I flinch, succumbing to post-traumatic stress I didn’t know I had, as a man a few rows ahead raises his gloved hand upward and catches it with no trouble at all.

  Hunter.

  I look at the diamond and there he is, taking his sweet time around the bases as he waves to his beloved fans.

  “Home Run Hunter! Home Run Hunter!”

  I shake my head and smile before raising my camera.

  This never would have happened without Hunter. All of my dreams are coming true. I’m going to travel. I’m going to hang out with athletes. There’s nothing out there that can stop me except…

  I lay a hand on my stomach.

  I can’t travel with a baby. Hell, can I even travel that much while I’m pregnant? Bending and twisting will become a problem the bigger I get. I doubt I could work with a baby. Raising an infant is a full-time gig on its own. If I’m going to keep this dream job, then I’m going to need help. A partner.

  Ugh.

  I’m really gonna have to bring up that relationship talk with Hunter, aren’t I?

  CHAPTER 23

  HUNTER

  Four home runs and a double play.

  I’m not sure which of those was more difficult to pull off, but I did it.

  That double play was insane. Bottom of the ninth, bases loaded — as the cliché goes. Just when I thought I’d let Daisy down by not giving her that double play, the batter whacked that ball straight to second base. It bounced right into my glove and I tapped my foot on my base. Bam, first base runner out. Then, it was just a fast throw toward first base and the batter-runner was out by a fraction of a second. A goddamn double play.

  The game replayed in my head like a movie the entire bus ride back to Chicago. Of course, Trisha was gnawing my ear off the entire time, so Daisy and I never got a moment together to celebrate. Then, the two of them were gone the moment we reached campus, off to the SI offices to drop off equipment and strategize — whatever that means.

  I rush through the locker room, wanting so badly to get out of here. Wanting so badly to get home to Daisy.

  Home. Daisy.

  That feels… nice.

  “Novak, get in here for a minute!”

  I look up from the locker to see Bud waving me down. The head of athletics.

  What’s he doing here?

  He gestures me into the office in the back of the locker room. I follow him inside.

  “Close the door behind ya,” he says, lowering himself into the chair behind the desk.

  Coach Carl stands by, his back leaned against the wall by the door.

  “What’s up?” I ask them.

  “What’s up?” Bud laughs and gawks at Carl. “This guy hits four home runs and he asks us what’s up? You’re what’s up, kid.”

  I chuckle. “I’m just doing my job out there, sir.”

  “And you’re damn good at it. I’d say almost too good, but you’ve never once failed a piss test so what do I know?”

  I glance between them, waiting on twitching toes. The question was obviously rhetorical, but he stares at me as if waiting for an answer. “Thank you,” I say.

  “And thank you,” he says.

  I wait for more. He just stares. Carl, too.

  “Okay,” I say.

  “You’re on a lot of minds right now, Novak. It’s Home Run Hunter this. Home Run Hunter that. I’ve never seen anything like it at Chicago North — not since Cary Pierce graced these halls. That makes me proud, but I’m also a little nervous considering how quickly he ditched his contract.”

  I squint. “I’m not sure what you mean by that, sir.”

  “No one’s called you?”

  “No.”

  “No one’s approached you?”

  “No.”

  “No one’s made you an offer?” he asks. “That little reporter hasn’t whispered anything in your ear?”

  “… No.”

  He exhales, relieved. Even Carl shifts on his feet a bit.

  “I want to make a deal with you, Hunter,” Bud says, leaning forward. “Before someone waves money in your face — and someone will. Very soon.”

  I nod, tingling at the thought. “All right.”

  “You’re a senior. You’re over twenty-one. There’s nothing technically keeping you from accepting a contract to-day, hopping on a plane, and leaving the Bearhawks behind — if that’s what you want to do. All I’m asking is that you don’t. Not yet. You’re filling stadiums wherever you go. The college baseball gods want that to continue. You’re a very lucrative asset to this university, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least ask for your loyalty.”

  I take a breath. “You guys think I’m going to drop out?”

  “You could.”

  “A month before graduation?”

  “Stranger things have happened, especially when good money is involved. The Bearhawks are on track to make it to the championship in Omaha. We want you there wearing blue and gold.”

  I smile. I want to be there, too. “I’m not going anywhere, sir.”

  “No?”

  “I promised my mother I’d get a degree. It means a lot to her to see me walk.”

  “Then you’re staying on?”

  “I’m a Northie,” I say with a shrug. “I won’t abandon my team.”

  Bud laughs. “That’s what I wanted to hear.” He slaps the desk with his palm as he stands. “You’re a good sport, Hunter.”

  Coach shrugs. “I told you he would be.”

  A good sport. I’ve worked years for this opportunity, and the end is in sight. I can wait a little longer. No problem.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “You just keep hitting homers out there,” Bud says, pointing that finger at me. “By the end of the semester, the sky will be the limited on your price, Novak. Guaranteed. But stay focused.”

  “I will.”

  “Limit distractions. That might be difficult with that redhead following you around, but we can always put an end to that. Just say the word and she’s out.”

