Page 51 of Wild Pitch

THIRTY-FIVE

RIGGS

“Everything okay?”I ask as I bring my glass of water to my mouth. Monroe has been acting weird ever since I got home. She’s much quieter than usual, and all she’s done since we sat at the table is push her chicken around on her plate. I know something is up.

“Mhmm,” she replies quietly, keeping her eyes glued to her food. Her lip quivers and she quickly pulls it between her teeth to mask the movement, but it’s too late. I already saw it, and now I’m freaking out a little. She was fine when I left for the stadium. She told me she loved me when we said goodbye on the phone, so why can’t she even look me in the eye all of a sudden?

I set my fork down and push my chair back to stand. After rounding the table, I crouch down beside her and turn her chair toward me. Her head doesn’t move with her body, so I gently place my fingers under her chin, attempting to pull her gaze to mine. But she’s still avoiding eye contact, and her expression looks unsettled.

“What’s going on?” I try again. I’m doing my best notto lose my temper because something is obviously bothering her, but if I don’t find out what it is, I can’t fix it. And Ineed to fix it. I can’t stomach seeing her this way, or knowing that whatever it is, she doesn’t feel comfortable telling me.

She looks up, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt further away from her than I do right now. Her expression is nearly blank, her posture caved in as she holds her forearms tightly over her midsection. This is not the girl I left earlier today.

“I—I,” she stutters right before her eyes go wide. She throws an open hand over her mouth, stands abruptly, and knocks me on my ass as she takes off toward the stairs, hurrying up them and disappearing into the hallway. I stand and rush after her, making it through the door to the bathroom just as she heaves into the toilet. Kneeling behind her, I gather her hair into my hands and hold it while she vomits violently.

“Riggs, go,” she says weakly, batting a hand back in my direction to shoo me away. She’s fucking crazy if she thinks I’m leaving her here alone, but I don’t even get a chance to tell her that as she turns away again and continues throwing up.

“It’s okay, baby,” I say softly. “Get it out.” She finally gives up and drops her head forward, taking slow, steady breaths to quell the nausea. We sit there, her sniffling softly while I rub her back, until she finally stands. I follow, leaning against the wall while she brushes her teeth, hoping she’ll tell me what’s making her feeling unwell. She turns to face me, still completely avoiding eye contact.

“I’m going to sleep in my bed tonight. I don’t want to get you sick,” she whispers. “Goodnight.”

“Wait,” I rush out, grabbing her by the arm. “Let me take care of you.” I’m desperate to close the distance between us—both physically and emotionally—but I can tell she’s checked out. I just wish I knew why.

She shakes her head. “Riggs, you’re getting ready to pitch in a couple of days. Whatever this is,” she pauses, resting a hand over her stomach, “could take you out if it’s contagious. I shouldn’t be breathing on you all night. I’ll sleep in my bed, and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

I let her go because if she really is sick, she has a good point. But the way she’s acting still feels very alarming. I don’t like the thought of being apart tonight if something is on her mind.

“Okay,” I relent. “But at least let me tuck you in.” She nods weakly, turning down the hall and walking into her old room with me only a few steps behind. Instead of undressing and putting on one of my t-shirts like she usually does, she pulls back the covers and gets into bed, still wearing her cropped crewneck and leggings. All of this is so unlike her, but maybe she just doesn’t have the energy to change. I think better of offering to help her, instead opting to pull the covers up over her before pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead.

“I love you, sweet thing,” I say softly. “I’m just down the hall if you need anything.”

“Night,” she whispers, rolling away from me and pulling the blanket over her head. Reluctantly, I stand and slowly walk toward the door. Looking back one last time, I wonder what happened in the past six hours that has put so many milesbetween us.

I kick the blankets off my legs, tossing from one side to the other. I’ve barely gotten a wink of sleep all night. I don’t know if it’s because I’m thinking about my exchange with Monroe earlier, or simply the fact that she’s down the hall instead of in bed with me where she belongs. Either way, I’ve given up on getting any rest. Every possible scenario has played in my head, but I can’t figure out what she isn’t telling me. At first, I considered that she really does have a stomach bug, and she just wanted to keep me from getting sick. Then my mind went in another direction, wondering if she could possibly be pregnant and doesn’t want to say it out loud for fear of my reaction. I know she’s on birth control, but we haven’t used a single condom since we started having sex again, so it isn’t out of the realm of possibility. Whatever it is, I’m not going to leave this house until we talk about it.

Turning to my phone that’s propped up on the charging stand, I see that it’s four o’clock. I don’t have to be at the stadium until this afternoon since we have a home game later today, so I should be enjoying a very rare morning off. Maybe I just need to go check on her, and I’ll be able to salvage the last couple hours of darkness that I have left.

I stand and pad quietly out of the room and toward hers. I expect to be met with silence, but I’m caught off guard when I hear small sobs coming from the other side of her door. I immediately twist the knob and push my way in, panic taking over at the sight in front of me.

Monroe is on her knees in front of the dresser, frantically stuffing articles of clothing into her suitcase. Even though she’s been sleeping in my bed for weeks, all of her belongings stayed in here because it was easier. Now I’mregretting not moving her into my room fully. Another suitcase stands in front of the closet door, and two duffel bags are stacked next to it. This is pretty much everything she brought to Daytona.

“What the fuck is going on?” I ask, startling her. She turns abruptly, tears running from her red-rimmed eyes. She was so entranced in what she was doing, that she didn’t even hear me come into the room.

“Nothing,” she says, swiping at her cheeks as if she can erase the evidence. Like I wouldn’t question why in the fuckshe’s awake in the middle of the night, sobbing as she packs her luggage.

“No,” I say, moving toward her and kneeling on the floor. “You’re not fucking leaving me again, Monroe. Tell me what’s wrong. Whatever it is, we’ll get through it.”

Her eyes finally connect with mine, making my heart shatter in my chest. She looks utterly defeated. Her shoulders hunch forward, and she releases a long, slow sigh. “We can’t get through it, Riggs. Ihaveto go. Please trust me when I say I’m doing this for you.” Her chin quivers as her eyes fill with more tears. I reach for her, attempting to provide comfort—anything to ease her pain—but she pulls away, shaking her head as she puts out a cautious hand between us. “Don’t,” she says. “You’re making it harder.”

“Baby,” I plead, “please just tell me. There’s nothing more important to me than us. If you’re trying to save me from something and you think the only option is leaving, you’re wrong. If you’re—” I pause, unable to bear the thought of losing something so precious. “If you’re pregnant, I promise I’ll be the best dad ever to our baby. I can’t think of anything I’d want more than to have a family with you. Just don’t leave me.Please,” I choke out, letting myown tears of desperation fall. I drop my head forward, my shoulders shaking as I break down, hoping she understands that nothing in this world could ever mean more to me than she does.

I press my palms to my eyes, trying to breathe deeply before her warm arms wrap around me. She squeezes tightly, and we cry together for several minutes before she pulls away.

“I’m not pregnant,” she whispers, and I have to admit that the words aren’t a relief in any way. From the moment the thought popped into my head, a sense of calm washed over me, despite the lingering unease from not knowing what was going on with her. I’m completely positive that a future with Monroe and whatever kind of family we’re blessed with is exactly what I want out of life. I just have to make her stay.

“Then what’s wrong?” I ask. “Why are you trying to sneak out in the middle of the night?”

She loosens her hold on me, backing up slightly but staying angled toward my body. I miss the warmth of her touch immediately, so I reach out and rub my thumb along her thigh. I just need some type of connection right now, and I’m grateful she’s allowing it.

---