Todd Masterson, my lawyer, had been extremely apologetic and said he would remedy the situation immediately, but that didn’t make me feel any better.
It wasn’t like it was his kid that it happened to.
Sure, the man was family and all, being married into the Free family by way of James’ mother, but right now I couldn’t help but be a little miffed with him.
I’d yet to inform my parents.
I didn’t want to worry them if I didn’t have to, but I just knew this was going to turn out really, really bad.
Like the worst type of bad.
The type of bad where I’d have to be in contempt of court because I refused to let Corrinne have my child under any circumstances.
Then I felt her.
It started out as cool palm right above my elbow but turned into a warm body pressing into my back, and two arms looping around my belly.
Lennox laid her head against my back, between my shoulder blades, and gave me a tight squeeze.
Instantly I felt better.
Calmer.
Her being here was one less thing that I had to worry about right then.
“Hey,” she said against my back.
Reagan threw a pitch, and the girl at bat struck out, causing me to scream.
“There you go, baby! One more and you’re up to bat!” I yelled, shaking my hands in the chain-link fence.
Lennox chuckled against my back, and I grabbed ahold of one of her arms and pulled her until her front was pressed underneath my arm.
Looking down into her blue eyes, I finally felt a little peace.
“I’m glad you came,” I rumbled softly.
Her eyes flared, and she gave me a soft smile. “Your family’s glad I came, too.”
I chuckled, dropping a kiss down onto her forehead as I looked up in time to see Reagan throw one right down the middle.
I winced, holding my breath as the girl hit it.
Luckily, it popped straight up, and Ali, the shortstop, was able to catch it without the least bit of effort.
“That a girl!” I yelled, whistling loudly with my tongue, front teeth, and lip.
“Your girl there’s pretty good,” Lennox said softly, bringing my attention back down to her.
I nodded.
“She has a pitching coach, and she plays anytime she can. I’ll bet she’s a little badass by the time she gets to high school,” I concurred.
“I watched from my car for a little bit while I was on the phone with my parents. I used to enjoy softball, but I was never good like her. And she’s only eight. Just imagine what she’ll accomplish when she’s seventeen,” Lennox said sincerely.
I shivered.
“I’d really like to not think about when she’s seventeen. I like to take things one day at a time. Because if I do, I don’t have to think about the fact that I’ll somehow need to come up with money to pay for college. Or a car. Or a wedding,” I told her honestly.
She laughed.
“Just because you don’t think about it, doesn’t mean it won’t happen in ten years,” she supplied helpfully.
I scowled down at her. “It works for me. Promise.”
“Bennett,” my mother called from behind me. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
I sighed, breaking away from Lennox’s gaze, and turned to find my mother and father standing directly behind me.
My dad was a big man, and my mom somewhat small.
In fact, if I had to guess what Lennox and I’d look like twenty-five years from now, it’d be similar to the two people standing in front of me.
My heroes.
My parents.
The people I could count on for anything.
“Yeah,” I said, nodding my head. “Just as soon as Reagan bats.”
I didn’t bother to placate either one of them.
I missed quite a few games as it was, and since I was here, I’d not miss it because I was busy introducing my parents to my girlfriend.
Reagan jogged up to the plate with her hot pink bat, set her feet, and swung the bat twice before getting into her stance.
Her hot pink helmet hid her face from my view, but I knew she had her eye on the ball.
Her attention honed in on the pitcher.
I felt Lennox move out of my arms and turn to face the game, eyes on Reagan just the same as mine were.
My father sidled up to my side, took a similar stance at me, and watched.
The first pitch came and Reagan let it come, knowing it was too low and on the inside.
The next pitch was one and the same.
It was the third pitch that she yakked it.
Hit it hard straight up the middle, straight past the second baseman where it came to a stop between center and right field.
“Go, baby go!” I yelled excitedly.
“Go Reagan, run hard!” Lennox screamed.
“Thatta girl!” my father screamed.
And the praise continued by the other people who were watching the game, as well as Reagan’s coach, and her teammates.
“Holy hell,” Lennox said, shaking her head. “That girl can hit!”
I completely agreed. I was still flabbergasted every time I saw her do it.
I’d never been very good at baseball.
I was a football man myself.
I played throughout my high school career and still picked up the odd game even now.
I missed it desperately, too.
Those days were easier.
Not that I didn’t love my life right now, but then, when my parents made all the decisions and I didn’t have to worry about anyone hurting me or mine, it was a lot simpler.
“Alright, my boy. Your girl hit, now I wanna meet this one,” my mother said, poking a bony finger into my back.
Sighing, I turned around, hooking Lennox’s neck as I did, and bringing her into my side.
“Mom, Dad, this is Lennox. Lennox, these are my parents, Tony and Jessie Alvarez,” I introduced them.
My mother held out her hand for Lennox’s and shook it fiercely. “I’ve been waiting a really long time to meet you,” my mother said loudly. “I didn’t think Bennett would ever introduce us!”
