Christian POV

He felt like the biggest idiot in the world—falling for the oldest trick in the book. Christian had been played; why had he thought she cheated? Was it the way Derek had presented it? He was trying to recall how that conversation went. Originally, he’d gone to the gym to confront Derek and remove him as his trainer, but when he had arrived, Derek was waiting for him. The blonde had played on his self-doubts, then invited the outfielder to the game. He should have just gone home. 

Now, he was sitting in the emergency  room,  shirt covered in her blood, waiting to hear if Roosevelt, the woman he loves, will be okay. Her cries kept replaying in his head along with Chapman and Olson’s screaming. The Matts were, at first, livid, and then when she’d gotten hurt, the younger Olson looked absolutely ghastly. He’d gone white and hung up. Neither had tried to call her or him. But he’d texted the two updates as they were given: 

Rosie’s Boys💪💪💪

Yeli: Derek’s been arrested. We’re en route to ER. 

Yeli: She’s being seen; waiting for word. 

Yeli: I fucked up. I’m sorry. 

Neither had responded, and he didn’t blame them. As he shifted in his seat, pain shot up his leg; he’d done what she’d told him not to, and now look where they both were. She had been right—as always. 

“Family for Olson?” A nurse announced snapping Christian out of his self-loathing. 

“Here.” He slowly climbed to his feet and used his crutches to approach the waiting nurse. Giving him an encouraging smile, she offered, “This way. She’s out of surgery. The doctor will give you the prognosis shortly.” He followed her to what looked like a recovery room. “She’s still coming out of anesthesia.” 

“Hey baby.” He murmured as he took a seat beside her bed. Her left hand was exposed, and he readily grabbed it and squeezed. She looked out of it, and the injured side of her face had been completely bandaged over, so there was no telling how bad the injury was. Glancing about and seeing that no one was near, Christian admitted with tears in his eyes, “I know sorry doesn’t even begin to cover this. At all. I know this whole thing set us way back, and I wish that wasn’t the case. I meant what I said yesterday, I love you. When I saw that stupid photo, I felt like my heart had been stomped on, but I was being a stupid prick and got played. In the process, you were hurt far more. Fuck, I don’t even know where to start to make any of this alright.”

Some time passed. Roosevelt simply blinked over and over again. He knew he’d probably have to make that apology again, but this one was necessary. 

“You can start by listening to me.” She rasped with a small smile. How could she be smiling at him? Was it the anesthesia? Even banged up, she looked beautiful. Why couldn’t he get it through his head that she was with him? 

“That’s fair.” It was an easy concession to make. 

“Mhmm.”She hummed in reply. Her hand lightly squeezed his and solemnly announced, “I should have just stayed home.” 

Christian began to adamantly shake his head, “No. No..this is on me. You told me what he’d done, and I didn’t handle him properly.” 

“I take it that you tried.”

He continued to nod, “And then he played me. Making me think that bullshit was true.”

“Chris, I do love Chapman, but as a brother. The only person that I want to come home to every night is you.” 

He mulled over her words. She’d always been consistent and open about her connection to Chapman. The duo were twins separated at birth, at least that’s how she described it to him once. Chapman had his back early on, and he burned him now. ‘Damn it.’

“Also, you get the privilege of damage control.”  She quipped as she closed her eyes to keep the room from spinning. 

“Yes, ma'am.” Another part of his life he didn’t like—dealing with the press. As he was about to ask her how she was feeling, a gentleman dressed in scrubs entered. 

Normal POV

“Hello, I’m Dr Taylor.” The older man shook Christian’s hand and then Roosevelt’s. “You came in with quite the eye injury or at least it looked that way. I drained the fluid and stitched the skin laceration. From the tests run and my observations during surgery, you shouldn’t have any  permanent vision damage. A scar? Maybe, I tried my best.”

Both were elated and simultaneously stated, “Thank you, doctor.” 

Clearing his throat, his eyes looked at both back and forth, “You’re welcome. We also ran a general blood panel.” Roosevelt froze as did Christian, where was he going with this? 

“Is she sick?” Christian asked in a concerned tone. Holding her hand even tighter. The doctor  smiled, “No. I was actually going to have them do one more round of blood testing. Nothing too serious, I assure you.” Roosevelt was just relieved that her eye would be okay; she didn’t care about redoing a blood test. On the other hand, Christian didn’t like the doctor’s roundabout way of answering the question. However, before he could press for an answer, the doctor was gone and replaced by the nurse who had escorted him in. 

“Excuse me. What needs to be retested?” He asked in the politest tone he could muster.

“Dr Taylor didn’t say?” The nurse asked as she began to change the IV and then prepare to draw blood. 

“No, he said it was nothing to worry about.”  Christian answered.

“Hmm.” She returned with a kind smile on her older features. “All I can tell you is that a small portion of the panel was slightly elevated--nothing life threatening. He just wants to be sure.” 

