“Are you Brandon Jeffers?”

Liv and I both turn to look at the voice behind us before we step into the elevator. A young woman is standing there, wearing dark blue scrubs with her hair tied back in a smooth ponytail. A stethoscope is draped around her neck, and I’m half-temped to ask if she needs me to use it on her to check for a heartbeat because the look on her face is downright comical. She makes no bones about blatantly staring at me in shock, her mouth formed into a perfect O when she gets a better look at my face, confirming that I am, in fact, who she thinks I am.

“Guilty,” I say with a smile, hoping this won’t delay us too long. I’ve got a flight to catch in a couple of hours, and I’d rather not spend that time here with some random fangirl than with my woman.

“Oh my goodness. My husband is going to be so upset he wasn’t here to meet you. He’s a huge baseball fan. Generally, he roots for the Smoke, but he loves watching you guys, too. You and Ian Taggart are his favorite players. And he says that new pitcher of yours is someone to watch out for.”

I nod. “Thank you. Carter is something special; that’s for sure. I’ll be sure to pass along the message that we’ve got fans here in Grover. Is there, uh, something you’d like me to sign?”

The woman’s face lights up, and she frantically starts looking around the nurses’ station for something I can scribble my John Hancock on. Coming up empty, she grabs a coffee mug from the station beside hers, dumping its contents in the trash beneath her before thrusting it at me.

“I’ll just have to pay Kathy back for the mug,” she says sheepishly when she sees my quizzical look.

I chuckle. “Messing with a nurse’s coffee sounds like a pretty serious offense.”

Her head bobs up and down on her shoulders. “Oh, believe me, it is. But not getting Brandon Jeffers’s autograph would be much worse. My husband would string me up by my toes.”

I think about giving her a hard time, ribbing her about violating HIPAA laws and ask if she’d really risk losing her job to tell her husband she saw me here today. But, in the interest of saving time, I refrain, instead signing the mug—apparently, I’m now the World’s Best Mom—before giving it to her and letting her snap a selfie. Once she’s placated, I turn back to Liv, who watched our entire exchange with a wide grin on her face, and usher her toward the elevator.

“I can’t take you anywhere, can I?” she muses, beaming up at me as I hit the button for the main level.

Since Liv came back from Seattle a few days early, I insisted we call and see if we could bump her follow-up appointment with her OB/GYN to today, so I could go with her before I had to head back out on the road. The office was all-too accommodating—a fact I am grateful for even if it is probably only because of who I am.

Everything with Liv and the baby looks great, no further evidence of bleeding or any other complications after our little scare before we left for Seattle. Hopefully, now, I’ll be able to rest easy and focus on the next few games before us instead of worrying about Liv back here, in Maple Lake.

Oh, who am I kidding? I’m going to worry regardless. But at least this makes me feel slightly better about leaving.

“Hazards of the trade, I’m afraid. Better get used to it, baby. You’re just lucky she didn’t try to grab my ass,” I add on a playful note.

Liv’s jaw sets. “I’d like to see her try.”

A laugh escapes my lips, and I put my arm around her shoulders, tucking her into my side before placing a kiss on the top of her head. “Oh, I like it when my Liv gets territorial. Shall we go back up and see what happens? I hear pissing a circle around what’s yours helps keep away unwanted advances.”

Liv’s arm snakes out and circles my waist. “Not much longer, and I won’t have to worry about peeing around you. Everybody will be able to see the evidence right here under my shirt.” She places a hand on her stomach, the tiniest bump finally beginning to form.

I made the mistake of pointing it out to her last night after we finished making love. I meant it as a compliment, loving that she was finally starting to show. She immediately pulled on a shirt, however, her arms folding in front of her stomach, as if wanting to hide it.

I know she’s self-conscious about the way her body is changing. But, to me, she couldn’t be more gorgeous.

I place my hand over hers, sliding it so that the thin fabric of her blouse rises ever-so slightly. I tickle my fingers against her bare skin, loving the feel of the goose bumps my touch leaves behind.

“And every single person will see the same thing I do—the most beautiful woman this world has ever seen. And they’ll know you chose me, that bump right there under your shirt the only evidence they need to know I’m yours.”

