The Strike Out

by Quinn, Meghan

  “I’m not that guy. You should know that by now.”

  Her lashes flutter and another wave of tears fall down her cheeks. I quickly wipe them away.

  “Harmony.” Her eyes connect with mine. “I want you. Only you. I just assumed when I was drafted, we were going to make it work. You’d fly out to be with me over the summer, still work the internship, and when school started back up, we’d only have a few months before the season is over and I can come back here to be with you until spring training. Hell, we’d only be separated from each other for a few months and then we could be together.”

  “You’d want me to stay with you over the summer?”

  “Fuck yeah.” My energy is coming back, excitement blooming. “I’m not saying it’ll be the nicest of dwellings, but we’ll make it work. You can write, edit, do what you need to do remotely, but still be with me.”

  “Oh.” Her lips turn up. “So, then I guess . . . we’re good.”

  I laugh. “Yes, babe. We’re good.”

  Trying to be as nonchalant as possible, she nods casually and says, “Okay. Cool.”

  I laugh even harder and then tackle her to the bed. Her beautiful hair fans out underneath her as I pin her hands to the mattress.

  “What the hell just happened?”

  “Horrible miscommunication.”

  “I’d say.” I lean down and rub my nose along her jaw, followed by sweet, soft kisses. “Jesus, for a second, I thought you were walking out of my life. Hell, I was panicked, babe.”

  Her legs part beneath me, making room for my body. “I was planning on making sure Priya was home so I could cry on her shoulder.”

  “That escalated quickly.”

  She chuckles. “Yeah, I’m sorry, Holt. For some reason, I think I got spooked by the whole not knowing your friends issue. I think adding that together with this sudden knowledge that you were leaving just didn’t mesh well. But we’re good now, I promise.”

  I press a kiss against her lips. “Good.” I lift off her and sit at the edge of the bed.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Breaking in my room.” I pull her to a sitting position and then nod toward the center of my room. “Strip for me, baby.”

  Not saying a word, she stands from my bed and positions herself right in front of me. I keep my hands in my lap and my eyes trained on her as she lifts her shirt up and over her head, revealing a light-purple bra that compliments her skin tone. Her breasts are full, lifted, and looking especially sexy tonight. She then kicks off her shoes, peels her socks off, and takes off her pants, dropping them with the rest of her clothes. She’s left in her bra and light-purple lace thong.

  I swivel my finger in a circle. “Spin for me.”

  Slowly, she pushes her hands through her hair and turns. My mouth waters while I take in the curves of her body.

  “So goddamn sexy.” I scoot back and hold my hand out. She takes it and I slowly lower her so her stomach is lying across my lap. I smooth my hand over her backside and then up her spine to the clasp of her bra. I unsnap it with a flick of my fingers.

  Knowing exactly what I want, I smooth my hand down her back and under the strap of her thong, then glide my hand between her cheeks, where I find her already wet pussy.

  “Yes,” she whispers while relaxing across my lap. “Yes, Holt.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  HARMONY

  “Hi, Mom,” I say, waving to her on FaceTime.

  “Hi, sweetie.” She’s sitting in her favorite chair. My guess is she’s knitting something because I can faintly hear Dolly Parton in the background, and there’s a flicker of light on her face coming from the fireplace. “How are you?”

  “Good,” I answer. “I wanted to tell you that I’ll be coming home for Thanksgiving.”

  “What?” Her eyes widen. “Harmony, how? I thought you were saving your money for your ticket home for Christmas.”

  I glance to the side and then look back at the phone. “Uh, I’d like you to meet someone.”

  Holt scoots in, and my mom’s hand lands on her chest as she says, “Oh my goodness, this must be Holt.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Styles.” Holt waves. “It’s great to finally meet you.”

  “Oh, the pleasure is all mine.” Mom attempts to fix her hair and sit up straighter. It makes me giggle. She’s actually flustered. “I’ve heard so much about you. All good. Harmony seems to be smitten with you.”

