will. We were being… intimate, and she went limp in my arms. I’m good, Karen, but I’ve never been capable of literally fucking a woman until she passes out.”

He did not just say that. If the ground could open up and swallow me whole, now would be the time.

“I… I…” Karen is officially speechless.

“If you knew her, I guarantee she’s a ballbuster of epic proportions, and under normal circumstances, she’d rather be carrying me in here in a fireman’s lift, and I’d let her, Karen.” All eyes are on us, and whispers begin to fill the waiting room.

“Linc…” I whisper, “… people are starting to pull out their phones.”

He lowers his voice. “Also, I should’ve led with the fact that we’re both sporting celebrities, and if we hang around the waiting room, our pictures will be all over TMZ and Instagram within the hour.”

She rolls her eyes in resignation, ushering us to a back room and away from prying eyes, but I’m afraid it’s too late for that.

“You’re the man, Mr. Nash!”

“I can’t wait to watch your fight, Dee Lex.”

Suddenly, my head is a bowling ball attached to my neck, too heavy to hold it up.

“I fucked up.” Linc’s voice is suitably filled with contrition.

“Makes sneaking out of the house pointless. I’m sure Brooke and my parents will love reading about you ‘fucking me until I passed out.’ Good breakfast conversation for sure.”

“Okay, new plan. We don’t go back to the house. I drive us to the airport, and we leave the country.”

“Now that sounds like something I’d come up with.”

“See, we’re made for each other.”

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