The Strike Out

by Quinn, Meghan

  “I don’t understand how you got me hooked.”

  He chuckles. “Well, it started with showing my fun side. Then my sexy side, then my caring side. It’s a process. A well-thought-out equation to snag the elusive Harmony Styles.”

  “Glad you’ve thought it through.”

  His hand floats farther up my shirt to my breast. He lightly passes his thumb over the hardened nub. “Still sensitive?”

  Lips locked together, I nod.

  “Still horny?”

  I nod again.

  “Good, because I’m really craving your pussy.”

  “No way. My parents will hear us. You know I’m not quiet.”

  His hand releases my breast and trails down to my slit, where he slides a finger over it easily. “Ah, fuck, babe. You’re so wet. Please let me take care of this for you.”

  My legs part against my will. “Just your fingers,” I say. “And cover my mouth.”

  He chuckles. “Easy, babe.”

  * * *

  “Sure you’re ready?” Holt asks as he puts his shirt on.

  Last night, after I came on his fingers, I gave him a quick—and I mean quick—hand job before we both passed out. I woke up this morning feeling good, no morning sickness—luckily—and I think we need to take advantage of that.

  I nod. “Better now than after my morning sickness hits me.”

  “True.” He walks over to me, his hair sticking up on all ends, a lazy smile on his face. No one has ever been more handsome than my man, especially when he has love in his eyes for me. He grips my hips and places a kiss on my forehead. “Then let’s do this.”

  He takes my hand in his and together, we walk to the kitchen, where both my parents are in their robes, going over their Thanksgiving Day game plan. They take meal prep very seriously.

  “Good morning,” I say, a bout of nerves hitting me all at once. I squeeze Holt’s hand to make sure he’s there with me. He squeezes back.

  Mom and Dad both look up. “Good morning. How did you sleep?”

  “Great,” Holt answers. “How about you?”

  “Couldn’t stop thinking about the turkey,” Dad answers. “We’re frying it, and I’m not sure I have enough oil.”

  “You have plenty of oil.” Mom pats his shoulder and gestures to the table. “Muffins and orange juice. Help yourself.”

  Holt and I both take a seat at the table and as he pours me a glass of orange juice, he nudges me under the table.

  I clear my throat and say, “Uh, could you guys set the meal planning to the side for a second? I want to talk to you about something.”

  Mom lowers her reading glasses and asks, “Oh? Is everything okay?”

  Oh God.

  This is going to be harder than I thought.

  “Yeah.” My stomach churns. “Um, we kind of wanted to tell you that . . . uh . . .” I look to Holt, who smiles at me, giving me the courage. “Umm, I wanted to say . . .” My teeth chatter. My stomach quivers. I can’t seem to find the words.

  “Harmony is pregnant,” Holt says for me, placing his hand on my thigh reassuringly.

  Mom and Dad both sit back in their chairs, stunned.

  Okay, they really weren’t expecting that. But who was?

  I was the girl who wanted nothing more than to get out of the small town she was living in and make something of herself. I’ve never shown interest in babies. In starting a family of my own. I never even attempted a babysitting job.

  And yeah, I’m young.

  So, I can understand why they might be shocked.

  “You’re pregnant?” Mom finally asks.

  “Yes,” I answer.

  “How . . . how far along are you?”

  “Not sure. We have an appointment on Saturday.” Okay, I can do this. These questions are easy.

  Dad straightens in his chair and looks Holt in the eyes. “Are you planning on marrying my daughter?”

  Okay, maybe these questions aren’t as easy as—

  “Yes,” Holt answers.

  Uh . . . say what?”

  I turn to Holt. “Excuse me?”

  Not addressing me, but my father instead, he says, “I’ve been planning on marrying your daughter since a month into dating her. It’s been a no-brainer for me from the beginning, Mr. Styles. Getting pregnant jumps the gun on my plans, but it doesn’t change anything. I’m in love with her and I can’t imagine being with anyone else but her.”

