Page 45 of Off Pitch (New York Stars #1)

forty-four

Harlow

I try watching the game tonight.

I really do.

I can’t watch beyond two innings, though. Knox doesn’t have outings like this, giving up four runs on fifty-nine pitches. The only thing that changed recently for him to perform like this is what happened between us.

The change over the past few days has him so distracted he can’t focus on pitching.

I need space to think for myself, but doing that clearly has a negative impact on him.

So, can I make it through the season without pulling so far away? Can I do that without falling apart in the process?

I don’t know, but I think I’ve got to try for the sake of the team.

After I turn the game off, I put in my earbuds to drown out my thoughts to some upbeat pop music.

It’s not working.

It’s almost nine, and I’m still stuck on how poorly Knox performed tonight. No matter what’s happening between us, I don’t want it to distract him from his own game. He’s built a career on performing well under pressure and stress, and tonight’s performance is so out of character for him.

And almost no one really knows why it’s happening.

But I do.

I know.

It’s because of me .

The song I’m listening to is cut off by an incoming call.

Lucia’s calling.

Why is Lucia calling? She’s at the game, and she’s technically working.

I answer the call, and Lucia’s voice now rings through my earbuds.

“Harlow! Were you not watching the game?” she shouts from the other end. I don’t know where she is right now, but it sure as hell doesn’t sound like the baseball field.

“I turned it off after the second inning,” I admit. “Knox looked like shit, and it was hard to watch because I know that’s my fault.”

“Well, that tells me why you weren’t blowing up my phone a little while ago.”

“What do you mean, Luc? What happened?”

“Knox went down on one of his pitches in the third. I’m at the hospital with him right now so I could fill his providers in on what happened.”

“What?!” I yell. “Knox was injured tonight?”

“Yeah. It was a non-contact injury, though. He thinks it’s his hamstring, so he’s getting imaging done to determine the severity. Then they’ll figure out if he needs surgery. Dr. Coltrain said he will be out for a bit regardless, though.”

“Fuck,” I say, standing up from my tiny couch. Fatigue is a perfect way to end up with a hamstring strain as a pitcher. And the way Knox has looked like shit the past few days, I’ve no doubt he hasn’t been sleeping. “What hospital?”

“Bellevue,” Lucia says.

“You’re in Kips Bay,” I say back as I slip on my shoes. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

The emergency room is overrun with fans trying to garner any information they can about Knox Spencer’s injury. He’s been here about an hour, and everyone already figured out where he was, completely flooding the waiting room.

I’ll never understand those fans. The ones who show up after an injury or medical emergency, trying to get a glimpse of their favorite athlete in one of their worst moments. Compassion should be shown, and privacy should be given. Unfortunately, that’s not what happens when you’re in the public eye.

Because of that, there’s security posted at the doors leading into the hospital from the waiting room.

“Hi,” I say, somewhat intimidated by the large man in front of me with a stoic expression on his face. “I’m here for Knox Spencer.”

The security guard scoffs. “You and everyone else. You have no reason to be here. Unless you’re staff or have a medical emergency, you’re not getting through.”

“Excuse me,” I say, slightly offended. “I’m not just a random fan. I’m Harlow Pierce.”

“And?” he says, giving me a dismissive look.

“And I’m-” I start before the doors behind the security guard open, and Lucia walks through.

“There you are, Harlow! Come with me—I’ll take you back.” Lucia grabs my hand to lead me through before the security guard stops her.

“You can’t just take her back there,” he says. “Fans aren’t allowed back.”

“She’s not just a fan,” Lucia says, clearly annoyed. “This is Harlow Pierce, Knox Spencer’s girlfriend.”

“I was trying to tell you that,” I add softly.

“I need to verify that first,” he says gruffly.

“Fine,” Lucia replies as she takes out her phone. “Watch me as I Google ‘Knox Spencer and girlfriend’ so you can see all the articles about them.”

Lucia hits search, and article after article about us appears on her screen, showing my face on every one of them. The security guard finally relents. “Alright, go on then.”

“Thank you,” I say quickly as Lucia leads me through the doors.

Lucia walks me through the halls of the emergency room until we stop right outside room eighteen. There’s another security guard posted by the doors.

“Hi,” Lucia says to the man. “This is Harlow, Knox’s girlfriend. Your colleague has already verified that.”

“Very well,” he says, stepping aside to let us through.

We walk into the room, and I see him lying on the bed in a hospital gown. “Hey, Knox,” I say weakly, but it’s enough to grab his attention. “How’s your leg doing?”

“Freckles!” he says loudly with a bright smile. “I was hoping you’d come!”

“Um, yeah… here I am,” I say warily before turning to Lucia. “Is he okay?”

She laughs. “He’s hopped up on Morphine. He’s a bit loopy right now.”

“Morphine?” I say questioningly. “Morphine is a banned substance.”

“Babe, he’s not playing for at least a few weeks. Based on the on-field evaluation, he’s got either a grade two or grade four strain. He’s going to need time to recover. They’re already talking about moving him to the 15-day IL. That Morphine won’t even be in his system by the time he’s back.”

“Oh.”

Shit. He’s actually going to miss time from this. An injury he sustained likely because his focus wasn’t on the game but on me .

“Lo,” Lucia says, putting an arm around my shoulder and leaning closer. “Don’t blame yourself for this. I know you, and I know how you’re going to internalize this. Sure, this could have happened because he was distracted, but that’s on him, not you. He’s a professional; he needs to be able to separate his personal life from his professional one.”