  Holt smiles and looks at me. “I’m pretty smitten with her as well.”

  “Oh, dear heavens. Well, this is wonderful.” And then, as if there’s a megaphone attached to her mouth, she shouts, “Bob. Bob, get out here. Harmony is on the phone with her boyfriend.” When Dad doesn’t answer, Mom presses her hand to her forehead. “Oh jeez, I forgot. He’s at the store getting apple pie. He had a craving.”

  I laugh, and Holt chuckles next to me.

  “Mom, are you okay?”

  She shakes her head and tears start to well up in her eyes.

  “Mom?”

  She waves her hand in front of her face. “I’m sorry. I’m overwhelmed.” She takes a deep breath. “So you’re coming home for Thanksgiving?”

  Unsure of what’s going on with my mom, I nod. “Yes. Even though I told him no many times, Holt is going to fly us home. I was hoping it would be okay if I bring him with me.”

  “Oh, my goodness. Of course. We’d love to meet you in person.”

  “I’m not crashing your family Thanksgiving?” Holt asks.

  “Not at all.” Mom glances around the house. “Oh goodness, I’m going to have to do a deep cleaning of this house before you get here.”

  “Mom, that’s not necessary.”

  She waves me off. “I’ve been needing an excuse to go through your dad’s sock drawer and get rid of some old socks.”

  “Mom, you don’t need to filter out old socks before we get there. Holt isn’t even interested in socks.”

  “Zero interest in socks,” he says next to me. “I’m more concerned about underwear. How are the holes on that end?”

  I nudge him, and my mom laughs. “Oh dear. Well, aren’t we going to have fun this Thanksgiving?” She takes a deep breath. “I can’t wait.” She tears up again. “Thank you, Holt, for bringing our girl home. It means a lot to us.”

  “I’m excited to see where Harmony grew up and to meet you and Mr. Styles.”

  “And your parents are okay with you coming to our place?”

  “Yes. They’re actually head chairs at a food bank in New York City. Thanksgiving hasn’t really been a family holiday, more like a time to give back. I asked them if it was okay if I took the moment to meet you both, and they thought it was important that I did. As long as you’re okay with me coming.”

  “It’ll be a wonderful addition. How long will you be here?”

  “Just two days. I have a shift at the diner that I couldn’t get out of,” I answer.

  “Two days will do, then. Well, I’m excited to see you two. What a wonderful surprise.”

  * * *

  “Get ready for a lot of hugs from my mom,” I say, getting out of the rental car Holt insisted on getting for us.

  “I’m excited.” He glances up at our modest ranch house. The trees have lost their leaves, the grass is dead, and there are mums hanging from plant hooks along the porch. Those are new. It makes me smile. Mom is trying.

  Holt goes to the back of the car, where he grabs our suitcases and sets them on the ground before shutting the trunk. The front door opens just as Holt presses a kiss to my head. I glance over to find my mom standing on the porch, holding her hands to her chest.

  “She’s going to gush all over you,” I say quietly. “Beware.”

  “Hi,” Mom says, waving. I walk up to her and give her a big hug, which is short-lived, because she’s quickly moving me to the side to get to my man. “And you must be Holt.” Mom opens her arms and Holt bends down to give her a hug. “Oh, it’s so nice to meet you. And you’re even more hands
ome in person.”

  “It’s great to meet you, Mrs. Styles.”

  “Is that my Harmony?” Dad asks, walking toward us in his classic plaid long-sleeve and jeans.

  “Hey, Dad,” I say as he pulls me into a hug. When he releases me, he turns to Holt and holds out his hand. “Holt Green, it’s great to meet you.”

  Holt gives my dad a firm handshake. “Mr. Styles, the pleasure is mine. Thank you for having me. I know Thanksgiving can be a sacred family time, so I’m quite grateful to be here.”

  “No thanks needed.” Dad pats his stomach. “As long as you’re ready to eat, then you’re welcome.”

