by Tabatha Kiss
I laugh, suddenly remembering the pain radiating my brain. “Oh, yeah. Fucker.”
He laughs. “Yeah, I’ve been there.”
“You have?”
“When I was a kid,” he nods. “Got hit at a little league game. Woke up in the hospital, same as you.”
“Well…” I smile. “I hope it hurt.”
“It did.”
“Good.”
His eyes fall. “Do you want me to stay for the…”
“The ultrasound?” He nods. “No, you don’t have to.”
“But do you want me to?” he asks again.
“No,” I answer. “I’ll be fine. Rose is here.”
“Okay.” He smiles at me. “It was nice to see you again, Daisy.”
I nod. “You, too, Hunter.”
I mean it. I really do but that doesn’t really matter.
Hunter walks out slowly, pausing once to nod at me again before disappearing into the hallway.
I collapse back onto the pillow, feeling the pulsing pain grow in my head.
Rose barges back in and kicks the door closed behind her. “Okay… Start from the beginning.”
I point a finger at his trail. “I fucked that guy.”
“When?” she asks, plopping into the chair beside me.
I close my eyes, rushing over the memory. “The night you arrived.”
“Seriously?”
“You and John were here and I wasn’t reacting to your engagement all that well, so I just… left and found the nearest bar down the street.”
“And he was there?”
“He was the bartender.”
“Wow...” She blinks. “Was it nice?”
I sigh. “It was amazing.”
“That’s good, right?”
“No, Rose. It’s not.”
“Why not? What are you guys going to do?”
“There is no ‘you guys,’ Rose,” I say. “There’s me and there’s him and he’s got other, more important, things going on.”
She frowns. “Did he tell you that?”
“No, I told him that.”
“Daisy—”
“Rose, I can’t have this baby.”
“What are you talking about? Of course, you can. You are!”
“No, I’m not. I’m a mess. I can barely even take care of myself. What am I supposed to do with a baby?”
She pauses and I see the confusion behind her eyes. “Daisy, I’ve never thought you were a mess. I’ve always looked up to you.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, okay.”
“No, really. You’re the most confident person I’ve ever met in my life. You know who you are. You don’t care what others think of you, you never have.”
“And look where it got me,” I say, shaking my head. “No amount of confidence can make up for a tiny bank account and…” I pause. “I always promised myself I wouldn’t be like them.”
“Like who?”
“Like Mom and Dad.” Her posture sags. “I promised I’d never make a child grow up in a world so… broken. This kid deserves a real home. A real family. It sure as hell won’t get it from me and my one-night stand.”
“So, are you gonna get a…?” Her voice falls.
“No, I think I’d rather give it up. There are lots of couples that want babies but can’t have them. You know?”
She nods. “Right.”
“And besides, this is Home Run Hunter’s spawn,” I quip. “There’s definitely some sports fans out there that would pay top dollar for this kid on the market, you know what I mean?”
Rose stares at me with wide, horrified eyes.
“That was a joke,” I say. “… Sort of.”
She flicks my arm.
Chapter 8
Hunter
Daisy is having my baby.
I came so close to never knowing at all. If that pitcher hadn’t have tried that second curve ball. If I had been a split second too slow. If the wind didn’t blow just the right way. If the ball had rolled out of that guy’s glove to the left instead of the right. If it weren’t for that home run, I would have never known about my baby at all. She didn’t even know my real name.
I should go back. I should go back to that hospital and say what I really wanted to say; that if that baby really is mine then I’m going to be involved. A baby needs a family and as amazing as she is, Daisy Hawthorne can’t do that alone. I could see her drowning in those little, blue eyes.
“Home Run Hunter?”
I pause in the motel lobby, stopped by a rather busty redhead waiting for me by the front desk.
“Hi,” I say.
Probably just another fan. I don’t know how they keep finding our motels but moments after finding out I’m going to be a father is not the best time for a quick hook-up.
She extends her manicured hand. “Trisha Wells. Sports Illuminated magazine,” she says, her voice thick with a southern accent. “Do you mind if we chat for a moment?”
I shake her hand. Trisha Wells. I recognize the name. Hell, every athlete in America knows her name. “Sure.”
“So…” she begins, “you are quite the little celebrity in the world of minor league baseball.”
“So I’m told.”
“Ratings are up across the country. Our website’s servers are barely able to keep up with all the clicks. Folks are tuning in in record numbers to watch you slam yet another home run. Your stats are insane.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ve already cleared this with Coach Carl and Bud the manager…” She takes a quick step closer and I catch a whiff of her fancy perfume. “I want you to be my newest exposé.”
“The holiday exposé?”
She smirks. “So, you know it?”
“Yeah, I know it,” I chuckle.
Everyone knows about Trisha Wells’ holiday exposé.
“Here’s how it works…” She licks her lips. “Once a year, I choose an athlete, kind of a diamond in the rough, so to speak, and I give America an all-access pass. I travel around with them for the season, I’m in the dugouts with them, on the bus,” her eyebrow twitches, “in the motels. Wherever you go, I go, and we give the world a chance to fall even more in love with you.”
