The Perfect Pitch (Indianapolis Lightning Book 1)

by Samantha Lind

  Forty or so minutes go by and I hear a car door close outside, followed by the front door opening a moment later.

  “Where are my girlies at?” Derek calls out as he enters. Addison and Penelope both pop up and run screeching toward the door.

  “Daddy!” they yell as they leap into his arms. He picks them both up as if they’re light as a feather.

  “I missed you both so much,” he tells them as he kisses their cheeks.

  Penelope giggles and then rubs his short beard. “Daddy, that tickles.”

  “Like this?” he says, rubbing it against her neck, causing her to giggle harder.

  “Y-yes,” she says between fits of laughter. He turns and does the same to Addison, which gets her giggling just as hard as her sister.

  “Where’s Momma and Auntie RyRy?” he asks as he sets them down.

  “On the couch, ’laxing,” Penelope tells him. I love the way she mispronounces relaxing. Just one of her little quirks that reminds me she’s still little and learning. He looks up and sees both Riley and I spread out on the two couches. His smile grows when he spots me, our eyes connecting from across the room. Something shifts between us. Something I didn’t realize was off-kilter, but just being back in the same room as him makes it all right.

  He closes the distance to where I’m sprawled on the couch, he crouches down on his haunches next to me. He cups my cheek and slowly leans in, pressing his lips against mine. “I missed you,” he says against my lips once he breaks the kiss, keeping it PG since we have an audience.

  “Get a room, you two,” Riley teases from the other couch.

  “Get a room!” Addison copies her and we all break out laughing.

  “Oops, forgot they repeat everything we say,” Riley says once we’ve all had a good laugh.

  “Could be worse,” I reply.

  “Have you guys had dinner yet?” Derek asks.

  “We had a late snack on the plane, but nothing since we got here.”

  “Are you guys hungry? I can order something in, if you’d like.”

  “Groceries were already delivered, if you want something quick,” I tell him. “But, if you’re willing to wait, we can order something so none of us have to cook tonight. I’m exhausted and don’t feel like it to be honest with you.”

  “How are you feeling? Flying go okay?” he asks me quietly.

  “It was fine. I’m just tired. No puking today, so I take that as a win.”

  “Still having to take the meds the doctor gave you?”

  “Yes, but I’ve been able to get down to just taking it in the morning to get me over the first part of the day. Once I’ve gotten something in my stomach and started moving around, I’m usually pretty good.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” He drops another chaste kiss to my lips.

  “How was the game?”

  “It was really great. Felt really good out there.” It was his first start for the preseason. With five starting pitchers on the team, they rotate through who starts.

  “I saw a few highlights and you looked amazing.”

  “Hopefully I stay that way,” he says, then stands up, and pulls out his cell phone, scrolling through it. “What do you ladies feel like eating tonight?”

  “I’m open to almost anything,” Riley answers him, and turns to me. “What do you think you can stomach?”

  “I’m really craving a greasy cheeseburger,” I tell them, and Derek just gives me a WTF look. He knows I don’t usually eat cheeseburgers, but that’s what sounds good to me at the moment.

  He raises his eyebrows at me. “That’s an interesting craving.”

  “What can I say, blame it on the…” I point at my abdomen and the itty-bitty baby growing inside of me.

  “Duly noted.” He snickers, scrolling until he finds a restaurant with a cheeseburger, and orders for all of us. “Food should be here in forty-five to sixty minutes,” he says before dropping his phone on the end table.

  “Before you get comfortable, I need you to do me a favor,” I tell him, just before he sits down on the couch.

  “What’s that?”

  “Can you bring in the rest of the luggage, please?” I look up at him, batting my eyelashes.

  “Sure.” He laughs at me, bending over and dropping a kiss to my lips. “I’ll collect payment later,” he says so only I can hear.

  He takes off for the garage and quickly brings in the suitcases, taking them back to the bedrooms, then joins us in the living room. The girls have gone back to playing with the toys they found, and I get sucked into an episode of some cooking competition on TV.

  “I don’t know how these people can be so creative with their designs,” I say to Riley when they show off the work of one of the bakers.

  “Right. It’s like a masterpiece, and all someone is going to do is cut into it and eat it. I couldn’t imagine putting that much time into a cake,” she muses.

  “And they’re hella expensive. I don’t even want to tell you how much I’ve paid for the girls’ cakes when I’ve done the custom ones.”

  “I bet.”

  Derek sits down on the couch, picking my feet up and placing them in his lap once he’s seated. He starts rubbing them, digging his thumbs into the arches. My eyes nearly roll back in my head as he works the tight muscles over.

  “How’s that feel?” he asks after a few minutes.

  “Amazing. You might just put me to sleep if you keep it up.”

  “Do you need to go in and lay down?” he asks, concerned.

  “Nope, if I lay down now, I’ll be down for the night. I’ll just go to bed shortly after the girls do.”

  We’re interrupted by the buzzer going off, alerting us to someone trying to get in the gate. Derek takes care of letting the delivery guy in and goes to wait for him by the front door.

  “Holy shit. You’re Derek Smyth,” the kid exclaims when he reaches the front door.

  “That I am,” he confirms. I watch the kid look at him with such starstruck eyes as he hands over the bags of food. I walk over and stand next to Derek.

  “Do you have a cell phone? I can take a picture of the two of you,” I offer, and the kid looks like he just won the lottery at my offer.

  “Of course!” He starts patting all his pockets until he finds his phone tucked in one of his back ones. He pulls it out and opens up the camera. Derek sets the bags of food down on a small entryway table and stands out on the stoop to pose for a picture with the young man. I snap a couple pictures to make sure he has a good one to show off to his friends and family. “My buddies are going to be so jealous,” he exclaims as he looks at the pictures.

