Page 67 of Third Strike Smitten

Sebastian shakes his head. “Hard to tell without further inspection. I could take you to the stadium and check it out if you⁠—”

“I’m fine,” she repeats, more firmly this time. I admire the way she’s trying to be brave when she’s clearly hurting.

Fuck, I should’ve known better.

Why couldn’t I have been more careful?

“I’m driving you home,” I say, my voice firmer than I feel.

Isla opens her mouth to argue, but Sebastian cuts her off. “That’s actually not a bad idea. You shouldn’t be alone tonight, just in case.”

“I won’t be alone,” she protests. “Tara’s here.”

Tara steps forward, her face pale with concern. “Actually, I have a flight tonight. I…I picked up an extra shift and have to be out at ten thirty. I’m so sorry, Isla.”

“It’s fine. She’s staying with me.” The words come out before I even realize what I’m saying. Isla’s eyes widen slightly at my offer and I know what she’s thinking. We’re not really a thing so staying at my house is uncalled for, but I don’t give a shit about that right now.

“Killian, you don’t have to—” Isla starts, but I cut her off.

“I’m not leaving you alone tonight. End of discussion.” My voice comes out harsher than I intend, but I can’t help it. The image of her bleeding on the ground is burned into my brain, and I need to make sure she’s okay. “Please, Isla. Please just stay with me.”

“Oh, there are your manners,” she says flatly before she nods her approval. “Okay. I’ll stay with you.”

“Let me help you up,” I say, offering my hand.

She takes it, and I’m struck by how small her hand feels in mine. How fragile she seems, even though I know she’s anything but. I pull her to her feet gently, keeping my arm around her waist for support.

“You guys, I really am fine,” she insists, but she leans into me slightly, betraying her words. “Hmm. Maybe just a little dizzy.”

Sebastian steps closer, his face serious. “That’s exactly why someone needs to keep an eye on you tonight. If you start feeling nauseous or if your vision gets worse, you need to go to the emergency room.”

When she leans into me, I lower my hand under her knees and lift her into my arms. “I’ve got you, Coach. Just keep the ice on that nose for me, okay?”

“I’m sorry, everyone,” she says meekly to those around us. “I guess I’m going to have to call it. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t you worry one lick about us, Isla,” Sutton reassures her. “These guys are big boys. They can take it.”

Carter pats her foot. “Yeah, Fallon. You make this guy meet your every need, alright?”

“Thanks, guys. I’ll see you Monday on the plane.” She waves and I turn and carry her toward Diane. Her face is pressed against my bare chest, and I can feel her warm breath against my skin. My heart is still racing, guilt and concern swirling in my gut.

“I can walk, you know,” she mumbles against my chest.

“Probably,” I agree, tightening my hold. “But I’m not letting you.”

When we reach the car, I carefully set her down, keeping one arm around her waist for support. Tara opens the passenger door and I help her in, making sure she’s comfortable before letting go. I pull the seatbelt over her lap and click it in place.

“Thank you, Kill.” Her voice is the softest whisper and I swear to God my heart just fucking cracked wide open in my chest.

That’s the first time she’s ever called me “Kill”.

14

ISLA

Getting hit in the face with a whiffle ball hurts way more than you’d expect from something that weighs about as much as a cotton ball.

I press Killian’s shirt harder against my nose as Diane rumbles beneath us, the streetlights painting stripes across the dashboard in rhythmic, hypnotic intervals. My head is throbbing in time with my heartbeat, and the swelling above my cheekbone has already begun to feel like a small, angry animal trying to escape my face.