  “Oh, I can eat,” Holt says.

  “Well, then let’s get in the house.” Mom claps her hands. Dad follows in behind her, and Holt grabs our bags, taking both of them in.

  I smile up at him, grateful my parents already seem to like him, although I’m not terribly surprised. My mom? A total pushover—and she swooned. My dad? Ever practical and kindhearted, he’ll learn about Holt by possibly saying little. Time will tell.

  One thing that was very clear when I met his parents was their wealth. Their wealth to be able to fly out for a baseball game. My parents can’t even afford to travel to Chicago, and haven’t in the three years I’ve been there. I need to put a stop to those thoughts, though, and just hope that Holt is as genuine as I think he is and not going to think less of my parents.

  Again, time will tell.

  * * *

  “I can’t believe my parents aren’t making you sleep on the couch,” I say as we take our suitcases to my childhood room.

  After we spent the evening playing games and eating pizza, the classic night-before-Thanksgiving meal, we talked by the fire while Holt held my hand the entire time. My parents asked Holt about baseball, what his thoughts were on his upcoming draft, his major, and how he planned on finishing his degree if he was drafted. He patiently answered each and every question, he spoke about me and how impressed his dad and Fifer are with the work I’ve done on New York, New York, and he even admitted to me giving him a run for his money—that he was grateful I gave him a chance.

  Now that we’re retiring for the night, I asked about blankets for Holt, and they told me to not pretend and to just take him back to my room. To say I was shocked is an understatement. Also, slightly embarrassed. I know I’m older now, but I still assumed they’d have Holt sleep somewhere other than my room.

  “I won them over,” Holt whispers. “They have no problem sending their daughter into the teenage cave of boy-band love with her boyfriend.”

  “There’s no boy-band love,” I say as I open the door to my plain bedroom.

  Holt steps into the room and glances around. “Huh. I was expecting a lot more than this.”

  I shut the door behind him. “Trust me, it used to be covered in collages and posters. This past summer, I took down all the embarrassing posters and my trophies and gave my parents a proper guestroom for when their siblings visit.”

  A few items of memorabilia remain on my dresser, but other than that, it’s new sheets, new comforter, new paint. Erased the old and gave my parents something new.

  “Well, damn. I wish I saw it in its glory.”

  “Such a shame.” I smile up at him.

  “Should we get ready for bed?”

  I nod and grab my suitcase from him. We take our turns getting ready in the hall bathroom. I let him go first, and when I come back in the room from brushing my teeth and using the toilet, I find him sitting on the edge of my bed, hands in his lap, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a shirt. His eyes sweep over me and he chuckles.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I think this is the most clothing we’ve ever worn to bed together.”

  I glance down at my matching nightshirt and pants and chuckle. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve worn these since I’ve met you.”

  “I sure as hell haven’t seen them. Now, your thongs . . . I’m well acquainted with those.”

  Rolling my eyes, I set down my toiletry bag next to my suitcase and go to the bed, where I pull down the comforter and sheets. Holt hops in with me and spoons me once we’re settled. His hand goes to my stomach, where he holds me tightly.

  “How are you feeling, baby?”

  His hand travels a little lower, and he holds me gently.

  “Okay. A little nauseous, but okay.”

  “Need me to go get you anything?”

  I shake my head. “Just hold me. Hold us.”

  He snuggles in even closer and kisses the side of my head. “What do you think your parents are going to say tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know.” My mind starts to whirl with possibilities.

  Four days ago, we found out I was pregnant. We’re still trying to figure out how it happened. Well, we know how it happened, but we don’t know how my birth control failed. Holt likes to think it’s his powerful sperm that broke through the barricade of sperm blockers. He’s been walking around with his chest puffed out.

  When I realized I missed my period, I knew right away I was pregnant. We’ve had way too much sex for me not to be. When the pee stick was positive, there was shock. But, strangely, there was no outrage. And that has a lot to do with Holt. Despite the enormous changes it put on us as a couple, our future trajectory, he was elated. It gave me more confidence in our relationship, that he didn’t once seem disappointed.