  Oh . . . dear . . . God.

  “And I know you’re concerned about Harmony finishing school, but I already spoke with an advisor and she can finish her degree online. So, if I’m drafted in the spring, she can come with me. I’ll be able to provide for us and be there for her as much as I can when I’m not on the road. I have every intention of taking care of Harmony and our baby.”

  This man.

  The fun-loving, teasing, irritating man I met before school started. Never in my wildest dreams would I have ever thought he’d speak so passionately about me. Nor would I have ever thought we’d be in love and expecting a baby.

  But here we are, and in this moment, I don’t think I could be luckier.

  “Well,” Dad says, scratching behind his ear. “I don’t know what to say to that, other than you’re a good man, Holt Green.”

  “Yeah?” he asks, surprised. I don’t think he was prepared for such a response.

  Neither was I.

  “You’re really pregnant?” Mom asks, tears in her eyes.

  “I am.” My eyes well up too.

  “I wasn’t expecting to be a grandma this young, but I’ll take what I can get.” Mom stands from her chair. She comes over to me and pulls me out of my seat and into a hug. Quietly she asks, “Are you okay, sweetie?”

  “Yes,” I answer, tears falling down my cheeks.

  Dad joins us and pulls me into a hug as Mom hugs Holt. Whispering, he says, “He loves you. I can see it in his eyes.”

  “I know, Dad. I love him too.”

  “Sometimes love is all you need to build a beautiful future on.” He kisses me on the head and holds me tight.

  And this is one of the many reasons I love and respect my parents so much. They know it’s been my dream to leave small-town life and make something of myself. It’s driven me for the last three years. And even though my plans now look as if they’ll be derailed—or perhaps, will take longer to come to fruition—all they care about is that their baby girl is cared for and happy. To be content . . . just like Mom said she has been all these years. God, I’m so lucky. After a few seconds, Dad pulls away and reaches out to Holt. Taking his hand, he says, “I’m trusting you to take care of her.”

  Holt looks my dad in the eyes. “You have my word.”

  * * *

  “You okay, baby?” Holt asks, rubbing my back as I lean over the toilet.

  I let out a breath and sit back, my stomach starting to settle down. “Yeah. I think so.” I lean against the wall, letting my head fall back. “Who knew Thanksgiving dinner would have this kind of effect on me?”

  “Yams will never be the same for me.”

  I chuckle and lean against him. He wraps his arms around me and holds me tight. “Thank you for watching me puke.”

  “Not sure I’ve ever been thanked for that before, but I’ll take it.” He picks up the cold washcloth and presses it against my head. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah. The nausea is gone.”

  “Good.” He presses another kiss to my head. “Now that you’re feeling better, I’m going to be honest—watching you get sick scares me. I hate seeing you like that.”

  “Because you love me?” I ask in a teasing tone. “Because you want to marry me?”

  He tickles my side. “Don’t make fun of me.”

  “So, you can dish it but not take it?”

  “Nah, I can take all the fucking teasing, but not when it comes to you and what we have.”

  “Can I ask you something?” I turn to look at him.

  “Anything.”
>
  “Were you serious, that a month in, you knew you wanted to marry me?”

  “No question in my mind,” he answers.

  “And when were you going to talk to me about this?”

  “When the time was right,” he answers softly.

  “And when will the time be right? Because I don’t want—”

  “Not anytime soon.” His voice is soothing. “One step at a time. We’ve got plenty of time to make things legal. You’re mine in my heart and that’s all that matters. Let’s just make sure you’re healthy. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I answer, a smile on my face, because strangely, I am okay. And I can definitely see how much I’ve changed. A few months ago, I wouldn’t have called Fifer about an internship because Holt Green set it up. Knowing that, once again, Holt has found alternative pathways for me to finish my degree and the internship shows such respect and love. So, yeah, my life is looking different, but I’m okay.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  HOLT

  “I still can’t believe it,” I say, staring at the picture of our little peanut.

