Page 17 of Wild Pitch

I enterthe lobby of my building, exhausted from a long day of practice. I’m finally back in the rotation, so I spent the day preparing to take the mound for the first time this season. We got home yesterday from the first three games of our series in New Orleans, and we play here in Daytona tomorrow night.

I spoke with Taylor, and she told me that although we didn’t get to interact with the Durst family on the night of the charity event, everybody noticed a change in my demeanor. She’s been lobbying hard for me, and her words of praise combined with the way Monroe commanded the entire room have certainly paid off. I don’t know if trading me is still something they’re considering, but the fact that I’ll be pitching tomorrow night is a positive thing.

“Yes, I have a delivery for suite seven forty-two,” I overhear a young woman say as I pass the concierge desk. I turn in her direction immediately.

“I’ll take that,” I tell her. “That’s mine. My girlfriend must have made an order.” I’m a little shocked at how quickly the term rolls off my tongue, considering I’ve really only had a couple of chances to use it in public, but I guess it’s better than slipping around others and forgetting who Monroe is supposed to be to me.

The girl looks back to the concierge, who gives a tight nod in agreement. She extends her arm, the plastic drugstore bag dangling from her fingers for me to take as I reach forward.

“Thank you,” I say before turning and walking toward the elevator, pressing the button to go up and waiting for the doors to slide open. My curiosity gets the better of me and I peek into the bag, finding a box of tampons and some ibuprofen.

“Great,” I mutter to myself. Although she’s been pretty sweet lately, I imagine that a menstruating Monroe is some kind of a beast. My sister Grace used to have very heavy and painful periods when she was younger, and she always made sure the whole house knew she was feeling less than her best. It got to the point where Tanner and I scoured the internet for home remedies so she’d stop being so mean to us. That was why I did it, at least. But I have a feeling that he just struggled with the fact that she was suffering. He’s always been so protective over her, and now that they’re married, all of his actions throughout our younger years make a hell of a lot more sense.

The doors slide open, and I enter the elevator, nodding to the attendant who presses the number for my floor. The ride is short since we don’t make any other stops. It’s a little later than I normally get back from practice, so mostof the people who live here have probably been home from work for a while.

I prepare myself for whatever attitude is about to be slung my way as I finally reach the door to my condo and push my way in. The first thing I notice is how eerily quiet it is. For the past few weeks that Monroe has been here, she’s usually perched against the arm of the sofa at this time, working on her website or business plan. But when I peek into the living room, she’s nowhere to be found.

“Mayhem? Are you here?” I ask, already knowing that she is. We have assigned parking spaces in this building, and hers is right next to mine. Her BMW was exactly where it was when I left this morning, so I know she’s home.

My heart starts racing in my chest as I walk toward the staircase, hoping she’s just in her room or something. But when I get about halfway up, I hear a pained moan coming from the hallway. I’m immediately on high alert, picking up my speed and racing to the top. As soon as I turn I see a sight that terrifies me to my fucking core.

Curled up in a ball on the floor right outside the bathroom is Monroe, wearing only an oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties. I can tell immediately that this isn't like the day in the kitchen when she was faking an injury. This is serious. She’s completely still, but rapid, shallow inhales are moving her back up and down, so I know she’s at least alive and breathing. I drop the bag from my hand, run to her side, and kneel down.

“Hey,” I say, carefully placing my hand on her shoulder. A low groan comes from her body as she slowly turns toward me and opens her eyes. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just don’t feel good,” she replies weakly, attempting to turn herself and push up onto her hands and knees. She moves to crawl toward her room, but I stop her with a hand on her arm.

I know she probably doesn’t want to let me in on the fact that she’s having her period, but since I already know, I reach down and scoop her up into my arms. She halfheartedly tries to fight me but ends up sinking into my body and laying her head on my shoulder as she whimpers quietly.

I crouch down, briefly letting go with the hand supporting her back to pick up the drugstore bag from the floor and head down the hall. I bypass her room completely, turning into my own and gently laying her on the bed. She goes to protest, but I interrupt before she can. “This room has an attached bathroom, so it’ll be easier for you. You won’t have to walk as far.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t lie in your bed, Riggs. I might?—”

“I’ll grab a towel for you to lie on if that makes you feel better,” I say, letting her know I understand why she’s not feeling well. “But I promise you, a little blood doesn’t scare me.”

Her eyes go wide with worry for just a moment, but I can tell she’s too weak to argue with me. I don’t need an answer from her anyway. She’s not going anywhere.

I take the bag into the bathroom, pulling out the ibuprofen and filling one of the small glasses next to my sink with water. Opening the closet, I find a dark towel because I have a feeling that if she does happen to stain it, it’ll make her freak out more. Tossing it into the warmer for a minute, I bring her the meds.

“Can you take these for me?” I ask, helping her sit up so she can swallow them before making my way back to the bathroom and setting everything on the counter. I wash my hands quickly and grab the warm towel on my way out the door. I don’t have a heating pad upstairs, but hopefully this’ll ease some of her pain.

Returning to the bed, I gently pat her tattooed thigh. I fight to stop myself from focusing on the large piece because there’s so much detail that I’m sure I could study it for hours. Maybe someday she’ll let me.

“Lift for me,” I order softly, and she obeys, pushing her hips up off the mattress. She goes to grab the towel, but I don’t let her as I slide it under her body. She drops back down, swallowing thickly as she looks at me through tired eyes. I can see the gratitude in them, even if she doesn’t want to admit it out loud.

“Anything else I can do to make you feel better?” I ask, hoping she’ll be honest with me. I’ve seen my sister fight through this so many times, and if there’s something I can do to ease Monroe’s discomfort, I want to help.

She shakes her head. “I just have to wait it out. The first couple of days are always the worst, but this one is on another level. I promise I’ll be fine in time for your game tomorrow.”

I choke on a laugh, surprised that that’s what’s on her mind right now. “If you’re still feeling like this tomorrow, there’s no way in hell you’re getting up to go out. I won’t have you leaving to parade yourself around in front of people who don’t matter when you’re in pain.” She’s out of her goddamn mind if she thinks I’ll allow her to show up at the stadium when she can’t even walk right now.

She gives me a small smile, but it’s cut short as shepitches forward, both hands around her abdomen. She groans in pain, and my primal instinct to protect her kicks in before I can stop it. I rip my shirt over my head and slide my sweatpants down so I’m standing in only my boxer briefs before lying next to her in the bed. Her body goes stiff, and she tries to push away from me, but I don’t let her.

“Please,” I beg, my voice trembling with the adrenaline coursing through me. “Let me help you.” She wants to defy me by putting space between us, but she’s too physically weak. I want to kick my own ass for making her feel like she can’t trust me to care for her. I shouldn’t have fought her anger about my omissions with more anger that day at the boutique. I should’ve just explained to her that I wanted to get to know her without my job being the elephant in the room. I had never experienced the desire for more with anyone before that night, and I definitely didn’t handle the rejection well.

I see the moment she finally accepts my offer as the tension in her shoulders loosens. She takes a deep breath and nods, snuggling into my warm skin. I know I shouldn’t, but I press my nose into her hair, inhaling the scent that’s haunted my dreams since that night in Boston. My cock wakes up, beginning to harden under my briefs, but I will my erection away. The last thing she needs is to know what having her here in such a vulnerable state is doing to me.

“Can you roll over with your back to me?” I ask, knowing it’ll be easier to keep my body’s natural reaction a secret, but I also feel like I can ease her pain better if I have access to her back.

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