Curveball

by Jillian Quinn

  When we walk into his room, Mark has a cast on his right arm and bruises and cuts on his face—some of them closed over with tiny bandages while others are left open and looking raw—as a nurse finishes with his sutures. She places instruments on a metal table next to her, but Victoria practically lunges herself at Mark, hovering over his bed.

  “My baby,” she says as she reaches out to touch his hand.

  “Please stand back,” the nurse scolds, giving Victoria a look so sharp, it could cut through glass. “You can see him when I am finished.”

  Luca grips Victoria by her skinny biceps and helps her into a chair near the door. For someone who was such a bad mother to Mark, her sudden outbursts shock me. And Luca seems just as irritated with her behavior as Sammy is, who sits next to her mother with a scowl.

  The nurse threads the last stitch on Mark’s handsome but now scratched up face and then tucks the blankets into the sides of his bed before rolling the metal cart she used for the sutures to the opposite side of the room.

  “He’s all yours,” the nurse says to Victoria with a wave of her hand.

  Now that I have a better view of Mark, I feel sick to my stomach, seeing how bad his face looks with all the stitches and bandages. His mother leans down to kiss his forehead, his sister standing next to her and holding on to the metal rail on his bed. A few minutes pass with his mother whispering things to him, almost falling over the rail as she leans into his ear. It’s not until she switches places with Sammy and she takes Mark’s hand in hers that I finally see some movement.

  His sun rises and sets with that girl, which is why I’m not the least bit surprised when his eyes flutter a little as she rubs her thumb on his skin. She softly tells him that she’s here and to wake up because she needs him and can’t do this without him. From her sweet gesture, tears well up in my bottom lids, and when I see Mark open his eyes for the first time, my heart leaps from my chest.

  “Sammy,” he says, a flicker of concern in his eyes, “where am I?”

  “You’re in the hospital. There was a car accident.”

  He scans the room for a few seconds before he looks down at his gown, his eyes widening in shock when he sees the tubes coming from his body and the cast on his right arm. The pain on his face rips me to shreds. I want to be the one to comfort him, the one to take away his pain.

  Mark still hasn’t noticed me and turns his head to the side, facing the exterior wall with his back turned to us. It didn’t take him long to realize his season is finished and that his career is most likely over. His car was also totaled in the wreck, and he loved his Mustang more than anything.

  “Mark, baby,” his mother says, “it will all work out. We’re here for you.”

  He turns over, his face twisted in anger, the blush spreading to his cheeks. “You have never been there for me.” His hateful words are like venom. “If you had been a better mother, I never would have done the things I did to support you and Sammy. I wouldn’t be lying here in this bed, unable to sit up without being in pain. Just go!”

  Mark rolls over, dismissing his mother.

  “C’mon, bro,” Luca says to Mark as he comes around to the other side of the bed, so they are facing each other. “Don’t be so hard on your mom. She’s right about one thing. We are all here for you. You have your family. Our brothers are here, pounding beers in the parking lot, and so are your coach and the team. Olivia is here, too.”

  “Where is she?”

  Luca points behind Mark and to me. “On the other side of the room, dumbass.”

  Taking that as my cue, I walk over to where Luca is standing and take Mark’s hand in mine.

  He runs his fingers along my skin, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. “Get in here with me,” he orders, scooting back until his back hits the rail on the other side of the bed, making room for me.

  “Mark, you have broken ribs. Lying in such an uncomfortable position will not help them heal.”

  “Can I have some time with my girl?” Mark says to Luca. “Take my mom and sister down to the cafeteria or something.” He winks.

  The corner of Luca’s mouth turns up into a devious grin. “Sure. I got you, bro.” He walks away, telling Sammy and Victoria to follow behind him, commanding a presence.

  “Shut the door, lock it, and hop in bed,” Mark says as he flattens onto his back.

  I do as he instructed and then climb into bed with him, trying my best not to hurt him when I accidentally brush up against his broken ribs.

  “How do you feel?” I place my hands on the sides of his face, our eyes locked. “You scared me to death when the call got disconnected, and then I found out hours later that you had been in an accident. Your injuries aren’t bad—at least, not anything fatal—but—”

  “I won’t play ball again.” He glances down at the cast, his pain over the loss of his career evident in his eyes.

  “It’s possible that you will just not play this year. The season will be over by the time your arm heals.”

  Before I can speak another word, his lips crash against mine. He kisses me softly, telling me how much he loves me with his mouth. Taking my breast in his left hand, he massages it over my shirt, and in this uncomfortable position, that takes some skill with the weird angle and Mark only having one free arm.

  He peels back the bedsheets and pushes them to the bottom with his foot, revealing a massive erection that tents his hospital gown.

  “You’re hard,” I say, more confused than anything, especially after him having surgery.

  “My arm is broken.” He lifts the gown, and my ovaries do a happy dance as I stare at his perfect cock, my mouth wide open, as I’m already thinking about how much I’ve missed having him inside me. “But my dick still works in case you’re wondering, and it’s not going to suck itself.”

