Page 66 of Third Strike Smitten

Fuck.

What have I done?

Oh shit.

I hit her.

Fuck!

“Isla?”

Oh God.

My stomach drops through the earth as I sprint toward the mound, my heart hammering so fucking hard against my ribs. The plastic ball, so light, so harmless, rolls in the dirt away from where she’s sitting, hands still pressed against her face. I slide quickly into the space beside her, my leg kicking up dust and my heart thudding so loudly I can barely hear anything else.

“Isla, fuck, I’m so sorry,” I stammer, reaching for her but not knowing where to put my hands. “Can I…can I see?” I ask gently, framing her face in my hands. “Fuck. Isla, let me see. Please.”

She lowers her hands slowly, and my stomach lurches at the sight. Blood is already streaming from her nose, bright red against her fair skin, dripping onto the front of her shirt. Her left eye is watering, and her cheek is starting to swell, the pattern of the ball imprinted on her skin.

“Jesus Christ,” I fret, pulling my shirt off to press against her nose. “I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean to…I shouldn’t have swung so hard. I’m such an idiot.”

She blinks up at me, her voice muffled slightly by my shirt when she says, “Well...that was an unexpected surprise.”

Even now, even with blood running down her face and tears in her eyes, she’s trying to make a joke. Something lodges itself in my throat. Feelings I don’t know how to handle.

“Don’t move,” I tell her, keeping pressure on her nose. “Just stay still.”

The game stops completely. Shepherd and Bishop are already jogging over, and Sebastian is in full trainer mode, crouching beside her, checking her pupils with the flashlight on his phone.

“Look at my finger,” Seb orders, holding it up. “Follow it with your eyes.”

“You guys, I’m fine,” Isla insists, though the blood running down her chin says otherwise.

Mackenzie kneels on the other side of Sebastian, already pulling supplies from a first aid kit I didn’t even know he had with him.

“Don’t move your head too much,” I emphasize. “Is your vision blurry?”

“It was a whiffle ball, guys. It’s not a concussion,” Isla tries to joke, but her voice is shaky.

Fuck…she’s hurting and it’s all my fault.

Sutton appears with ice wrapped in a towel. “Here, press this against your nose.”

I can’t stop staring at her, watching the blood soak through my shirt, my heart still pounding. I’m so fucking helpless in the moment while Sebastian does his thing. I can’t stop apologizing, the words tumbling out of me like I’m trying to fill the silence with something, anything other than the sound of my own panic.

“I’m so sorry, Isla. I’m so…fuck.” I whip off my hat and push my hands through my sweat-soaked hair. “I should have controlled my swing. I should have⁠—”

“Killian.” Her voice cuts through my impending spiral, steadier than I expect as her hand connects with mine. She squeezes to let me know she hears me. “It’s okay. Really. I’m okay.”

“It’s not okay.” My voice cracks embarrassingly. “You’re bleeding…because of me.”

“It was a whiffle ball, not a grenade.” She tries to smile, but winces when the ice touches her swelling nose.

“Pupils look normal,” Sebastian reports, his voice tight with concern. “No signs of a concussion but it’s possible her nose might be broken.”

“Broken?” My stomach drops. “Fuck. I broke her nose?”

“You didn’t break my nose,” Isla insists, gently pushing my hand away from her face. “It’s just a little swollen.”