“Sounds invasive,” I note.
“Oh, it is, but it’s worth it,” she smiles. “I’ve showcased some of the best athletes in baseball and you’d be hard-pressed to find one that didn’t credit a piece of their success to me. So… Hunter… Does that sound like something you’d be interested in?”
It’s pretty clear that she’s interested in a little more than my talent for hitting homers but I don’t have the energy to think about this right now.
I take a quick step away. “Yeah, I’ll get back to you…”
“Don’t take too long,” she hums. “The bus leaves tomorrow and I want to be sitting right next to you. And believe me when I say that the rest of America wants that, too.”
I turn to leave, but pause. Trisha Wells’ exposés all have three things in common: a talented athlete, her witty prose, and…
“This exposé,” I ask, “does it include pictures?”
She grins. “I have a photographer from the magazine ready to go at the drop of a hat. He’ll travel with us and get your best side. Trust me. Not that you even have a bad side…”
I nod. “I’ll do it.”
She twitches with delight. “Really?”
“Under one condition.”
“Anything you want, honey.”
“I get to pick the photographer.”
“Well…” She squints. “I don’t think that’s possible…”
I shrug and take a wide step around her. “Sorry. No deal.”
“Okay — okay.” She darts out in front of me. “It’s a bit unorthodox but I think we can work something out.”
“Good.”
“So…” She bats her eyes at me. “Who did you have in mind?”
Chapter 9
Daisy
When I woke up this morning, I wasn’t e
xpecting the words yolk sac and fetal heartbeat to be a part of my day. But that’s life, I guess.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been staring at this photo. I’ve seen ultrasounds before on television but I never really thought twice about them. It’s a whole other matter entirely when you’re looking at something inside of your own body.
“What are you thinking about?” Rose asks, sitting down in the chair beside me in my kitchen. She puts a finger on the photo and pulls it closer to her.
“This thing,” I say.
“Obviously.” She slides her hand back, this time pushing a scrap of paper at me and I recognize Hunter’s phone number.
I push it back at her. “No.”
“I think you should call him,” she argues.
“Why?”
“Because he’s probably sitting around staring into space, too. It might be nice if he had something to stare at.” She gestures to the ultrasound photo.
“You think I should send it to him?”
She nods. “I think he would appreciate it.”
“Maybe.”
“Come on.” She flicks my shoulder. “Send it to him.”
I sigh and reach for my phone. “For the record, I’m acting under protest.”
“Duly noted. Send it.”
I hold the phone above the ultrasound and snap a picture of it before adding his number to my contact book.
The phone rings in my hand and I freeze, staring at the unrecognized number.
“Is it him?” Rose asks with excitement.
“No,” I say. I answer it and hold it up to my ear. “Hello?”
“Hi, this is Trisha Wells from Sports Illuminated magazine. Is this Daisy Hawthorne?”
My heart stops. Trisha Wells? The Trisha Wells? Why the hell is the Trisha Wells calling me?
“Uh… yeah. Yes. This is Daisy Hawthorne.”
“Oh, good! I’m sorry to bother you so late but I have a little opportunity I wanted to run by you.”
“An opportunity?” I push a nosey Rose off my shoulder.
“I just got done taking a peek at your portfolio, Daisy, and I must say, I’m surprised we haven’t called you sooner. You have a great eye.”
“Wow. Thank you, Ms. Wells.”
“This is very short notice but are you familiar with my annual exposé piece?”
“Yes!” I answer. “I look forward to it every year.”
“I thought so!” she chuckles. “Listen, I need a girl like you to team up with me and go on the road for this year’s article. Would you be interested in something like that?”
No fucking way.
Rose taps my arm, jolting me out of my trance.
“Daisy?” Trisha asks.
“Yes,” I finally answer. “Yes, of course, I’m interested! Thank you so much. How… how short notice?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
My jaw drops. “Oh, wow. That is really short notice.”
“I realize that but this is a once-in-a-lifetime gig, honey — and the magazine will shower you with benefits. Free lodging with the team, a per-diem for food and basic needs. The works.”
I wait for the catch. There has to be a catch, right? There’s no such thing as too good to be true, especially in my life.
“So, what do you say, Daisy? Are you with me?”
I look at Rose’s screwed up face. She waits on needles to find out what the hell is going on, same as me.
“Yes,” I answer. “I’m with you, Ms. Wells.”
“Oh, please. Trisha is fine, hun.”
“May I ask… who is this year’s exposé on?”
“The one and only Hunter Novak!”
And there it is.
“Really?” I sneer.
“Yep. Home Run Hunter himself! In fact, he’s the one that recommended you.”
I grit my teeth. “Did he?”
“Said he wouldn’t do the article without you. I guess the two of you are old friends?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Something like that.”
“So, I will meet you at the Downtown Inn tomorrow morning at eleven. I’ll bring all the equipment you need with me. All you have to bring is that wonderful eye of yours and your suitcase. Pack heavy but travel light. We’ll be on the road with the team until September.”