  I laugh because at least his sense of humor has remained intact. I give him a few strokes before I scoot down to take him in my mouth. He groans and moves his hand to the back of my head, damn near choking me with his dick.

  I was worried that he would resent all the people who were around before his accident, myself included, once he figured out that his professional career was over. Instead, he has taken the news unusually well, which strikes me as odd. He’s still in shock. Once it fully sinks in, he will need support, and I want to be the one to give it to him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mark

  Fact: My life is fucking over. My career is fucking over. My car is totaled, nothing more than a giant heap of fiberglass and metal. Racing is fucking over. Everything I’ve ever loved is gone, taken from me in a split second.

  I knew racing was dangerous, and I knew the risks associated with taking money from the Long Island Lowriders. But I couldn’t give up on the easy money, not when I was so used to making bank off the bookmaking I did with Luca and Hunter.

  Olivia insisted she take care of me since going back to my fraternity house and having to walk all those steps with my injuries wasn’t such a great idea. At least it’s quiet here, and I have someone to do the little things for me, like make dinner and wash my clothes. After all the years of depending on myself, I hate that I have to force this upon my girl.

  I don’t want to be a burden on her or anyone else. Now that my shot at the majors has gone down the tubes along with the income from racing I needed to support my family, I feel useless.

  What good am I if I can’t support the women in my life?

  That’s all I’ve ever done and for as long as I can remember.

  Olivia’s apartment has an open-floor plan, and from the living room, I can watch as she makes lunch for Luca and me while we watch the Flyers game on the huge flat screen I had Luca bring over from the bedroom in my fraternity house. My girl almost never turns on her TV. The one she had in the living room was so small, I thought it was a computer monitor.

  “I got the cable all hooked up,” Luca says after he finishes adjusting the TV and plops down on the microfiber couch next to me. “You sh
ould get all the premium sports channels now that I rigged it.”

  I had sex with Olivia on this very spot on the couch right before Luca came over, which makes me grin like a fucking idiot as I think about her sweet pussy while she bends over to put the wings in the oven.

  “Mario and Anthony are going to take care of the problem,” Luca mutters under his breath, checking to make sure Olivia cannot hear. “You’re family, and we take care of our own.”

  His entire family visited me in the hospital before they discharged me a few days ago. Even Luca’s father came to see me, and he rarely leaves the villa in New Jersey where he runs his criminal empire. Luca’s older brothers, Anthony and Mario, are twins who also work for their father. So, when Luca says they are fixing the problem, what they have in mind will probably end up on the six o’clock news.

  I lean back against the couch with my legs propped up on the coffee table. “Good. Those fucking bastards deserve worse than death for what they did to me.”

  He nods and lifts his beer from the table to take a sip. “You’ll have another chance, you know. After your arm heals and you do the rehab and conditioning, you can go back to that scout and see if he’ll give you another shot.”

  I hold up the cast on my right arm, frowning. “What if the break doesn’t heal right? The doctor said there’s a chance it will never feel the same again. I need full range of motion to pitch. If I played any other position, I’d be a little more optimistic. And, once I graduate, people will forget about me. I’ll just be another washed-up college athlete who had a chance and blew it.”

  “At least it’s not your shoulder. That would have been far worse. And you didn’t blow anything. You’ve been a fighter since we were kids.” He chugs down half of his beer and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before setting the bottle on the table. “We’re hustlers. Always have been and probably always will be. We didn’t grow up like some of the guys in our house. And you’re not fucking giving up, you got that? I will not let you.”

  For days, I’ve been depressed about my career, or lack thereof, but Luca always knows what to say when I need someone to beat some sense into me.

  Olivia walks out of the kitchen with a plate of hot wings and two more beers. “I hope you guys are hungry.” Her tits jiggle as she sets the plate and bottles on the table in front of us, giving me a show.

  “I’m always hungry for you, baby,” I say, licking my lips.

  She rolls her eyes, the blush already spreading to her cheeks. “You have company. Behave yourself. I’ll be in my office, grading papers.”

  I forget she’s still my teacher—until she reminds me that I have to study for a quiz or do my homework. Then, I remember she’s older and bossy as fuck, but I like it when she orders me around since I do it so often in the bedroom. If my ribs didn’t hurt so damn bad and if my arm wasn’t broken, I’d throw her over my shoulder and take her into the bedroom.

  “I never behave,” I shoot back, winking. “I guess you’ll have to punish me for it later.”

  Shaking her head with a wide grin lighting up her beautiful face, she walks away. “Enjoy the game, boys.”

  Luca taps me on my good arm, speaking under his breath, “I still can’t believe you’re dating our professor…and that you have a legit girlfriend. I never thought you’d settle down with anyone.”

  Staring at Olivia’s ass before she turns into the office down the hall, I smile. “Me either, but she’s a keeper.”

  The headaches and nausea from my concussion might be worse than my broken ribs and arm. Add puking my guts out to the list of my least favorite things to do because this sucks balls.

  Olivia sits on the bathtub ledge while I hang over the toilet for the fourth time today, dry-heaving. This has been my life for the past week. Some days, I have no desire to leave the bed, and if not for the constant spins and vomiting my meals every hour, I would crawl under the covers and wish for death. I made a horrible decision to help the people I love, and that decision has cost me everything.