  Harmony chuckles as she sleepily cuddles into her pillow. We spent the afternoon at the doctor’s and waited on test results to confirm her pregnancy. Afterward, we snuck by the diner and grabbed milkshakes to go, courtesy of Priya, and then came back to Harmony’s place, where she’s been resting.

  I smooth my hand over her forehead and watch as her eyes drift shut. She’s been extremely tired lately, which the doctor said is normal. As much as I want to talk to her right now, I need to let her rest.

  July twenty-fourth is her due date.

  Fucking July twenty-fourth.

  Why is that such an issue?

  Because that’s the exact time when I’d be sent off to a club if drafted. For some reason, I thought we’d have more time, but to think that she’s going to possibly have the baby when I can’t be there to hold her hand makes me physically ill. I knew the baby would come during the season, but it never fully clicked until today.

  Harmony said something about a summer birthday being fun because we could go on vacations, but I honestly can’t remember because all I could think about was how this summer was going to go down. I honestly have no fucking clue who’s going to draft me, but being drafted is inevitable. I would consider skipping the draft this year and going next year, but with a baby on the way, I want to be able to start my career as quickly as possible so I don’t have to rely on my trust fund to support my family. I want to be able to support my family on my own.

  The trust fund will help for the first few years while I’m making shit in the minors, and I’m grateful for the fund, because wherever we move, I’ll make sure we move to a nice place. It doesn’t have to be fancy, but it doesn’t have to be a shithole like I know a lot of minor league players live in.

  But what if we’re not close to her family? I know her mom will want to be a part of this baby’s life. Should I fly her out to be with Harmony? Would her mom be able to take off enough work to be with her? I know my parents will help, but Harmony isn’t that close with them yet. When we told them the news this morning over FaceTime, they were clearly apprehensive, but were also excited at the same time.

  Dad texted me after and told me priority number one is my family.

  Priority number two is baseball.

  I need to find a way to put Harmony first, but I’m struggling with how to do that when I also need to focus on baseball so I can make something of myself.

  The distinct feeling of anxiety starts to creep up the back of my neck. How the fuck am I going to do this? My future is going to take me away from Harmony for weeks on end at times. Is she going to resent me for that? Does she resent me now because she’s having to change her dreams, her future, because of me? Because I couldn’t keep my hands off her?

  We haven’t really talked about her future as much as mine. I’ve geared everything around what’s going to happen in the spring. I never asked her what her actual plans were. I just figured it all out on my own.

  My finger continues to sweep across her forehead. I’d give it all up for her.

  I fucking would.

  Baseball has been my happy place. Baseball has been my home.

  But over the last few months, home has started to change into something else. It’s started to become Harmony’s arms. Harmony’s smile. Harmony’s brilliant wit. She’s the one who makes me feel as though I’m home.

  And I would give up anything for her. Fucking anything.

  She shifts closer to me and quietly says, “I can hear you thinking.”

  “What?” I laugh.

  Her eyes sleepily pop open. “You’re worried.”

  “Worried? Nah, babe, I’m not worried,” I say as calmly as I can.

  “Don’t lie to me, Holt. I saw the second you became worried in the doctor’s office. Your mind is churning, so instead of holding it in, talk to me.”

  Hell.

  She knows me too well at this point.

  There’s no way in hell I’m going to put my worries on her, though. That’s the last thing she needs. But there is one thing I have to know.

  Moving my thumb to her cheek, I continue to stroke her soft skin as I say, “I’d give it all up for you, Harmony.”

  Her brow creases. “Give up what?”

  “Baseball.”

  “What?” Her eyes widen. “Why would you say that?”

  “When we found out you were pregnant, I assumed you’d be the one who would set your life to the side. I assumed you’d put your dreams on hold while I pursued mine. I planned it all out. I found out how you could follow me. I didn’t even discuss it with you, I just laid it out, as if I had the solution. But that was no solution, because you were the one doing all the compromising. It was more of a dictatorship.”