  “I would never have thought that becoming a dad in my early twenties would be something I’d be excited about. But it’s with you, Harmony. We’ve created something wonderful. It’s simply an earlier kickstart on our forever, baby. We’ve got this.”

  We’ve got this.

  A peace settled over us, and those words have been on repeat since. At no point have I felt this is detrimental to my plans, and that has amazed me. I’m no longer just Harmony Styles against the world, forging my own path.

  I have a partner in crime now.

  And when I asked Holt if we could go home for Thanksgiving to tell my parents, he was completely on board. He set up everything and was able to find flights that get us back to Chicago Friday night for an appointment Saturday with an OBGYN that happened to be open—thankfully. I told my mom I had a shift at work, but that was to cover up for the appointment.

  “Are you scared?” he asks.

  “A little, yeah. They’re going to ask questions and I don’t think we have any answers.”

  “What do you think they’ll ask? Let’s think of the answers now so we’re prepared tomorrow.”

  I turn in his arms and face him. “Can you take this off?” I tug on his shirt.

  “Anything you want,” he says before pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it to the side. My hand immediately goes to his bare skin to soak up his warmth. Instantly I start to feel better. More at ease.

  His hand snakes under my shirt and runs to my back, where he holds me tightly. “Ask me the questions.”

  “Okay.” I take a deep breath. “Are you planning on keeping the baby?”

  Looking me in the eyes, Holt says, “Yes.”

  “Are you still going to enter yourself into the draft?”

  “Yes.”

  “What are you going to do when you get drafted?” I ask the one question that’s been on my mind since we found out.

  “Well, I haven’t spoken to Harmony about this yet,” he says, as though he’s talking to my parents, and it makes me love him that much more, going along with this crazy plan. “But I’ve been doing some research, and with the help of my advisor, I was able to find out she can complete her degree online.”

  “What?” I ask. “Really?”

  “Yeah. I have all the information on the program in my backpack.”

  “Seriously? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

  He grips me tightly when he says, “You might have been saying you’re okay, but I know you, babe. I can tell when you’re nervous. I didn’t want to spring this on you unless you were ready for it. Seems as though
the time is here. But if you want to stay at Brentwood, attend in person, we can figure something out.”

  I shake my head and reach my hands to his cheeks. “No, I want to be with you. Wait, that’s what you’re saying, right? That I can go with you?”

  “Yes.” He laughs. “I’ll be traveling so I won’t be there every day, but I won’t be that far away. We can find a small apartment together, you can work on your internship as well as school, and when the time comes, we can take care of the baby.”

  “You really want me with you?”

  “Yes, Harmony,” he says, looking me dead in the eyes. “I want you with me . . . always.”

  “And you’re not scared of being a dad?”

  His hand smooths up my side. “I mean, I’m not confident, but I know there’s time to learn. My dad’s awesome, so I feel I have a really good role model. We’re going to make a great team, Harmony. And, yeah, it won’t be perfect. We’re volatile and wear our emotions on our sleeves, so, we’ll get into fights and there will be times when you can’t stand me, as we’ve seen a few times already in our relationship. And I think we’ve also seen that we always ensure we reconcile rather than stay angry.” He pauses and combs his fingers through my hair, something I’ve grown to love. “How we work together to move past things that rankle us makes me trust you even more, Harmony. I’m in this, with you, with us, for the long haul. In my mind, there’s no other option. I love you. Period.”

  “You realize you don’t speak like the average college man?”

  “When have I ever been average, babe?” He rubs my stomach. “I think we have proof of that.”

  “Oh my God.” I laugh as he presses a kiss to my lips. “Please, for the love of God, don’t talk about your powerful sperm to my dad, okay?”

  “Why not? My nut-sack is carrying actual medical marvels inside of it. That’s something your dad should know.”