  I pause. Putting an end to the article would mean firing Daisy, too. “No.” I shake my head. “Ms. Wells isn’t a distraction, sir. She can stay.”

  “All right.” A smile crawls across his face. “Get on out of here. Go celebrate.”

  “Yes, sir,” I say, turning around.

  “But not too hard. You still need good grades to graduate.”

  “Of course.”

  It’s all happening. Everything I’ve worked for. Every practice swing. Every step I’ve taken has finally paid off. The major leagues want me. I’m going to be a household name.

  It never would have happened if I hadn’t had met her.

  Daisy pushed me to be better. I’ve worked harder because I wanted to make her happy. Whenever I swing, I picture her smile. I feel the crack of the bat and I know she’s out there. Not the scouts or the fans. Just her and those little blue eyes peeking up at me with pride and love.

  Love. There’s that word again.

  But how do I know this is real? How do I know my feelings are genuine and not just the work of the universe tricking me and Daisy together? Or am I tricking myself into feeling it because there’s a baby involved — one that I’m responsible for? Is there even a difference? Will my feelings eventually fade like an old worn-out baseball?

  I leave the office and reach for my phone in my pocket. Instinct drives me to tell her about today, about the scouts and everything, but I stop myself. Before I do that, I want to know for sure.

  Is this love? Or something else?

  I check my messages. One unread. From Daisy.

  We need to talk.

  Uh-oh.

  That’s a bad thing, right? A girl doesn’t send the we need to talk message unless shit is going down. Did I do something wrong? I couldn’t have. Not in the time since the game and the long drive back. That’d be some kind of record.

  I send a reply, writing it out and changing it a half dozen times until I finally land on this: k

  “Daisy?”

  I poke my head through her open doorway. There she is, zigzagging around her room as she unpacks her things, music humming softly from the buds in her ears. She doesn’t notice me at first. I watch her as she tosses her clothes around, some falling into the hamper while others tumble to the floor in a silent clump.

  What an adorable slob.

  She twists to the side, and my gaze falls to her belly. Not obvious, like Dennis said. But it’s there if you’re looking for it.

  “Daisy.”

  I wave to get her attention. She looks up and smiles, quickly yanking the buds out of her ears. “Hey,” she says.

  “Hi.”

  “Come on in,” she says as she grabs a notebook off the bed and fans herself with it. “Is there something wrong with the AC?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “So warm.”

  “Feels comfortable to me.”

  She scoffs before dumping out the last of her suitcase on the bed. “I guess that’s another lame pregnancy thing. I’m either too hot or too cold. There is no in-between.”

  I study her face. She’s barely looked at me. “Daisy, are you okay?” I ask.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “You said we needed to talk. The text.”

  Finally, she halts and looks up. “Oh, right. Yeah.”

  “Did you forget?”

  “No, no. I just, uh…”

  “Sorry we couldn’t talk on the bus,” I say. “Trisha was a little excited after the game.”

  “And who could blame her?” She chuckles. “You really kicked ass out there.”

  “That’s what I keep hearing.” I clear my throat, eager to quit stalling. “So, what did we have to talk about? Is everything all right with the baby?”

  “Oh, yeah. Yeah. That I know of, anyway.”

  “That you know of?”

  “That’s actually the best possible segue you could have given me, so thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Daisy sits on the bed and pats the empty edge beside her.

  My gut clenches, but I do as she asks.

  After a moment, she exhales. “So, I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. With Dr. Jones. You remember her, she’s the one who did the ultrasound last month— actually, no.” She pinches her eyes closed. “You weren’t there. You didn’t go to that.”

  “You told me not to.”

  “Right.” She pauses, her breath held tight. “Would you like to go with me this time?”

  Her posture stiffens, waiting on needles for my reply.

  This was it. This was all she needed to tell me.

  Her blue eyes shake, withholding a fear of what I’ll say. It’s adorable yet illuminating. I don’t want Daisy to ever be scared to talk to me, especially not about something like this.

  I smile. “Of course.”

  She exhales. “Yeah?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  Her shoulders bounce. “I don’t know. I just thought that maybe you had enough going on with classes. Finals coming up. Games to be played.” She laughs. “It’s stupid now that I think about it.”

  “When is the appointment?”

  “Eleven.”

  I squint. “I have class, but I’ll skip it.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” she says quickly. “I can go alone. You shouldn’t—”

  “I’m going to skip it, Daisy.”

  “Hunter—”

  “I’m going with you,” I say, making her stop. “It’s more important.”

  Daisy breathes out slowly. “Okay.”

  I push her hair back from her eyes. “We’ll go together, get you checked out — both of you — and then tomorrow night, we’ll have dinner.”

  She raises a brow. “Oh?”

  “We’ll order in. Get some Chinese food if the baby is in the mood.”

  “It might be.”

  I wrap an arm around her waist and tug her closer to me. “How does that sound?” I ask in a whisper.

  She licks her lips. “It sounds great.”

  I kiss her, soft and sweet. My hands roam her body — not that I could stop them if I tried. They’re drawn to her like magnets, always have been.

  She tenses and presses her lips together, pausing as if she wants to say something else, but she stays quiet.