  She sits up and crosses her legs, facing me. “Don’t be ridiculous, Holt. You didn’t dictate to me what was going to happen.”

  “You didn’t have a say in it.” I take her hand in mine. “I love you, Harmony. You’re it for me. And five years down the road, when we’re married and somewhere random that baseball has brought us, a four-year-old running around our house, I don’t want you to sit back and regret your life because it wasn’t how you planned it. I don’t want you to resent me for changing the plans you had in your head. Baseball has been my life for as long as I can remember, but that’s changing. You’re becoming my life now, you and the baby. I need to put you first.”

  She sighs as her hair falls over her face. I reach out and push it behind her ear for her. When she looks up at me, she says, “I called my mom a while back, when I wasn’t sure about our relationship, when I was trying to figure it all out. I wasn’t expecting to start a relationship this year, let alone fall madly in love with someone. But it happened, and at first, it was hard for me to grasp, so I talked to my mom about it. Do you know what she said?”

  “What?” I ask, keeping her hand in mine, needing the connection.

  “She told me she’d had plans too. She was going to live in New York City and find her purpose in the big city. I never would have guessed in a million years that’s what she’d wanted when she was young. But then she met my dad, and that all changed. Everything she thought she’d wanted changed. Now she can’t imagine her life any other way. She loves living in a small town. She loves staying in her radius and sticking to her routine.” She wets her lips and looks me in the eyes. “You’re everything I want. What I previously thought was the life I wanted has rotated to include you and your dreams. I can bring the positive in many ways. I can work remotely. I can still make my goals a reality. You’re different. You have to play the game in order to accomplish your dreams. Don’t think of me as following you. Think of me as being a cheerleader by your side.”

  Grateful emotions clog my throat, making it feel tight. “Fuck,” I mutter as I reach up and cup her cheek. “How did I get so lucky?”

  “Mad persistence.”

  I chuckle and gently
lay her down on the bed. I slip my hand under her shirt and press my hand to her stomach. Looking her in the eyes, I say, “I love you, baby.”

  “I love you.” She reaches up and presses the spot between my eyes. “Next time, talk to me. Okay? You don’t have to keep everything in. I was waiting to see if you were going to say something when we got home. I know when you’re upset, Holt. Don’t hide it from me. This is what I’m here for.”

  “You’re dealing with a lot. I’m not about to worry you some more.”

  “Your worries are my worries. Okay?”

  I nod, even though in the back of my head, I realize I’m hiding my concerns from her. She’s pregnant as a junior in college and the baby daddy’s life is about to be rocked in the spring. Those are concerns she doesn’t need to worry about. Those are on me. And I’ll be damn sure to make certain everything works out.

  That she’s protected.

  That she has everything she needs.

  That she’s happy.

  * * *

  Knox: Dude, where are you?

  Carson: One guess: with his girl.

  Knox: Yeah, Carson told me he met her. What the hell, man?

  Holt: I’m at her house right now.

  Knox: Spending the night? Dude, we never get to see you anymore.

  Carson: You’re one to talk. You’re always with Emory. With the two of you off with your girls, I’ve had to spend more time with Jason, and his drama queen ways are starting to wear on me. I find myself getting outraged over filthy condiment bottles in the dining hall like he does. It’s not a good look on me.

  Knox: At least I bring Emory to the loft. Holt doesn’t bring his girl over here.

  Holt: For obvious reasons. Harmony has a nicer place with a roommate who’s never home anymore. It’s called privacy.

  Knox: She has a name! Harmony . . . Wait, is she the girl from the diner?

  Carson: You’re so far behind, it’s embarrassing.

  Holt: Was there a point to this thread?

  Knox: Just wondering where you’ve been. I’m worried. You’ve been pretty quiet lately.