Page 31 of The Umpire Strikes Back

“I’m on my way,” Hattie says without hesitation, her voice steady. “Stay with Juniper. I’ll be there soon.”

The call ends, and I slump into a plastic chair in the waiting area. My gaze darts around: bright white walls, the faint smell of antiseptic, a child crying softly in a room nearby. Anxiety creeps up my spine.I can’t believe this happened on my watch.She was my responsibility, and I let her get hurt. The guilt piles on until it’s suffocating.

A nurse finally leads me to the exam room where Juniper is sitting on the bed, her arm in a temporary brace. She’s still teary, but she brightens a bit when she sees me. “Kali,” she says, voice trembling, “I’m really scared.”

I choke on a sob, rushing to her side. “I’m so sorry, sweet girl,” I whisper, stroking her hair. “I should’ve been paying closer attention. This is my fault.”

She tries to respond, but the door opens and Hattie steps in, breathless. Relief clashes with another wave of guilt in my chest. Hattie crosses to Juniper, eyes wide with worry. “Hey, Junebug. You okay?” Her voice is gentle, soothing, as she examines the brace.

I can barely stand there. My heart’s pounding, and the guilt is like a weight on my shoulders. I step back, letting Hattie take the lead. Something in me snaps—I can’t handle the sight of Juniper’s tear-streaked face, can’t shake the thought thatI failed.

Hattie glances at me, concern filling her gaze. “Kali, it’s okay. Accidents happen.”

I swallow a lump the size of a baseball. “I… I should’ve prevented it. I was supposed to keep her safe. How can I be anything like a stepmom if I—” My voice cracks, and I can’t finish.

“Stop,” Hattie murmurs, stepping toward me. “You didn’t do this. It’s an accident. Juniper doesn’t blame you.”

But I blame myself. My throat tightens, and I can’t bear the thought of standing there, feeling so helpless, worthless. I back up, practically stumbling for the door. “I’m sorry,” I choke out, tears spilling onto my cheeks. “I just… um, I can’t be here right now.”

“Kali, wait!” Hattie calls after me, voice tinged with sympathy.

I rush into the hallway, ignoring the stares of nurses and visitors. My mind races.I love her, and I love Ripley, but look at what I’ve done.I fumble through the exit, tears blurring my vision. The sharp smell of disinfectant follows me out into the parking lot. My lungs constrict as I slide into my car and slam the door, my hands trembling on the steering wheel.

How can I face Ripley after this? I can’t protect his daughter. I’m supposed to be stepping into some kind of motherly role, yet I let this happen. With a strangled sob, I turn the key in the ignition and speed away from the hospital, tears streaming down my face. Every mile to my apartment feels like failure amplified.

By the time I reach my building, my chest is heaving with suppressed sobs. I dash inside and collapse onto the couch, burying my face in my hands. Hot tears soak my palms, and I can’t stop the wave of self-loathing that floods me.I’m a horrible person.I don’t deserve this family, or the love they’ve given me.

I curl into myself, trembling from head to toe. The image of Juniper’s tearful face loops in my mind, and I break into another choked sob. There’s no escaping the guilt. I can only hope that somehow, Ripley and Juniper might forgive me for being so careless. Because right now, I’m not sure I can forgive myself.

19

Ripley

I’m coasting on the high of our victory, sweat still clinging to my forehead as I jog off the field. My heart’s thumping, but it’s not from the pitching, it’s from the anticipation of seeing Kali and Juniper in the stands. I half expect Juniper to come barreling down the steps, squealing about how cool that last inning was. But when I glance up at the bleachers, there’s no sign of her or Kali.

Frowning, I wave off a few teammates who want to celebrate. A prickle of unease slides through my chest. It’s not like Kali to just vanish, especially when she and Juniper planned to catch the game’s final innings. They would’ve been cheering.Something must’ve come up…

Pulling out my phone, I skim through notifications, feeling a rock settle in my gut when I see several missed calls from Hattie. There’s also a text, short and ominous:

Hattie:Emergency. Juniper’s at the hospital. Call me ASAP.

My stomach drops like a stone. I don’t even bother grabbing the rest of my gear. Within seconds, I’m sprinting through the corridors, phone to my ear, but Hattie’s not picking up.God, what happened?My mind reels with worst-case scenarios. I can’t even form a coherent plan; I just know I have to get to the ER.

I blow through the hospital’s automatic doors a half-hour later, breathing so hard it feels like I’ve run a marathon. My uniform is still damp from the game, and I’m sure I look half-crazed. The receptionist barely finishes a polite greeting before I blurt, “My daughter. Juniper Johnson. She… she’s here.”

It takes a moment for her to scan the system, then she points me down a hallway. I don’t wait for more directions I just hurry in the direction of her finger, adrenaline screaming through my veins.

Hattie’s standing by a vending machine near the waiting area. Relief washes over her face when she sees me. “Ripley, finally,” she breathes, and I note the tension in her posture, the dark smudges under her eyes. “I tried calling?—”

“What happened?” My voice comes out strangled as I fight a surge of panic. “Where’s Juniper? Is she—?” my words fall away.

“She’s okay,” Hattie says quickly, grabbing my arm. “She sprained her arm. She’s gonna be fine. They put a Velcro brace on her arm, and said she’ll need to keep it immobilized for a few weeks, but it shouldn’t cause permanent issues.”

The wave of relief hits me so hard my knees almost buckle. I have to brace a hand on the wall for support. “Oh, thank God.”She’s okay.My mind is still racing, but I can breathe now. “How did it happen?”

Hattie’s eyes flash with concern. “There was a coaching session, and apparently one of the kids accidentally hit her with a bat. Kali was running the clinic. She brought Juniper here immediately.”

“Kali…” My voice cracks. “Where is she?”

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