Page 22 of Knox (Comeback Duet #2)

Knox

I stepped back into the batter’s box, my heart pounding louder than the crowd had been all night. My eyes were locked on the pitcher, but my brain was stuck on the image of Crew at first base with Parker and Reynolds surrounding him.

Every part of me had wanted to follow him off the field, but I knew how that would look.

While we’d received a lot of support for our relationship, that didn’t mean I hadn’t heard the rumblings of those who had a problem with us.

Some sports shows had even aired segments wondering if teammates dating would be a distraction.

If I bailed on the game, I’d be giving them even more to talk about.

The first pitch was a fastball right down the middle, and I didn’t swing.

I couldn’t. My grip felt wrong, like my bat was too heavy in my hands.

The opposing team likely knew my head wasn’t where it should be, but I refused to let them take advantage of the situation, so I tightened my grip and exhaled slowly.

The next pitch was a slider that broke late, and I managed to foul it off. My timing was still off, but at least I’d caught a piece of the ball.

Get it together.

I stepped out of the box again, adjusted my gloves, and glanced toward the seats where Grady, Mallory, and Archer usually sat. They weren’t there, and I wondered if they’d left the stadium or just gone somewhere to keep Grady distracted.

I got into position again and swung at the next pitch. I drove it hard but right at the second baseman for an easy out.

We were still down by only one going into the ninth, but with Crew gone, it seemed as though the whole team was struggling.

Our bullpen gave up a leadoff double, and then a single brought in the run. We managed to get out of the top of the inning without the other team scoring any more runs, but everything just felt off.

We were down two, and we’d overcome a deficit like that before, but luck wasn’t on our side. All three batters struck out, and no one spoke as we headed back to the locker room.

I didn’t bother changing or showering; instead, I went straight to the trainer’s room.

The door was cracked a few inches, and I nudged it open the rest of the way. Crew sat on the padded table, cradling his injured hand close to his body. I hovered near the doorway until he looked up.

“It’s not broken,” he said before I could ask him anything. “At least the X-ray didn’t show anything.”

“Then what are we thinking?” I stepped farther into the room.

“He needs an MRI,” Reynolds explained. “But we need to wait for the swelling to go down a bit.”

“Could be ligament or tendon damage or just a bad sprain, but we need to get a better look before I’m cleared,” Crew added.

I rested my hand on his knee. “So what now?”

“We’re scheduling him for an MRI tomorrow afternoon,” Reynolds replied. “Until then, ice, ibuprofen, and rest. Not much else to do.”

I nodded. “Okay. I’m going to go change, and then we can head home.”

By the time I’d showered and changed, most of the guys had already left. The few teammates who were still around asked about Crew’s status, but I didn’t have any answers beyond the vague update the team would likely send out in a press release in the morning.

I grabbed Crew’s stuff along with mine, and we left out the side door from the trainer’s room. I dug the keys out of his bag and climbed into the driver’s side of his truck while he slid into the passenger seat.

I kept glancing over as we drove through the city, but didn’t say much because everything that came to mind sounded meaningless.

Once we got inside, he went straight for the freezer and grabbed an ice pack, holding it to his hand as he sank into the couch. I dropped our bags, kicked off my shoes, and joined him.

“I hate this,” he finally muttered, his eyes glued to the ceiling. “It’s not even like it was an amazing play that I got hurt on. Just a routine dive back to the bag. Something I do almost every game.”

“That throw came in hot. You just landed wrong.”

He huffed. “No kidding. My fingers feel like they’re going to explode. They’re throbbing like hell.”

“Want me to get you some Advil?” I started to stand, but he stopped me with his good hand.

“No. I took some right before we left the stadium.” His voice softened. “Just sit with me.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes before he finally said, “I should probably text Mallory with an update. I checked my phone while waiting for the X-ray results and saw she’d texted me after I left the field.”

“Was Grady worried?”

He shook his head. “She said they told him everything was okay, and he bought it. The ice cream they got him before taking him home probably helped too.”

I smiled. “Too bad ice cream doesn’t work for adults like it does for kids.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I’d love a scoop of chocolate fudge to distract me from everything right now.”

“Well, we don’t have any ice cream.” I turned slightly, curling one leg underneath me. “But what do you say to a different kind of distraction?”

His eyes met mine. “What kind are we talking about?”

I reached over and cupped the back of his neck. “The kind where you don’t have to think for a while. Just enjoy.”

“My hand’s fucked.”

“I wasn’t planning on using your hand.” I trailed kisses down his throat.

His lips parted slightly. “Knox?—”

“Shhh. You don’t have to do anything. Just sit back and enjoy it.”

He blew out a breath. “You drive me crazy.”

“I know.” I slid off the couch to kneel in front of him. “That’s why you love me.”

“Fuck yeah, I do.”

He lifted a little so I could remove his pants and boxers, then I nudged his legs apart to make room for me between them.

“Have I told you how much I love your cock?” I asked as I wrapped my fingers around his thick shaft and stroked him.

“A few times,” he breathed. “But feel free to say it again.”

I chuckled lightly. “You like hearing compliments about your dick, don’t you?”

Crew peered down at me. “Only when they come from that mouth of yours before you suck it.”

