Leave Me Breathless: The Ivy Collection

by KL Donn

  I set my prenatal vitamins on the kitchen counter and grab a glass of water. I open the bottle and gasp. “What the fuck,” I whisper to no one. “Why’s it so big?” The pill is freaking huge. How am I supposed to swallow it?

  Popping it into my mouth, I take a big drink of water, swallowing the pill down. My stomach rolls slightly, but I’m able to stave off the nausea. I’m seven weeks pregnant and everything looked good, according to my doctor.

  I was very lucky and when I told my mom about the pregnancy last night, she demanded that she come with me to my appointment this morning. She didn’t judge me, she didn’t ask questions. Mom just wrapped her arms around me and told me she loved me.

  When she dropped me off, she said that we’d talk sometime this week. I’ll tell her about Sawyer then. I look down at my phone and see I need to start getting ready for work. I work at a Starbucks near campus.

  Once I change into my uniform, I send a quick text to my sister.

  MeMe: Hey, appointment went great. I’m due November seventh. Will you be there when I call him?

  I don’t know where Elsa is, but she responds almost immediately.

  Elsa: That’s great and you’ll be done with school by then. You know I’ll be there, holding your hand if you need it.

  MeMe: I love you biggo, biggo.

  Once I get to the coffee shop, I head inside and am ready to get this shift over with so I can call him.

  The night flies by, thankfully because we’re busy. It made it easy for me not to think about the conversation I would be having later. Once I take the trash out, we lock up and then we head out.

  I bite off two nails by the time I pull up in front of the duplex. Before I climb out, I take a deep breath and then grab my purse. My stomach does flip flops as I let myself inside. I find Carrie sitting at the breakfast bar.

  I kiss her cheek as I walk by and grab a glass of apple juice.

  “How was work?” she asks.

  I lean against the counter. “It was busy, which was good because I didn’t have time to think about calling Sawyer. Where’s Elsa?”

  “She has to work late. I know she promised to be here when you call, but if you don’t want to wait, I’ll hold your hand.”

  I smile. “That’d be great.” I take the seat next to her and pull my phone out of my purse, setting it on the counter in front of me. “Shit, I’m nervous.”

  Carrie grabs my hand in hers. “Don’t be. Just be realistic; he might freak out or even lash out at first, but he loves you.”

  I pick up my phone and pull up his contact information. My thumb hovers over the green call button. I take a deep breath, push it, and then put the phone on speakerphone, setting it on the counter.

  My knee bounces up and down while it rings. Just when I think the voicemail is going to pick up, someone answers, but not the someone I expected.

  “Hello?” It’s a woman, but it’s hard to tell over the loud music. “Hello?” There’s a giggle. “Sawyer baby, come here and fuck me again,” she says, giggling before the line goes dead. I hop up and proceed to puke in the kitchen sink. I feel Carrie rub my back.

  “Honey, I don’t know what to say. Shit, that wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  I rinse my mouth, spit, and then shake my head. “What did I expect? I slept with him and then ignored him until he went away.” I head up to my room, climb into bed, and mentally kick myself for everything.

  I’m not sure what time it is when I feel my sister crawl into bed with me. “Carrie told you?”

  “Yeah, she was worried about you but wanted to give you your space. I’m so sorry, honey. What are you going to do now?”

  I roll over until I’m facing her. “I s-still need to tell him. Maybe I’ll go to one of his home games and find him afterward.”

  She wraps her arms around me and hugs me tight. “Whatever you do, I support you a hundred percent.” Elsa stays with me until I feel myself start to drift back to sleep.

  The quiet of the library is comforting as I step inside. I take a big whiff and sigh—I love that smell so much. My major is English with an emphasis on modern literature. I’ll be using my degree to be a full-time freelance editor, hopefully. I’ve met a couple of authors who have let me edit their work just for me to get experience and then hopefully get word of mouth referrals.

