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forty-three

Knox

Well, I was right.

I fucking suck tonight.

I throw twenty-eight pitches in the first inning and give up two runs. The second inning isn’t faring much better since I’ve already thrown another twenty pitches. There are two outs right now, but there are runners on second and third.

Tonight might be better if I could see Harlow… but she’s not here. This is the first game of the entire season that she’s missed. Seeing me on the mound and not just in the dugout must’ve been too much for her right now.

God, I fucked up.

I rear up for another pitch, throwing a fastball to the Phoenix Sandstorms’ right fielder. To my dismay, he hits the ball just out of Josh’s reach, flying right over his glove and bouncing into the outfield. Ayala nabs it and tosses it to Pena on second, who is then able to tag him out. But the damage was already done since both of the baserunners ran home, meaning the score now sits at four to zero.

The atmosphere is bleak when we get back into the dugout. I take a spot on the bench in the back and pull my baseball cap over my face. We’re losing this game, and it’s all because I can’t get my head in it.

I feel someone take the spot next to me on the bench. “You look like shit tonight, Fort.”

“Surprised you’re even talking to me, Cole.”

He takes a deep breath. “Harlow specifically told me not to let what happened affect anything. Spent the past several days reminding myself not to hate you.”

“Not sure I deserve that.”

Cole sighs. “She’s okay, Knox. She’s resilient. Stop worrying so much.” He lowers his tone now. “It’s okay if you didn’t have the same ideas about what was happening between you two.”

I stay silent, unsure if I can get myself to tell Cole that I do actually have feelings for his sister. It doesn’t seem like I need to, though.

“Knox…” Cole starts. “You do feel something for her, don’t you?”

I let out a breath. “Yeah… It’s just… complicated.”

“Define complicated.”

“We’ll talk after the game. This isn’t the place for it.”

Cole nods understandingly before Skip shouts, “Pierce, you’re on deck!”

“Gotta run.” Cole stands before turning around with a serious look. “You’re going to be okay, too, you know.”

As soon as Cole leaves the dugout, Josh makes his way back in after striking out.

And just like Cole, he comes to sit directly beside me.

“Man, you’re not looking too hot tonight.”

“Does everyone need to point that out?” I sigh. “I get it; I’m pitching like shit today.”

“Not trying to rag on you, man,” Josh says. “Just making an observation. You okay?”

All my frustrations come rushing to the surface, boiling over until I’m ready to spill it all. Fuck keeping this from Josh any longer. Maybe he can give me some outside insight.

“I’m very much not okay.” I look down the dugout to make sure Josh and I are alone over here. I don’t need everyone’s prying ears listening in. “So, Harlow and I aren’t actually dating.”

“What?” he shouts before lowering his voice. “What do you mean you’re not dating? You two are on the front of every fucking tabloid. Ella and I have seen you two getting cozy with each other for months.”

“It’s fake,” I admit. “My agent, Simon, set it up. I’m up for a contract with Axis and need a better image. Dating Harlow has helped me with that.”

“Fuck, man.” Josh rubs a hand over his face. “I had no idea. You seemed to be head over heels for her.” He thinks for a moment. “That’s why you weren’t sleeping together.”

“Well…” I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck.

“Oh my God,” he says with a laugh. “You did end up sleeping with her, didn’t you?”

“Yeah… then things started feeling real, and I panicked.”

“Why would you panic over that?”

“Because I have a… history. I don’t want to get into the details, not here. But because of that, I pulled away, and now Harlow will barely speak to me.”

“She’s not faking it, is she?” Josh asks.

I sigh. “No, she told me she wasn’t anymore. Now, we’re back to putting on a fucking show, and I fucking hate it. I can’t sleep. I’m pitching like shit because I can’t get it together. I can’t get her out of my goddamn mind.”

“Oh man,” Josh says with a knowing chuckle. “You aren’t faking it either.”

“Not according to what I told her,” I say, my head falling back to hit the wall of the dugout.

“You’re an absolute dumbass,” he says, shaking his head. “No wonder she won’t talk to you.”

“Yeah, I fucked up. I know that.” I take a deep breath. “I’m in so fucking deep, too, because I… I miss her. I really just fucking miss her.”

“Shit, it’s not just not fake to you. You sound like you’re in love with her.”

“Love? No. I don’t know exactly what it is, but it isn’t love.”

“Of course, it isn’t,” Josh says with a smirk. “Get your ass up, though. Lane and Cole just struck out, so you’re back on the mound.”

“Fuck me,” I groan.

We all jog back onto the field, and I’m hoping I can pull myself together for the third inning.

My hopes are dashed when my first two pitches of the inning end with two runners on base.

I’m beyond pissed at myself for letting this affect me so much. My career rides on me taking charge on the mound. A poor outing like this happens to every pitcher at one point or another, but it always stings when you can’t help your team during a game.

But the game can’t get any worse from here, right?

So, for my next pitch, I give it my all. My knuckleballs are all over the place tonight, so I settle on another fastball. I get into position and bring my arm back to toss the pitch.

But my form must have been off.

I must have moved too suddenly.

As soon as that pitch is out of my hand, I feel a pop in my left thigh.

And I’m down.

The play continues since it’s still a live ball, but it ends soon when Phoenix’s catcher hits a three-run home run off the fastball that just took me to the ground. Cole and Martin are at my side as soon as the play ends.

“Knox, what happened?” Cole asks, bending down to reach me on the ground.

I groan in pain. “I felt a, uh… pop in my thigh. Hamstring, probably.”

“Fuck, that’s not good,” Martin says before signaling to Skip that we need help.

“Yeah,” I say through gritted teeth. “Hurts like a motherfucker right now. Fuck .”

“Knox, what’s going on?” I hear a female voice running toward me.

Lucia.

One of Harlow’s best friends.

Just perfect.

“Hamstring,” Cole tells her.

“Shit,” she mutters as Dr. Coltrain, our team physician, leans down beside her. I see Lane and Josh standing behind him, worried expressions on their faces.

“How is it feeling now, Knox?” Dr. Coltrain asks.

“Like… shit,” I manage.

“Okay,” he says. “Just nod or shake your head to answer my questions. Did you feel a popping or tearing sensation before you went down?”

I nod.

“Do you feel any swelling starting?”

I nod again.

“Are you able to fully extend your leg?”

I try to do so, fighting through the pain, but I can only extend it so far. So, I shake my head.

“It certainly sounds like a hamstring strain. The medics are coming over now with the cart. You need to get to the hospital.”

When the cart arrives, Lucia and Dr. Coltrain help the medic load me, and then I’m heading off the field. I do a slight wave to let the fans know I’m okay, but I don’t think they’ll really be missing me on the mound tonight. I’ve already given up seven runs.

Now I’m off to the hospital. Depending on the severity of the injury, there’s a potential need for surgery.

A surgery would take me out for the rest of the season.

I really fucking hope that doesn’t happen.

If I’m recovering from surgery, I won’t be making any media appearances or going out in public.

If I’m not going to be seen anywhere, there’s no reason for a fake relationship since I’ll be out of the public eye.

And if there’s no fake relationship, there’s no reason for Harlow to stick around.

And that might actually break me.