Christian didn’t like the vagueness of her answer either. It made him worry. What was elevated? Her white blood cell count?

“Stop worrying about the blood panel.” Roosevelt lightly scolded. 

“I already fucked up protecting you once. I’m not backing off.” He replied with a pleading look. 

“The blood won’t take long. Then he’ll tell us. Whatever it is, we’ll deal, right?”

“Absolutely.” He nodded as he swallowed down his anxiety. He pulled his chair closer to her and rested his head on her leg. Her hand left his and moved to play with his hair. His eyes watered again. Why was she so understanding? 

“I’m so fucking sorry.”He murmured into the blanket. She didn’t stop moving her hand, and Christian found himself dozing. Meanwhile, Roosevelt could see the tears at the edge of his face. What a pair they were. Then again, the situation stemmed from how young their relationship was. They had failed to avoid the pitfalls that commonly plagued “famous” couples. God, she hated that part of this, but he was worth it. They’d let other people tell them how their relationship was, and that would not happen again. They needed to be a united front. 

After drifting in and out of sleep, Roosevelt woke to see Dr Taylor entering the room. Gently, she nudged Christian, who groggily sat up. 

“Everything came back normal. You’re good to go. We’re gonna go ahead and discharge you. I’ve prescribed you bandages, ointment, antibiotics, and an eyepatch until everything is healed. Don’t worry, it comes in Brewer blue.”

Christian raised an eyebrow at the doctor who readily noticed the ball player’s reaction. “Yes, I know who both of you are, and that’s why I ran the second blood panel.”

“What exactly were you checking for?” Roosevelt questioned with a slight edge in her tone. She knew that doctor/patient confidentiality was in place, but this seemed to be a bit much. 

“Pregnancy. But your bloodwork is fine.” The couple exchanged a look. He’d never come close to a pregnancy scare before, and neither had she. Her wild expression told him that much. 

“My hcG was elevated?” She asked, stunned. 

“Only slightly. I wanted to be sure, especially when it came to writing the prescriptions.” The doctor shrugged if off. 

“Should I be concerned that my current birth control is becoming ineffective?” Her voice sounded worried. Christian understood that she’d declared for the Olympics, and they were still getting their shit sorted, but would being pregnant with his child be that bad? Then again, her face was busted in and his knee was fucked up---neither were prepared for pregnancy or what came after. 

“No, no. It should be fine. You can always check in with your OBGYN, but the prescription you’re on is not known to suddenly stop working.” 

The olympian simply nodded in reply. 

“Any other questions?”

“Do I schedule a follow-up with you? And when should I be back again?”

“Ah yes. Your discharge paperwork will have my office number where you can schedule a follow up. I used dissolving stitches, so there’s no need to stitch removal. That being said, I’d like to see you in about two to three weeks.” 

Christian had quickly texted Ryan to let him know they were about to be discharged. He’d offered to pick them up. Roosevelt  gave her thanks. 

“Thank you, doctor.” Christian offered with a handshake. 

“Anytime.” The doctor replied with a smile and took his leave. The nurse then bustled in, bringing Roosevelt her clothes from earlier along with a bag containing the prescriptions and discharge information. Swiftly, the nurse painlessly removed the IV line and disconnected Roosevelt from the heart rate monitor. 

“Okay, if you need anything, I’ll be at the nurses’ station. Good luck you two.”

“Thanks.” They twinned again causing both to blush. Roosevelt slowly moved to grab her sweatpants. Having only half of her vision was causing her depth perception issues. Christian hobbled to her side and assisted her in getting dressed. 

“This is all so new.”

“Why?” She asked absentmindedly as she reached for her tank. 

“Normally, I’m taking your clothes off.” He teased with his boyish grin that got her every time. 

“No one said sex was off the table.” She murmured back to him as she grabbed her A’s jacket. He calmed her hand movements. Getting her full attention, his strong hands held both sides of her face, and Roosevelt leaned into his warmth. 

“Baby, I’m so--”

She cut him off by kissing him. Her lips were chapped from the injury and his, incredibly smooth and soft. It was a long, passionate kiss, where one of his hands moved to strongly grasp her hair. Pulling back from her, his eyes darted to her injury. 

“No more apologies. If you’re really sorry, you can spend many nights in the future proving that.” She stated with a tired smile gracing her face. 

“I intend to and more. I love you.” 

“And I, you. As much as I’d love for you to continue to hold me, I’d like to do that at home. Not in a surgical recovery room.”

“Yeah, Ryan’s on his way to get us.”

“Good.” She returned as she put the A’s jacket on and stuffed her feet into the disposable scandals that the nurse had left for her. The hospital bag was in her hand and then it struck her. She'd look creepy without the patch. 

“I should put the eye patch on, huh?” She asked as her hand began rummaging for the box. His dark eyes took in how her only her socket was actually bandaged. Earlier, he had been so consumed with guilt and stress that he’d failed to see the details. 