  “Was there something else you wanted to talk about?” I ask her.

  Daisy chews on her cheek and shakes her head. “No.”

  “You sure?”

  She eases back, her fingers pinching my zipper. “I’m sure,” she whispers.

  I’m not sure I believe her, but I’m not about to stop her, either.

  We lie back together and I forget I had something I needed to tell her, too.

  CHAPTER 24

  DAISY

  The waiting room to Dr. Jones’ office is right out of a sitcom.

  Three-month-old magazines sit in thick piles on each corner table. Rows of abused chairs line the walls. Posters of growing bellies tell me what I should expect and when. And to think I could have gone my entire life without knowing what lanugo is.

  Hunter snatched the first Sports Illuminated he could find and has had his face buried in it since the moment we sat down. Me? I can’t stop staring at the woman across the lobby. She’s huge — going on month eight if the poster above me is to be believed — and she’s wrestling with two other kids at her ankles.

  “Bobby, don’t do that. Give it back to your brother. Peter, knock that off. Put it down.”

  Hunter doesn’t even look up from the magazine.

  “Don’t throw that, Bobby. Ugh!”

  A small ball bounces across the lobby and taps against Hunter’s foot. He finally looks up and leans down to grab it as Bobby rushes toward us to retrieve it.

  Hunter smiles at the little baseball in his hand and holds it out on his fingertips.

  The child stops in front of him, hesitant to take it, so Hunter pushes it a little closer.

  They maintain eye contact with each other, never flinching with fear or impatience. I wonder if the kid recognizes him, but that can’t be it. It’s almost as if they just… understand each other without having to say a word.

  Bobby grabs the ball and takes off back to his mother.

  Hunter looks at me and shrugs. “Kids.”

  I turn forward and sigh.

  “Daisy?” A young woman in pink scrubs pokes her head out of an open doorway and waves at us. “Come on back!”

  I stand up to follow her and Hunter does the same, staying a step behind me the whole time. I glance over my shoulder at him and notice him throw a quick wave to the little boys across the room before we disappear into the hallway.

  “I’m Stacy,” our guide coos. “I’m just going to take a few stats from you and then we’ll toss you into the ultrasound room where you’ll get to know your baby a little more! Is this your first ultrasound? No, month six, surely you’ve had at least one or two!”

  I stay a few paces away from her peppy stride. “Yeah, I—”

  “God, I love ultrasounds!” she says, spinning around. She halts so fast I nearly trip with the change in momentum. “Okay, hop up on the scale for me, Daisy. Daisy, I just love that name!”

  I step on and Stacy slides out the piece to measure my height.

  “And you must be Hunter.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he says.

  “Such adorable names in your family!”

  He and I look at each other.

  Family.

  “Well, if you think that’s adorable,” I say, thinking fast, “I have a twin sister named Rose.”

  Stacy’s mouth drops. “Oh, my gosh! No pressure or anything, but this baby needs a name to top that.”

  She slides the scale so quickly I miss the numbers. Good. I don’t really want to know what my weight is right now.

  “So, second trimester, huh?” she says.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  She squeals softly. “That’s when the magic happens.”

  “Magic?”

  “Your baby grows and moves around in there.” She whips a string of measuring tape out of her pocket and slides it around my waist. “Some women say it doesn’t even become real until then.”

  I let out a soft chuckle, then go quiet. Other than a few rushes to the bathroom to spew, I haven’t felt anything at all.

  Is that bad?

  “Just wait until you get your bump,” she says, giggling. “You’re gonna look so cute!”

  “Uh-huh,” I mutter.

  “How long have you two been married?”

  My head swivels toward Hunter. “Oh, no. We’re not… not married.”

  She continues on, jotting down a note on her clipboard. “Have you talked adorable names yet?”

  Again, another glance at Hunter. His eyes shift in his skull before finally bolting to the floor.

  “No,” I answer.

  “Are you guys hoping for a boy or a girl?”

  I don’t look at him. “We haven’t talked about that yet, either.”

  Stacy grins. “Have you two met each other?”

  We laugh, awkwardly.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  She shrugs her little shoulders. “Well, there’s still plenty of time for that stuff. For now, just enjoy it! Pregnancy is beautiful! Come on.” She twists around again. “Let’s draw some blood!”

  She somehow seems more eager to do that than anything else.

  I linger behind with Hunter. “Would you judge me if I escaped out the bathroom window?” I ask him.

  He smiles and nudges my arm, pushing me to follow her down the hall.

  Luckily, Stacy’s pep hasn’t rubbed off on Dr. Amanda Jones.

  I liked her the moment I met her. Dr. Jones is tough with broad shoulders, but warm with soft, comforting eyes — not unlike Hunter, come to think of it. Her office is bare, but it serves its purpose. Numerous degrees and certifications line the walls, along with several photos of her in her younger years wearing U.S. Army fatigues, which just makes one thing perfectly clear: She’s seen some shit.

  “Good to see you again, Daisy.” She pulls her brunette hair back into a ponytail. “And Hunter,” she adds. “Welcome to the show. We missed you last time.”