I take a deep breath. I know she’s right. It’ll be easier said than done, but I can at least help him in the meantime.

I walk over and sit on the edge of Knox’s bed, and he smiles at me softly. “How are you feeling, Slick?”

“I don’t feel much right now,” he says. “They gave me some of the good medicine.” That pulls a laugh from me, and he smiles brighter now. “Hey, I got you to laugh again.”

I smile softly. “Yeah, I guess you did.”

“Maybe I didn’t fuck everything up completely.” He reaches his hand down and places it on top of mine. “I’ve missed you, Harlow. The past few days have been awful.”

“So awful you forgot how to throw a good pitch?”

He smiles and laughs. “You giving me shit must be a good sign.”

“Yeah,” I admit. As painful as it is to be near him right now, it hurts worse to be away. “I’ve missed you, too.”

His smile is soft and sweet, tender and caring. A smile so captivating that I forget we have an audience until Lucia clears her throat behind me.

“Well,” I say, quickly shooting up from where I’m sitting. “I’m glad you’re doing okay. Seems like it could have been worse.”

“We don’t know the severity yet, though,” Lucia says. “We’re still waiting on the imaging results.”

“Right,” I reply. “I guess we don’t actually know how he’s doing yet.”

“You’re here,” Knox chimes. “I’m already doing better.” A blush creeps across my cheeks as Lucia covers her mouth to hide her smile.

The door opens behind us, and one of the ER physicians walks in. “Hi, I’m Dr. Agarwal.” He walks over beside Knox. “I have your imaging results, but I’d like to talk to you alone first.”

“We’ll be in the hall,” Lucia says.

We walk into the hall and close the door behind us as Dr. Agarwal pulls the curtain shut. I lean back against the glass as Lucia stands in front of me with a smile on her face.

“What’s with the smile, Luc?” I ask.

“Lo, that man can say whatever he wants, but he’s down so fucking bad for you.”

“No, he isn’t,” I say quietly, barely above a whisper. “Knox all but told me he isn’t.”

Lucia’s look is more reassuring now. “I know what he said. But a man that doesn’t actually feel anything won’t sit there and tell you he misses you, even if he is hopped up on Morphine.”

“He said he missed me before, though. That didn’t seem to matter.”

“When was that?” she asks.

“When he was away for the All-Star Game. He told me on the phone Monday night, and I also kinda just let everyone believe I didn’t see him until Wednesday morning. That’s not completely true.” Lucia raises her eyebrow in curiosity. “It’s technically true but a bit misleading. Knox actually came directly to my apartment when he got off the plane. It was three A.M., and he was pounding on my door. He told me he couldn’t wait any longer to see me.”

“Interesting,” Lucia replies with a smirk. “Those aren’t the actions of a man who says everything is fake, Lo.”

“Please don’t, Luc,” I plead. “Please don’t give me hope where there isn’t any.”

“I won’t keep going on about it,” she says. “But I think there’s more to the situation than what Knox has led everyone to believe. Like maybe something happened, and it’s making him freak out about everything.”

And it clicks.

Emily .

It’s Emily.

He and I have talked about her at length over the past few months, and I know he hasn’t gotten close to any woman since her. He hasn’t let anyone in.

Until me.

He let me in. I’m the first person he’s let in since he went through everything with Emily, almost ending his career before it even began.

I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.

Of course, he’s panicking.

I’ll still be cautious, and I won’t hold out too much hope, but there may be a chance for something.

A chance for us .

The door to Knox’s room opens again, and Dr. Agarwal walks out. “Mr. Spencer says you’re both welcome to return now.”

We follow Dr. Agarwal into the room, and Lucia and I take the seats to the side of his bed. He looks stressed now, so I’m guessing the imaging wasn’t great.

“So,” Dr. Agarwal says, grabbing our attention. “Just like everyone suspected, it’s indeed a hamstring injury—a grade two hamstring strain, more specifically. Because the hamstring didn’t tear completely, surgery won’t be necessary. It did tear significantly, though—more than half of it has torn. Because of that, he needs to take it easy for a while. I want him on crutches for at least a few days, and then he’ll start physical therapy.”

Dr. Agarwal takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “Even with all of that treatment, he will need to stay off of his leg as much as possible. The RICE method is the recommended treatment—rest, ice, compression, and elevation.” He turns his attention to Knox now. “Now, Mr. Spencer, do you live alone?”

“I do,” Knox replies, voice strained.

“Then I recommend having somebody stay with you for the next few weeks. You’re going to need help if you’re to stay off your leg so you can recover.”

“I doubt anyone will want to stay and care for me, Doc.”

“I will,” I say softly before I can think better of it. “I mean, I am your girlfriend, after all. I’m happy to help you out.”

Knox gives me a sweet smile as Lucia eyes me curiously. Dr. Agarwal says, “Well, there you go. It seems like you already have that worked out. We’ll set you up with a pair of crutches and a referral for physical therapy. In the meantime, I’ll get your discharge paperwork started. We’ll send you home with instructions that your girlfriend can help you go over in the morning once the Morphine wears off.”

Dr. Agarwal wishes Knox well and leaves the room. And the weight of what I just did falls on my shoulders.

I just agreed to stay with Knox to help him recover.

I’m going to be living with him for at least the next couple of weeks.

Living with the man who sent my heart into a freefall.

What could possibly go wrong?