Her neck cranes as she stretches over to kiss me. We’re interrupted entirely too soon by the dinging of the elevator though, forced to exit its quiet solitude and enter the real world once again.

My heart aches a little as we head toward my truck, knowing that, in only a few hours, I’m going to have to leave her again.

I love baseball. It’s been my life, my world, and my entire reason for living for pretty much my whole life. I never thought I’d find something that meant as much to me as baseball.

But Liv Hunter…

She means everything.

Fucking Jayne.

I take off my helmet, throwing it into the dugout ahead of me before stomping down and plopping my pathetic ass down on the bench.

I just struck out. For the first time in years. And it’s all fucking Jayne’s fault.

Just before I headed out onto the field, my cell vibrated in my locker. Normally, I’d ignore a message that close to game time. But, after Liv’s previous scare, there was no way I could leave it and be able to focus on the game.

Turns out, checking the damn thing ended up being ten times worse.

Jayne’s message consisted of a screenshot of the pic of me and Liv at the restaurant the other night, followed by the words: You blew it big time, B. Hope you’re ready for what’s coming.

I have no fucking clue what she’s talking about, and knowing her, it’s just a load of bullshit in an attempt to get me to call her. That is exactly what I would’ve done had I not been called out to the field as soon as I saw her message. I know I shouldn’t, but I just can’t risk her doing something that could potentially upset Liv. She can’t take any more drama.

So, first thing after the game, I’m calling Jayne and finding out just what the fuck she wants. And then I’m calling Liv, letting her know exactly what’s been going on with Jayne before something else happens and she finds out the hard way.

Tag scoots over next to me, carefully eyeing me as he hands me a bottle of water. “So, that sucked.”

I squirt some water into my mouth before nodding. “Don’t have to tell me that.”

“Got something on your mind, bro? Things okay with Liv?”

I raise a brow at him, my lips tipping up in a half-smile. “Is this what we do now? Talk about our feelings and braid each other’s hair? I call dibs on the purple nail polish, if so.”

Tag rolls his eyes. “Come off it, B. Something is up with you. You don’t just strike out for no damn reason.”

I let out a breath, deciding I might as well tell him about the messages I’ve been getting from Jayne. I give him a quick rundown, and by the time I’m done, the look of concern on his face has only increased.

“And you’re sure you made it clear it was over between the two of you?” he asks.

“Dude, I don’t think I could’ve made it any clearer if I smacked her in the face with a reality shovel. That’s what she’s pissed about. She’s having trouble…coming to terms with my newfound relationship.”

“And you say you’ve ignored all her previous messages?”

I nod. “Aside from the phone call I inadvertently answered, we haven’t spoken since the night I told her about Liv. I thought she’d eventually get tired of me not responding and give up. But this last message…I don’t take well to threats, Tag. You should know that.”

“I can’t say I blame you. I don’t understand why the chick just can’t take the hint.”

I shrug. “Me either. But I’m going to put an end to it, once and for all.”

“You sure that’s a good idea? You might just be feeding the beast.”

“What the hell else am I supposed to do? Just let her keep getting away with being a giant twat waffle?”

Now, it’s Tag’s turn to shrug. “I think you should talk to Liv. Find out what she thinks about the whole situation before you do anything.”

I hang my head, knowing he’s right. I wanted to put this to bed before even broaching the subject with Liv. But I know she’d want to be a part of the decision. And it’ll show her I trust her enough not to jump to conclusions about the messages and to listen to what I have to say.

This could be a good thing for our relationship, if I spin it that way.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll call her right after the game.”

“Good. Now, pull your head out of your ass. If we lose this thing because you’re too tied up in your own drama, I will personally kick your ass.”

We didn’t lose. In fact, I stepped up to the plate in the seventh inning and redeemed myself, knocking one clean out of the park and scoring us three runs. That sealed the deal, our opponents not able to make up those three runs in their last three at bat.

I head into the locker room with a smile on my face, glad I was able to let go of my shit long enough to not let my team down.

Fuck Jayne and the broomstick she rode in on.

As the team files into the visitors’ locker room, my thoughts revert back to Liv and the conversation we need to have tonight. I’m so lost in my own head that I don’t hear Coach when he first speaks.