“Good thing I never run out of nice things to say.”

“True, but maybe you can put that mouth to better use,” he teased.

“Someone’s impatient tonight.” I leaned in and licked him from base to tip.

His head dropped back against the couch. “You act like you wouldn’t be the same way if our roles were reversed.”

I grinned and slowly engulfed him inch by inch.

He gripped my hair with his non-injured hand and held on as I began bobbing up and down his shaft.

My spit dripped down his length and I used it to help jerk him faster while I alternated between sucking the tip and flicking my tongue over the sensitive spot just under his crown.

“Fuck,” he moaned.

I took him in again until the head of his cock bumped the back of my throat, causing my eyes to water.

“That’s it. Take me as far as you can. I love watching you gag on my dick.”

Never one to back down from a challenge, I hollowed my cheeks and took him deeper, swallowing around him.

“You’re going to make me come if you do that again.”

I pulled back just enough to catch a breath. “Yeah, that’s what I’m going for.”

He grinned. “Such a smartass.”

I got back to work, wrapping my lips around him and sucking harder until his legs began to shake.

“You ready to swallow my cum?”

I moaned around him and tried to nod.

His hold on my hair tightened as the first burst of his salty release hit my tongue. I drank him down like he was everything I’d been craving, and I didn’t stop until I felt him stop twitching against my tongue.

He exhaled loudly. “I think I might have blacked out there for a second.”

I wiped my lips with the back of my hand. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” he said, looking completely wrung out. “You made me forget about my hand for a bit.”

I got up from the floor and kissed him. “Then mission accomplished.”

The swelling in Crew’s hand had gone down a little by the next morning, but the smallest movements made him wince. He barely touched his coffee, and when he only ate a few bites of the eggs and bacon I made for him, I knew his worry about how this would affect his game was weighing on him.

We hung out at the condo watching TV until it was time for us to leave for his MRI.

“You sure you’re okay with ordering a rideshare back to the stadium?” I asked as he climbed out of the truck in front of the doctor’s office.

He nodded. “Yeah. Not really feeling up to driving right now.”

“Okay, but call me if you need anything. I’m just going to hit up the batting cages since we aren’t doing BP today.”

“Don’t worry. I’m a big boy and capable of taking care of myself.”

I grinned. “Oh, I know how big you are. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to help you.”

He groaned. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

I laughed. “Nope.”

With a roll of his eyes, he said, “I’ll see you at the field.”

“Later,” I replied.

I waited until he was inside before pulling away from the curb. I wanted to be there, but I knew hovering would only make him feel worse.

When I turned into the staff parking lot, I recognized a few of the cars there already. Those teammates were likely in the weight room, but I wasn’t planning on doing a full workout. I just wanted to take a moment to get my focus back on the game where it needed to be.

I dropped my bag off in my cubby and changed into my practice jersey.

As I headed toward the cages, I heard someone call my name.

Turning, I did a double-take. With everything going on with Crew, I’d almost forgotten that Beck Pearson, my former roommate from my minor league days in Albuquerque, had been traded to the Seawolves’ Triple-A team during spring training.

“Pearson?” He looked exactly like he had two years ago. Same cocky grin, same swagger, and the same backwards hat he wore whenever we weren’t on the field.

He spread his arms wide. “Surprise, bitch.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Glad to see you’re still an asshole.”

“Yeah, but now I’m an asshole with a locker in a big-league clubhouse.” He smirked. “Only took Stratton jacking up his fingers for me to get a big break.”

I shot him a look, and he held up both hands in surrender. “Kidding. Mostly. It definitely sucks, and I don’t like to see things like that happen, especially to a player as important as he is to this team.”

“Appreciate that. He’s getting an MRI today, so we’ll know more soon.”

“Hope it’s just a sprain,” Pearson mused. “Seriously, I’m not trying to step on any toes or anything. Just here to do my job and try not to fuck it up.”

“Relax,” I said. “It’s not like it’s your fault he got hurt.”

Pearson followed me down the hall, casually tossing a ball in the air and catching it.

I tore open a protein bar and choked it down as we entered the batting cages.

“You still like those nasty ass things?”

I glared at him. “You’re one to talk. You used to microwave tuna.”

“That was one time, and I was desperate for a hot meal.”

“It was disgusting, and we had to evacuate the apartment,” I reminded him.

“It was still a decent tuna melt.”

I got the pitching machine set up and stepped into the batter’s box, taking a few practice swings before the machine spat out the first ball.

I hit a few balls before stepping back to reset. “So, how’s life been treating you?” I asked.

“It’s been good. Bouncing around the minors more than I’d like, though.”

“I hear that.” Even after I got my shot with the Rockies, I got sent down a couple of times. It sucked, but it was part of the game.

“I’d love to say I hope you stick around, but … you know.”

He nodded. “I’m just here to keep his seat warm and maybe hit a few bombs in the meantime.”

After Pearson and I switched places, I grabbed my phone and checked my messages. There was nothing. I knew Crew would reach out once he had information to share, but that didn’t stop me from worrying.

If he went on the IL, I’d have to go on our next road trip without him. We’d spent so long finding our way back to each other, I didn’t want baseball to be the thing that pulled us apart again.