It’d been a few weeks. She acted like I’d kept Lennox to myself for two years.
Lennox smiled as she gently let my mother’s hand go and offered it to my father. “Nice to meet you both.”
My father grinned. “So, Bennett tells me you’re a physician’s assistant. How do you like doing that?”
My mother didn’t let her answer, though. Instead she tugged on Lennox’s hand and pulled her away.
Lennox followed my mother, waving at me as she went. I knew my mother was doing it on purpose. My father wanted to talk to me, and my mother was always a good talker. She could make anyone like her, and the person would be none the wiser.
“Your lawyer called me this afternoon looking for you,” my father started.
I cursed and turned back to the field, surprised to see Reagan already on third with the bases loaded.
“It’s going to be alright, Bennett. We’d never let anything happen to her. And who’s to say that any of this will even be an issue in the morning?” My father asked when I continued to ignore the conversation.
I didn’t like where it was going.
But I knew I wouldn’t get past this without talking to him.
He wouldn’t let me.
“I don’t know, pop. I just can feel it. It’s sitting on my chest, getting tighter and tighter. I know she won’t let this go,” I told him, keeping my eye on Reagan as she took two steps off the base.
My father sighed and came to stand at the fence with me, shoulder to shoulder.
His arms were crossed over his chest as he said what I needed to hear.
“I had your back eight years ago when that little girl came into this world, and I’ll have your back now. She won’t be able to do anything
that you’re imagining she will. She’ll get her money back in the morning, and she’ll go away. If she knows what’s good for her, that is,” my father promised.
I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the chain-link fence.
“I hope you’re right, Dad,” I whispered hoarsely.
***
Lennox
“I can’t tell you how excited I am to meet you. Bennett and Reagan have told us a lot about you,” Jessie said excitedly as she dragged me toward the waiting group of women I could see were excited to add their two cents in.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, too. Bennett tells me you’re the one who taught Reagan all those manners she put on display the other night at my parent’s house,” I said to her.
I followed behind her, ignoring the way my head was starting to feel weird.
My skin was clammy, and I knew I’d have to eat something soon.
But then Jessie laughed, tugging on my hand before I could give it a second thought.
“Oh, that boy of mine’s a smooth talker, isn’t he? He may think that we had everything to do with her being such a good girl, but that all goes to Bennett. He’s a really good father and makes sure that his daughter knows the difference between right and wrong,” Jessie smiled fondly.
I grinned and took a deep breath as we finally came up on the group of men and women watching the game.
“Payton, Max, this is Lennox,” Jessie said proudly.
“We know who she is, Mom. We’ve met before,” Payton said dryly.
Jessie narrowed her eyes at her daughter, but Max offered his hand to me. “We’ve not met formally. I’m Max. This one’s,” he said, pointing at Payton. “Husband. You can feel sorry for me now.”
I laughed.
The big scarred man was good, I’d give him that.
“It’s nice to meet you, formally,” I said, shaking his hand.
He snorted and moved his feet off the bench in front of him before standing.
“Alright, well looks like that boy needs a little direction. I’ll check on y’all in a while,” Max said before heading over to Bennett and his father who were standing near the dugout, exactly where I’d left them.
Bennett looked pissed, even now.
I wondered what had happened to get him so upset. Was he mad at me?
Hell, I deserved to have him mad at me.
I was an ass for not calling him the past few days.
And a coward.
And a wiener.
I planned on telling Bennett tonight about my diabetes, and I also planned on telling him that I was taking a chance.
One that had me letting down my defenses.
See that was what I’d been doing the past couple days. Bringing them down. One brick at a time.
I also did a lot of soul searching, and I knew that Bennett wasn’t the type of man who would hurt me.
“So tell me about you, dear. Bennett tells me you work at the hospital,” Jessie said.
Nausea started to boil in my belly as the lightheadedness started to really pay a toll on my body.
I nodded at her, turning to face her slightly on the bleachers.
“I’m a PA at Good Shepherd. I work in the ER,” I told her. “Kind of like a physician, yet not.”
Payton laughed.
My eyes went to her, and I was struck with how similar we were. Both of us were similar in height and build. She had blonde hair where I had brown.
Not to mention the underside of her hair was purple where mine was still brown.
“What?” I asked with a smile.
She shook her head. “Nothing. I just liked how you played down the fact that you’re a PA. At twenty-six. That’s quite an accomplishment.”
I blushed.
Yeah, I’d heard that before.
“So you’re not too far from Payton, right?” Jessie asked.
I shook my head, but Payton beat me to answering.
“No Mom. Just two floors in between us. Not that that means anything. There are over four hundred people that work in that hospital, on any given day. It’d be a miracle had we seen each other before,” Payton explained.
Men’s raised voices had us turning to see Bennett, his father, and Max all screaming at the game.