“Okay,” I say, unable to form any other word.
“Bye bye, hun!”
“Yeah. Bye, Trisha.”
I hang up and drop the phone onto the table.
“Who was that?” Rose asks. “What just happened?”
“That…” I stand up and pace on the carpet, reaching up to scratch my head. My fingernails accidentally slide across my bruise and I wince hard at the pain firing down my neck. “That was Trisha Wells.”
“I know that name…” she pauses. “Where do I know that name from?”
“From Sports Illuminated magazine.”
She gasps. “Holy crap.”
“Yeah.”
“What did she want?”
“She wanted to offer me my dream job,” I answer, “at my dream employer. The annual holiday exposé piece. Benefits, per-diem…” I kick a chair leg. “The works!”
“Daisy, that’s awesome!”
“No.” I shake my head. “No. This is very much not awesome, Rose.”
“Why not? What am I missing?”
“Because this year’s exposé is on Hunter Novak, who, apparently, recommended me for the job and won’t do the damn article at all unless I’m involved.”
Rose furrows her brow, thinking hard. “I still don’t see the problem.”
I dig my toes into the floor. “The problem is that I didn’t earn this, Rose.”
“Pfft. Says who?”
“Trisha Wells never would have glanced twice at my portfolio before — but now I’m suddenly first pick for one of the biggest sports articles of the year? It’s bullshit.”
“I don’t know…” She shrugs slowly. “I think it’s kind of sweet.”
“Sweet?”
“Hunter wants to help you,” she says. “This exposé is huge. The fact that he would pass on the opportunity if you weren’t involved says a lot, if you ask me.”
I let out a frustrated sigh. “Who the hell does he think he is? That he can just wave a finger and take over my life? That knocking me up somehow means he owns me? This isn’t okay…”
She frowns. “Daisy, your hormones are all over the place right now. You’re taking a few really wacky leaps in logic here.”
“No, I’m not.” I bolt towards the door and grab my keys.
“Where are you going?”
“I am going…” I charge back to the table for the scrap of paper and my phone, “to the Downtown Inn, Room 2-1-7, to give Hunter Novak a piece of my mind!”
“I do not condone this behavior!”
“Yeah, well, I don’t condone…” I pause with one foot in the hallway, “your face!”
“We have the same face.”
“Shut up!”
I slam the door behind me and rush down the stairs.
Home Run Hunter. More like Broken Nose Hunter when I get through with him.
Chapter 10
Hunter
A knock strikes my door, banging loud.
I instantly sit up on the bed, torn from sleep. Not that I wasn’t jolting awake every three minutes anyway just thinking about how fucked up my day has been.
The knocking continues; a quick, unending tap.
“Open up, asshole!”
I smile and make my way towards the door in nothing but my slacks. Sounds like someone got a call from Trisha Wells.
I pull the door open, instantly drawn to Daisy’s stunning blue eyes. She lowers her closed fist, her chest heaving in and out as she stares up at me.
“Hey, Dais—”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” she asks.
I drop my grin but I pause to admire the adorable pink puffs taking over her cheeks. She fights the obvious urge to gawk at my chest bef
ore shoving past me into the room.
“Would you like to come in?” I ask the empty hallway before pushing the door closed.
“Well?” she asks.
“Well, what?”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” she repeats.
“I thought that was rhetorical.”
“I need to set up some boundaries here.” She holds up a finger. “First, you don’t get to recommend me for jobs.”
“Why not?”
“Because I said so.”
I shake my head. “No. I saw an opportunity to help you and I took it.”
“Second…” She holds up another finger. “You don’t get to decide whether or not I need help.”
“No, you’re right, you do,” I say. “And you walking into that bar six weeks ago was an obvious cry for help.”
She scoffs. “No, it wasn’t.”
“You’re carrying my baby, Daisy,” I say. “I want to help you.”
“I didn’t ask for your help!”
“I got the feeling you never would, so I did what I thought would be best for my child. You’re not the only parent here.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m not taking the job. I don’t need your pity.”
“This isn’t—” I stop, holding back my anger. “You know what, Daisy? You ever think that maybe it’s not a line of text missing from your résumé that’s fucked up your life so much? That maybe it’s just you?”
She scoffs. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me! How many times have you ever asked for help? Or accepted help? How many times have you ever relied on anyone but yourself? Life is a team sport, Daisy. Maybe you’d be better off right now if you weren’t such a stubborn, selfish brat.”
Her jaw drops and she steps back, just barely holding herself up. “Oh, wow…” she says, her eyes glossing over. “That was really hurtful.”
Guilt stabs through my chest. “Christ, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have said that…”
“No, it’s good. I, uh…” She sniffs at the floor. “I really needed to hear that.”
I watch her eyes shake, just waiting to spill over with tears. “Are you sure?”
She nods and her lip trembles. “I kind of liked it.”
I furrow my brow. “What?”
“Hit me again.”
“Hit you?”
She waves her hand, gesturing towards herself over and over again. “Critique me.”