  My uncle Pat, my dad’s baby brother, works for an advertising firm and said they’re always looking for good copy editors, so once I graduate, I’ll interview with them just to see, but wait—would they hire me after they found out I was pregnant?

  I’ll be showing by the time graduation hits, or at least I will be a little. I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. I find a spot in the corner, setting my backpack on the table. I pull my laptop and notebook out and set them down.

  Once I’m all settled, I begin working on my final paper. It’s about the positive impact romance novels have on women. Gathering the data has been so much fun. All I’ve had to do is ask other women who read what their favorite book is and why. Most will go on and on in great detail about their love for characters, storylines, and happily ever afters. The passion alone has fueled a great deal of my paper.

  I get lost in my work and next thing I know, three hours have gone by. My stomach growls loudly, so I pack up my stuff and head toward the cafeteria. Once inside, I slip my coat off and set it and my bag down at an empty table.

  This time of day, it’s sandwiches, chips, and other snacky stuff. I grab my ID, go through the line and pick up a turkey on wheat, a bowl of fruit, and a bottle of water. I slide my card through the little reader and then take it over to my table.

  There are maybe a handful of students here, but they’re all spread out. I glance up at the TV on the far wall and see it’s the Hawks playing. Like a magnet is pulling me, I make my way toward it and that’s when I see him. Sawyer Bennett #32 runs out onto the field. His smiling face appears on the TV screen along with his stats.

  “He’s so fucking hot.” I turn toward the voice and find two blondes who look like they could be Victoria Secret models looking up at the TV. “We had sex once last year and once before he left for spring training. I have half a mind to go to one of his games and see if we can hook up after,” one says to the other.

  My stomach rolls—I turn away from the TV and the girls, hustling back to my table. I choke my food down only because of the baby—Sawyer’s and my baby. He has always preferred girls that look like them.

  No, I can’t think about that. I watch those girls giggle to each other while they walk out of the cafeteria with bottles of water. I stare at the TV from my seat, watching the Hawks score run after run.

  When Sawyer is up to bat, I watch him get into his stance as the pitcher lets a curveball fly. He doesn’t swing and they call ball. The pitcher lets it fly again and Sawyer swings. If the volume was up, I bet I could hear the crack of the bat as it connects with the ball.

  I hold my breath as I watch it drop nicely in between two outfielders. He is so fast and rounds first base and sliding to second. The camera zooms in on his face and I can tell he’s in the zone. I hope this baby is a boy and has a passion for baseball like his dad.

  I can’t watch him anymore, so I throw my trash away and head home to change and then go to work. If only I could take a nap because this sudden exhaustion is no joke.

  5

  Sawyer

  I carry my garment and duffle bags into my room, dumping them on the floor in front of my closet. I’ll wait until morning to deal with it. This is the first night in my own bed in two weeks. I’m fucking exhausted, but living the fucking dream.

  We are 4-0 right now, we’re on fire. Luckily it didn’t take long before I earned my spot with the team. I proved that it was the right choice for me to go right into the majors. I still can’t believe it.

  I collapse on my bed and stare up at the ceiling. I’ve been missing MeMe like crazy and the guys have all been giving me shit even though I told them that she and I were
just friends. Tito says I should be getting my dick wet by all the cleat chasers and trust me, I’ve sampled several so far, but fuck, none of them have held a candle to MeMe.

  Nope, not thinking about her—I’ll never admit it to anyone that her rejection hurt me more than I care to admit. I’ve always loved her as a friend, but after that night, something shifted inside me. I know that sounds weird, but it did.

  I’ve talked to my mom and even she hasn’t heard from MeMe. She doesn’t know that we slept together, but she does know that something happened. Mom’s always swore that MeMe was in love with me, but I don’t think that’s it because if she did, she was really good at hiding it.

  If she was in love with me, then why wouldn’t she tell me? Oh, I know because I’ve never hidden my active sex life from her.

  “I can hear you thinking in there?” Tito hollers through my door. “What’s the best way to get over a woman is to get on another.”

