Page 31 of Bad Ball Hitter
A wave of dizziness washes over me. I clutch the back of the couch, trying to steady myself as my knees threaten to buckle.
“Mom, you’re really sick.” Jake’s brow furrows, his worry palpable.
“No,” I mutter, stubbornly straightening at his concerned tone. “I’m fine … I just need a moment.” Where are those damn keys?
I search in the couch cushions and on every counter surface in the kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom.
Still nothing.
“I can’t find them anywhere.” Jake’s voice wavers as tears spring to his eyes.
My heart breaks at feeling so helpless.
“I’ll try Miranda again. Can you get me the phone?”
He nods and races over to the coffee table. Once he hands it to me, I quickly redial her number. My entire body deflates when it goes straight to her messages.
A wave of nausea hits me again, but this time, I keep it down. I glance into Jake’s concerned eyes and know only one thing left to do.
I suck in the weakest, shakiest breath and dial the last person I ever thought I’d be calling—Drake.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Drake
“Hey, you’re Drake Gunner.” My name is said in awe, but in that cool way that only teenagers can get away with. Usually, I smile and chat, take a selfie, or sign whatever they want. But not today. I have a sick person waiting for me.
“That I am. Can you hold the door?” I hold up the takeout bags of soup. “My friend’s sick. Need to get these to her.”
“Yeah.” The kid darts to the door and holds it open for me, smacking his friend’s arm, and his eyes widen. “Does this mean you’re going to be around all the time now?”
“Looks to be the case,” I mumble past them and make a beeline to the elevator. “Guess I’ll be seeing you again soon.”
I press the button to Lila’s floor and pray the elevator doesn’t take long while the kids talk animatedly with each other. I was at the facility when Lila’s call came through. Rappel just looked at me when I dropped everything to come here. Whatever. He’d do the same for a friend.
And Lila’s a friend.
Besides, I can’t let Jake down.
And speaking of the little guy, I barely finished knocking when he opened the door.
“Gun Man.” His greeting smile drops as he leans closer and whisper-shouts, “Mom’s sick. She’s kind of gross.”
“I’m sure she’s fine, buddy.” The burnt bacon smell hits my nostrils the moment I step inside. I toss the takeout on the kitchen counter and take in the mess. Remnants of busted eggshells lay on the counter while dried egg yolk smears the side of the cabinet. “Did you attempt to make breakfast?”
“Yes. It wasn’t as good as Mama Lila’s, but I did it.” He scrunches his nose. “I don’t think Mom liked it, though.”
“I’m sure she loved it.”
“It made her throw up.”
My head snaps toward her bedroom. “Is she okay?” I don’t wait for a response and take off toward there.
“She’s in the bathroom.”
“Lila? You, okay?” I holler.
A weak “Yeah” echoes down the hall. I pick up my pace.