And an especially animated Bennett was screaming about the umpire being a moron again.
“That boy needs to chill,” Jessie sighed, shaking her head.
“He’s been in a bad mood all day. He was fine when we walked the kids’ home from school, but something must’ve happened between then and now,” Payton said, shaking her head.
My heart ached.
Had something happened?
I probably would’ve known had I not been ignoring him the past few days.
I leaned forward and propped my head in my hands, resting them on my upraised knees as I listened to the two of them speculate what might’ve happened to Bennett that day to make him so angry.
Although, from the tales he’d told me over the past few weeks, I knew he didn’t really have the easiest of jobs. It was entirely possible that any number of things could’ve happened.
A ball tinked loudly against a metal bat, and my eyes snapped forward to see the ball sailing up and over the back of the gate.
I moved quickly out of the way, but the suddenness of the move had me going from lightheaded to about to pass out.
The ball slammed to the ground a few inches in front of where I’d been sitting only seconds before.
Although I managed to move, I knew that something other than getting up too fast was wrong.
I had to know my body well, which was how I knew my blood sugar was getting low.
“I think I’m going to run up to the concession stand. Anybody want anything?” I asked the two women.
They both shook their heads, and I got up to move down the front of the stands.
I passed the male huddle that was going on outside the dugout but didn’t stop when none of them turned their eyes toward me.
My limbs felt like they weighed a million pounds, and my eyes were starting to get droopy.
By the time I made it to the concession stand, I was about ready to pass out.
“What can I get you?” a pimply teenager asked tiredly.
“Gatorade and sour punches,” I told him quickly.
I knew I needed sugar, and without actually injecting myself, or chewing those nasty pills that always seemed to leave a bad taste in my mouth, that was the third best way to get it.
“That’ll be seven-fifty,” the boy said as he placed my items down on the sticky ledge in front of me.
I placed my wallet down onto the counter and said, “I have some cash in there. Can you get it for me?”
Then, pitifully, I twisted off the cap of the Gatorade and placed it to my mouth.
Hands trembling, I took two long sips and closed my eyes.
That’s when I swayed.
Going down to my knees, and then farther to my butt, I leaned my head against the concession stand and deep breathed.
Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out. I chanted that to myself over and over again, but I had a feeling it’d take more than a few sips to get my blood sugar back up.
“Ma’am?” the boy asked from above me.
I opened my eyes, ones that I hadn’t realized that I’d closed, and stared at the young boy who’d made his way around the concession stand.
“Yeah?” I asked weakly.
“Are you okay?” He asked worriedly.
I tried to take another sip of my juice but only managed to spill it on my shorts.
Luckily they were black and wouldn’t show the huge red stain.
“Can you help me drink this?” I asked, gesturing to him weakly with my Gatorade.
He took the drink from my hand, but before he could get it close to my lips, Bennett’s shout had me turning weakly to see him running toward us.
“D
on’t let him scare you. He’s a teddy bear,” I told the boy who was slowly backing away as if he could see that Bennett was intimidating.
“He doesn’t look too happy,” the boy said warily.
Bennett didn’t waste any time dropping down onto the dirt beside me, taking my head in his massive hands.
“What’s wrong?” he asked worriedly, scanning my body.
I blinked. “Low blood sugar. I was trying to drink that when you scared the poor boy.”
Bennett looked over his shoulder at the boy he’d effectively dismissed as a threat and held out his hands. “Give.”
The boy gave.
I tilted my head back slightly and opened my mouth as Bennett helped me drink.
He watched me avidly, eyes fastened on my throat as I drank deeply.
“Have you not eaten anything today or something?” he asked anxiously once he removed the bottle from my lips.
I licked them, bringing his attention back to my lips, before I answered.
“I have diabetes.”
He blinked.
“And?” he said.
I grinned. “I have diabetes, and this happens from time to time. My insulin makes my blood sugar drop into the toilets every once in a while, and I have to drink juice to get it to come back up.”
He exhaled and offered me the drink once again.
“This isn’t a sudden thing, is it?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. It takes a while to come on. I can usually circumvent it before it gets too bad.”
By now we’d gathered a crowd, mostly of the people trying to get food at the concession stand I was currently passed out in front of.
“Help me up,” I breathed, offering Bennett both hands.
He placed the half-empty Gatorade on the ledge, then ignored my hands and placed both of his into my armpits before lifting me up completely.
I swayed slightly on my feet but was feeling a lot better already.
It was amazing how well the human body bounced back from certain things.
Bennett stayed silent as he grabbed my things, paid for my food, and then walked me over to the bleachers.
Apparently, while I’d been ailing, the game had let out, and the only ones left were Bennett’s family.
And they were all looking at me with worry.
“Do I look that bad?” I asked apprehensively.
Bennett snorted. “You look like you got hit by a freight train, minus the bruising.”
Code 11- KPD SWAT Box Set Page 115