“Only if you want to.” 

“I’m going to have to make my own statement.” It was dawning on her. She looked like she got beat. Christian frowned at the implication. 

“Hey guys, it’s a zoo down there.” Ryan Braun’s voice broke through their tense talk. 

“Media?” Christian asked as he rubbed his face. 

“Yeah, here...” He paused and tossed Christian a hat, “...you look like shit. Roosevelt, on the other hand, looks like a pirate.” In that small amount of time, she was able to put her hair up and place the patch over her left eye. 

“Thanks Braunie. Left shoulder bothering you?”

“Yeah, like a---how did you know?”

“She’s the back whisper, dude.” Christian explained. 

“Ok boys, let me do the talking. We’re not taking any questions. Got it?” Both men nodded in compliance. As they excited, flashes of light greeted them. Honestly, none of them expected this. ‘Must be a slow news cycle.’ Roosevelt thought. 

“Did he hit you?!” “What happened?” “Are you still together?”

Passing her belongings to Ryan, Roosevelt stepped forward, raised her hands to silence the shouts, and confidently and sweetly spoke, “Yesterday evening, Christian and I had guests over, unfortunately, as I was departing the apartment to run a last minute errand, I was violently pulled back, causing my face to collide with the door. That individual has since been arrested. Christian, in no way, harmed me, and he never would. Yes, we are still together. As for both of our injuries, we will both be ready come our respective sport’s seasons. There will be no questions.”  

The crowd looked dumbfounded. Taking advantage of their stupor, the three quickly left the area, and soon shouts were heard from behind. 

“He went to the game without you! Surrounded by other women.” That comment hit a nerve with Roosevelt.

  “I’m breaking my one rule.” She shot at the two as they climbed into the beamer. 

Twisting, she sweetly returned to the reporter from TMZ, “Christian and I have trust in one another. We’re not conjoined at the hip. Now, that will be all.” 

Her smile faded into a murderous look as she climbed into the backseat. Due to his cast, Christian had to sit in the front passenger seat. Once they’d successfully made it out of the parking lot, Ryan noted the woman’s sour disposition. 

“What did that one reporter say to you, Roosevelt?” Ryan questioned with concern. Whatever it was, it caused the brunette to change her entire disposition. Christian twisted to see a facial expression that he’d never seen before.  It was overtly dark and brooding. 

“I’m sure it’ll be on TMZ later.” She muttered with annoyance. 

“No, what’d they say?”  He pressed.

“They wanted to remind me that your box was filled with women who weren’t me.” She deadpanned as her body contorted into a ball. Ryan winced, and Christian turned his face forward. His tanned hands balled into fists and then released over and over again. Ryan watched his teammate deal with unbridled self hatred. 

“Most of them were nobodies.” Ryan offered with a slight shrug. “He’d never cheat on you. He’s an asshole, but not a cheater.”

“Thanks, bro.” Christian muttered in a bitter tone. Roosevelt watched Christian tense and relax over and over again. He was trying to deal with anger. Then she saw him think about it--he was going to try to punch his knee or leg to injure himself further. 

Before he could strike, she had sprang forward and grabbed his arm in a vice like grip and growled lowly into his ear, “If you had hurt yourself over some dumb blonde bitches, I would be very much inclined to punish you in a much more painful way.”

“I deserve the pain.” 

“Nah. I just need to deal with being jealous. You’re hot, and there are going to be skanks throwing themselves at you. I already inspected you at the apartment. Ryan’s right, you can be an asshole, but you’re not a cheater.”

“Hey!” He protested. Grinning, she licked the side of his face causing him to jerk his head away. 

“No more pain meds for you.” He wagged his free hand at her.

“You liked it.” She stated with a wicked grin, let his arm go, and moved to sit again. 

“You guys are weird.” Ryan commented watching the two out the corner of his eye. 

“You have no idea.” The two jointly returned. 

“Ya’ll do shit like that. Oh, I suppose I should warn you--uh, the Matts are waiting at the apartment. Travis let them in early this morning...He stayed behind to clean up.”

“Oh, that’s sweet of him.”  Roosevelt replied. 

“Both Matts?” Christian asked; this marathon was getting to him. 

“Oh yeah. From what I understand, the whole team wanted to fly out, but there weren’t enough seats.”

“They’re good seeds.” Roosevelt announced with a smile as she bounced in her seat. 

“You’re not worried?” Ryan asked the woman who was clearly in rare form. 

“Nope. My name’s not Christian.” She quipped as she patted her hand lightly on his shoulder. Christian simply closed his eyes to alleviate some stress. 

“Dude, you’re right. She’s not allowed anymore pain meds.” Ryan whispered to his friend. 

“I can hear you, Ryan.” The woman animatedly pointed at him; she even stuck her tongue out at him. 

“Don’t make me put you on time out.” Ryan joked back. The woman raised her hands up in defeat.