  “Fuck off, dick,” I holler and I hear him laugh. Long bus rides and plane rides leave a lot of time to talk and I may have mentioned her a time or two to the guys. Tito’s right, though, I need to just keep fucking her out of my system. Yeah, that’s what I need to do.

  It’s been three months since the start of the season and I’m still living the fucking dream. The team has been unstoppable and I’m playing like I never have before. Tito was also right about the cleat chasers, they’re ripe for the picking and I’ve never had a problem finding one to warm my bed or to warm theirs, and after we both come, I leave or they leave—complication-free, just the way I like it.

  We have the next four days off and we’re all taking advantage of it. Tonight a bunch of us are going to celebrate today’s win and I plan to drink and fuck. I toss my wet towel on my bed and slip on my boxer briefs.

  After putting on deodorant and a little cologne, I go to my closet and pull out my favorite pair of jeans. I grab a white short-sleeve button-up shirt that molds to my lean muscular frame. I slip on my favorite green Converse.

  I run my fingers through my dark blond hair, leaving it messy looking, which the ladies all seem to love. I grab a couple of condoms and stick them in my wallet before shoving it into my back pocket.

  I grab my Apple watch and slip it on. Out in the living room, I find Tito, Kane, and Wally waiting for me. They’re all dressed in similar fashion as me. I take the beer Kane holds out to me, twist the cap off, and take a long pull from it. The crisp brew slides down my throat and makes me sigh.

  After our beers, we head downstairs and climb into the car that we rented for the night so no one would have to worry about how they were going to get home. We head downtown to our usual spot, Ignite. They always section off an area for us, with our own bartender, and security just in case.

  I won’t lie, when we step inside, we get lots of attention. It’s like a natural high that I’ve come to love. As soon as we get settled on the small half sofas, the girls descend. Most are still in their jersey’s tied up under their big, fake breasts, or in little dresses that barely cover anything.

  As the drinks start to flow, things get a little wild. Some of the guys are out dancing—okay, I wouldn’t call it dancing, more like dry humping with some of the ladies. A gorgeous curvy blonde named Simone has been keeping me company, throwing out signals that she is down to fuck.

  She’s practically giving me a hand job while she kisses my neck. I have to close my eyes and imagine someone who I can’t have to even get my dick to react at all. Simone suddenly straddles my lap, thrusting her tits in my face.

  I’m not fucking her here, I’m not drunk enough for that and someone could film it and then I’d be in a shitload of trouble. “Sorry, babe, that’s not gonna happen here.” She pouts as she climbs off me. “I’ll be back.”

  I stand up and adjust my dick and head to the bathroom. After I take a piss, I wash my hands and then head back out to Simone, but find Kane walking toward me. “What’s up?” I greet him as he gets close.

  “Did she find you?” he asks.

  I don’t know what he’s talking about. “Who? Simone?”

  “No, she came in looking for you. I didn’t catch her name, but she was fucking hot and was kind of exotic looking.”

  Oh my god, could it be MeMe? “Where did she go?”

  “I don’t know, man, I sent her over to where you were getting it on with the blonde…”

  I don’t let him finish because I take off running toward the front. It’s stupid, but I call out MeMe’s name, looking in every direction. I run around the bar, looking like an idiot. When it’s clear if she was here she isn’t anymore, I go back to the VIP area and drown my sorrows in vodka.

  MeMe

  I walk quickly back to my car and climb in. When I’m on the road heading back to the hotel, I place my hand on my small baby bump and try to keep it together. I don’t want to lose it while I’m driving.

  When I reach the hotel, I climb out and hand my keys to the valet. I walk inside and all I feel is mind-numbing pain. That blonde woman was all over Sawyer, and he didn’t seem to mind.

  I step on the elevator and place my hand on my belly. “I think it’s going to be you and me against the world, baby boy.” The fluttery feeling happens and I know that’s my son telling me in his secret baby way that we’ll be okay.