  Olivia rubs my back and hands me a towel to wipe my mouth. “It will get worse before it gets better. That’s what the doctor said.”

  I close the toilet lid and sit on top of it, clutching the towel in my hand. Still slightly dizzy, I’m afraid I might barf again at any moment. “I know. It’s just…”

  She reaches out and places her hand over mine, her gaze intense and strong. “I will help you. All you need is a little time to heal.”

  “I hate that you have to see me being so weak…so vulnerable.” I turn my head, looking down at the tiled floor, ashamed. “I’m the man. I should be taking care of you, not the other way around.”

  Olivia lifts my chin with her index finger, so our eyes meet. “You think that’s the way it should be because it’s the only thing you’ve ever known, but I want to take care of you. As your girlfriend, that is my job. If I were sick, you would be sitting with me right now, holding my hair so that I wouldn’t get throw-up on it. You would make me soup and tuck me into bed. I know you would do those things for me because you are a good person, and you care about people.

  “Don’t be afraid to let me help you. The front you put on for your family and friends might be what they need, but you can be yourself with me. I love the dirty-talker, the frat boy, the sexy baseball player, the man who provides for his family, the smart guy who pretends to be stupid around his friends. I love everything about you, Mark. This”—she squeezes my hand tight—“is what we do for each other. We take care of each other. Understand?”

  “I love you,” I say aloud. I’m shocked because, even though I love the shit out of this woman, I have never said those words to a girl.

  My life was all about one-night stands, binge-drinking with my frat brothers, and playing baseball before she fell off the bar at Club Rave and into my arms.

  She caresses my cheek, and her fingers travel slowly down my jaw. “I love you, too, Mark. We will get through this together. I have faith in you. You will play baseball again. I am sure of it.”

  “I hope you’re right.” My voice lacks any confidence. “Because I don’t share your same enthusiasm. It’s hard to even put into words how I feel about this. In one night, I lost everything.”

  “No, you didn’t.” Now, she sounds as though she might cry. “You still have me, your family, and your friends. You are graduating from college with honors. Your life is only beginning, Mark. It’s not over. You can do this. I know that for a fact. By the time you graduate, you can start over, and once you’re back in shape, you can try out for the majors. They would be stupid not to want you.”

  “I feel useless right now. Don’t you get that? I can’t do simple things. My mother and sister need me to keep the roof over their heads, and I can’t even take off my shirt without screaming or needing another pain pill. I just…” I turn away from her because I hate that she has to see me this way. I hate that I feel broken.

  “I’m here, Mark. I love you, and I am not going anywhere.”

  After two weeks of moping around and lounging on the couch, Olivia dragged me out of the house for my doctor’s appointment. As I sit on the table in the exam room, she waits next to me, holding my hand and sucking in deep breaths, probably more nervous than I am about my prognosis.

  The first ten days after the accident were rough with having to deal with the concussion. I puked so much, the doctor had to prescribe me nausea medication that helped until the symptoms lessened. My ribs still hurt like a motherfucker. Every time I breathe or move, I swear, something tears inside me.

  On the plus side, Olivia has been taking charge in the bedroom, and I am really starting to like it after always being in control.

  “Your cognitive function looks good,” Dr. Bryant says, holding a light up to my eye. “You’ve really lucked out. The fact that you survived the crash and with so few injuries is incredible. Someone must have been watching over you that night. Just make sure you don’t do any strenuous activity until your ribs are heal
ed.”

  I flash a wicked grin at Olivia, thinking of what we did before we left the house, and she blushes.

  “Your ribs should heal on their own over the next eight to ten weeks. I’d like to see you back here in two weeks for an X-ray of your arm. We should be able to remove the cast sometime in the next month.”

  Olivia lets out the breath she was holding the entire time. “That’s great news.” She turns to me and kisses me on the cheek. “You’ll be pitching again in no time, baby.”

  “I doubt it. The season will be over, and I will have already graduated by the time I can throw a ball.”

  I wish I could be as positive as everyone else is about my career, but right now, I still feel like my life is over.

  “I’d say baseball this year is unlikely, given the amount of time it will take for you to heal and get back into shape,” Dr. Bryant says, his tone firm. “I wish I had better news.” He picks up my chart from the table and tucks it under his arm. “I’ll let my staff know you need another appointment. Do you have any questions?”

  “No.” I shake my head and reach out with my left hand to shake his hand, which still feels weird. “Thanks, Doc.”

  Learning how to do things with my other hand has not been easy. I dropped the spoon in my soup bowl the first night I tried to eat with my left hand. Using a fork and taking notes in class were not any easier. The only things I can do right are change the channels on the TV remote and finger Olivia’s pussy. But, even if I broke every bone in my body, I would still find a way to take care of my girl.

  The doctor leaves and closes the door to allow me to change back into my clothes. I slide off the table, and Olivia stands, tugging at the bottom of this stupid gown.

  “I’ll do it for you.” She helps me lift it over my head without hurting my ribs or arm too much, and she shoves it into the trash can.