“Jeffers!” he shouts, his irritated tone letting me know this isn’t the first time he’s said my name.

I pull up short, plastering a shit-eating grin on my face and sauntering over to him. “Sorry, Coach. Guess I was too busy reliving that one time I won the game for us. Remember that? It happened, oh, say, thirty minutes ago.”

Coach rolls his eyes at me. “Well, when you’re done being a vain-ass moron, there are some reporters up front. Want to talk to you about your hit. And, after you’re done, you and I will be talking about that strikeout.”

Leave it to Coach to bust my balls even though I pretty much just won the game.

I take my time with showering before I head out front, hoping that maybe the assholes got sick of waiting and took off. Normally, I don’t mind talking to the press after a win. But I’ve got more important things to do tonight.

I slide onto the chair and nod to the first reporter.

After answering a half-dozen questions about my home run, the inevitable finally comes.

“Brandon, what can you tell us about the rare strikeout you had today? It’s been a long time since we’ve seen one of those from you.”

I want to tell the motherfucker to sit his ass down and shut up, that everyone makes mistakes, even people as great as myself. It always drives me batshit crazy when the press tries to dwell on the negative instead of the positive. Especially after a win.

But I know that won’t win me any brownie points with Coach, who’s already ready to ream my ass. And I don’t need to deal with a fine for ripping into a reporter and tarnishing the reputation of the Rampage.

“Well, I think I was just as surprised as you were. Like you said, it’s been a while since I’ve had one of those. I guess it just goes to show that you can’t always anticipate what the pitch is gonna be. Luckily, I was able to read Hansen better the second time, and we were able to salvage the game.”

“Do you think the news of the pregnancy had any effect on your performance tonight?”

My head snaps up, my gaze narrowing on the slender woman near the back. She is holding a recorder out over the shoulders of her colleagues, and I watch as the entire room erupts into a frenzy.

I have no clue how this woman found out about the baby, and I want nothing more than to leap off the stage and drag her out of the room, so I can demand answers. There’s no way Liv went to the press about this. And Lexi and Tag are the only others who know, aside from Charlie and my mom.

Then, it hits me.

That goddamn nurse at the hospital.

She must’ve leaked the news to the press. I mean, she wasn’t our nurse, but we were leaving the maternity floor. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out why we were there. And I’m sure she has access to look up records. Who knows how many laws she just broke, so she could get her fifteen minutes of fame and some cash?

I was willing to look the other way when she was just telling her husband she saw me at the hospital. But you can be damn sure she isn’t going to get away with this. Her ass is grass as soon as I make a phone call in the morning.

But there’s no use in trying to deny it now. The cat’s out of the proverbial bag, so I might as well own it. Besides, it’s not like we never planned for this to come out. Like Liv said at the doctor’s office earlier, it was only a matter of time before someone spotted her baby bump. It’s just a little…sooner than we were anticipating.

“The pregnancy had nothing to do with my performance today. If anything, the reason I’ve been playing so well lately is because I’m so happy.”

“So, you were aware of the pregnancy before today?”

I give the woman a dumbfounded look. “Of course I was. I was just at the hospital with her this morning.” You dolt, I tack silently on at the end, borrowing the term from Liv.

I’m sure the damn nurse told whomever she broke the story to that she had seen me there.

What’s this woman playing at?

“How long have you known? And why haven’t you made a statement before today?”

Because it’s none of your damn business; that’s why.

This woman is starting to royally piss me off.

“Look, I agreed to some questions about the game, not about my personal life. I’ll go on the record as saying Liv and I are very happy about the baby, and I’m very much looking forward to becoming a dad. Now, if there’s nothing else…” I move to stand, ready to get the hell out of here and back to my room.

I see the woman look down at her notes, her eyes quickly scanning a page before she calls out again, “Liv? My sources say the mother’s name is Jayne. Jayne Stewart.”

I open my mouth, about to tell her to take her questions and shove them up her ass, when her words register.

“The mother’s name is Jayne.”

I fall back into the chair, the thoughts in my head running at about a million miles per hour. But the only words I can manage are, “That fucking bitch.”

A dozen cameras flash, the sudden uproar in the room making it impossible to hear any one voice above the others.

But I don’t give a fuck what they’re saying.

I need to get to Liv.