  I’m five months along now, and when the ultrasound tech told me it was a boy, I knew I had to tell Sawyer. I had to tell him that we made a little boy who was going to hopefully play baseball like his dad.

  I realize I should’ve come sooner, but they’ve played a lot of away games and this wasn’t a conversation I was going to have over the phone. If I’m being honest, I was and am scared to tell him. What if he says I did it on purpose?

  I get off on my floor and make my way down the hall to my room. I use the keycard to let me in and I left the light on earlier, so I step right in and shut the door behind me, flipping both locks.

  Elsa offered to come with me, but I needed to do this alone. I shouldn’t have come—that’s all there is to it. I screwed it all up by first falling in love with him and then second by having sex with him. Sawyer’s never been into commitment of any kind—always sleeping with girls and that’s it, no dates, no nothing.

  I let myself become the girl he did all of the pseudo dates with while the other girls got the physical part. He had the perfect set up because I am a doormat when it comes to him, granted he didn’t know about my feelings for him, but still—fuck, I can’t think about this right now.

  I strip out of my pants, take off my bra, and then do my bathroom routine. Back in the room, I leave the TV on so it casts a soft glow in the darkened room. It thankfully doesn’t take long before I feel sleep pull me under.

  6

  Sawyer

  Almost Two Years Later

  Tito helps me with the straps of my shoulder wrap. “How’s the pain?”

  “Only achy right after therapy and when I get up in the morning. I’ll be happy when I’m done with this stupid wrap. Do you know how hard it is to piss one-handed?” I shake my head. “Tomorrow’s my last physical therapy session and then I should be able to start working out again.”

  Our last game, I dove for a line drive, caught it, but when I went down, I separated my shoulder. It hurt so fucking bad when it happened I almost blacked out. I laid there until I was able to stand and walk off the field because I wasn’t going to look like a pussy.

  On a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst, my separated shoulder is about a three now… thankfully, when before it was about a twelve. That game knocked us out of the playoffs, but we put up a fight against Boston.

  I have a pretty high pain tolerance and not wanting to get hooked on opioids, I only used the pain pills before therapy and at first, at night. In between, it’s been ibuprofen, ice, and rest.

  We head out to meet some of the guys for dinner at this little steakhouse downtown. Kane reserved the back room for us so we could eat in peace. I know tonight the guys are
going to go out after dinner, but while I’m healing, I’ve abstained from alcohol and women. I plan to keep it that way until I’m back to a hundred percent.

  Tito and I head downstairs and wait for our Lyft to come. When it pulls up, we climb in and we make our way toward Fyre Grill. Traffic is bumper to bumper, and it takes us almost forty minutes to get there, which is double what it usually takes.

  The car finally pulls up and we climb out, heading inside. The hostess turns on a megawatt smile when she sees us. “Hello, gentlemen. We have your room all set up for you. If you’ll just follow me.”

  She leads us through the restaurant, putting an exaggerated sway in her hips. A couple of people stop us and congratulate us on a good season. We take a couple of pictures and then excuse ourselves, heading into our private dining area.

  Kane, Brett, Max, Wally, and Kyle are all seated around the table already. We shake hands or exchange back-slapping hugs.

  “Are you still being a good boy?” Brett asks me. He’s one of our pitchers and a cool guy.

  I flip him the bird and take a seat across from him. They send back the hottest fucking waitresses and they get our drink orders and we order some appetizers. I shake my head as I watch Kane slip the red-headed waitress a piece of paper.

  The guy is a total douche, but I love the lunkhead.

  Dinner is a great time. We’re loud, but it’s all in good fun. Don’t get me wrong, we get crazy, but we don’t want to do anything that could get any of us in trouble with the team staff.

  We pay our bill and head toward the front of the restaurant. When we step onto the sidewalk out front, some fans stop us for pictures and autographs. Over a year and a half later and you think I’d be used to people wanting my autograph, but it still freaks me out.