  “Do you play ball?” Derek asks him.

  “Just a few years of Little League. I wasn’t good enough to go further than that. My mom couldn’t afford the year-round leagues or the travel teams,” he says, shrugging his shoulders.

  “That’s okay, my man,” Derek tells him, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m sure there’s something else you’re destined to do and once you find it, you’ll know it.”

  “Thanks,” he replies. “I’d better go, I’ve got more deliveries to make. Have a good rest of your evening.”

  “Thanks, you too. Hold up for one second,” Derek tells him as he pulls his wallet out. He takes some cash and hands it over to the kid. “An extra tip. Go do something nice for your mom.”

  “Thank you so much.” The kid pockets the cash and almost stumbles off the stairs as he turns quickly to head down to his car. “I’ll surprise her this weekend,” he calls out before sliding into the driver’s seat and closing his door.

  “His answer was honest and not rehearsed. It’s the least I could do for the kid,” he says, shrugging his shoulders as he grabs the bags of food and heads for the kitchen.

  I watch him as he walks, a smile on my face. He’s always been a softie, helping people in need now that he can afford to.

  Twenty-Five

  Derek

  I get all the food pulled out of the bag
s and find some plates to use from one of the cabinets. The owners are definitely prepared, as they also had kid-friendly plates and utensils for the girls to use.

  “Dinner’s ready,” I call out, and Addison and Penelope come running in.

  “Go wash up,” Jillian reminds the girls and they turn around. “The bathroom is just around the corner,” she adds, realizing they’re confused on where the bathroom is. She follows them in and helps them get all washed up before they return to the table and take their seats. I set the plates, along with cups, in front of them with milk from the fridge.

  “Thanks, D,” Riley tells me as she accepts the plate with her food on it. She lifts up onto her toes and places a kiss on my cheek before finding a seat of her own at the table.

  “You’re welcome. It’s the least I can do for all your help,” I reply before taking a seat between Addison and Penelope.

  We’ve only been eating for a few minutes when Penelope looks over at Jillian. “Mommy, I don’t feel good.” We both turn our heads at the same time and see her face swelling.

  “Shit!” Jillian jumps up from her seat. “Call an ambulance now!” she yells as she takes off down the hall. She comes running back in a few seconds later, her purse in hand as she digs out Penelope’s EpiPen case. Thank God Riley was here, as she followed Jillian’s instructions and called 911 while I froze and watched as my little girl swelled with hives and start gagging.

  “Lay her on the floor, Derek!” Jillian instructs as she opens the EpiPen case. I do as she says, and Jillian injects the medicine into her thigh. As soon as the needle pierces her skin, Penelope screams out and starts crying between gags.

  “What did she eat?” I ask, dumbfounded. “I promise I checked the allergy menu before I ordered her food.”

  A few seconds later, I hear the sirens outside. Riley must have taken care of letting them in the gate because, before I know it, two paramedics are entering the house, followed by some firemen, who all surround us. Jill explains what happened, and that we’ve already administered a round of Epi to her. They hook her up to a monitor and tell Jill she can sit on the stretcher first, then place Penelope in her lap before they strap both of them in.

  “You can follow us to the hospital, Mr. Smyth,” one of the paramedics tells me, and it snaps me out of my shock.

  “Thank you,” I reply, then turn to my sister.

  “You go, I’ll keep Addison here. Call or text me when you have any news,” she says, then pushes me out the door, handing me my cell phone and keys.

  I follow the ambulance as we make the short drive to the nearest hospital, where I aimlessly park and find the entrance for the emergency room. I walk straight up to the registration desk, waiting not so patiently for someone to help me.

  “My daughter was just brought in by ambulance with an allergic reaction. Penelope Smyth,” I tell the lady behind the desk.

  “Just a moment, sir.” She types something into her computer. “She’s in Treatment Bay Five. Go through that door and down the hall. It will be on your left,” she says as I hear the buzz of the door next to me opening.

  I follow her directions and run down the hall, skidding to a stop when I find the exam room. When I enter, I find a nurse and doctor assessing her. They’ve removed her clothes and have monitors stuck to her chest and abdomen, as well as an IV inserted into her arm. She’s clinging to Jillian, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “Penny!” I gasp under my breath. Jillian looks at me, the worry evident in her expression.

  “Do you know what she was exposed to?” the doctor asks Jillian.

  “I don’t know for sure, but my guess is, the restaurant we ordered from uses peanut oil for their fries.”

  “If it was that, do you know how many fries she ingested?”

  “Just a couple. We’d only been eating for two minutes tops when she reacted.”

  “Okay,” the doctor says as he watches the monitor. Every inch of her body is covered in hives, so many that it almost appears as if her hives have hives. I’ve never seen something so bad. “Her vitals are good and I see no distress with her breathing. I’d like to monitor her for the next five or six hours to make sure she doesn’t have any rebound reactions. My guess is she was able to vomit out everything she ingested. We’ve already pushed some steroids in her IV, along with the saline, so if she starts to get sleepy, that’s why, and it’s okay if she falls asleep.”

  I shake his hand. “Thank you, doctor.”

  “You’re welcome,” he tells me, then turns to Jill. “Your quick thinking definitely helped curb her reaction, and who knows, might have saved her life had it gotten bad enough to affect her airway.”

  “We got lucky, that’s for sure,” I interject.

  I move the extra chair closer to the side of the bed and take a seat on it. I grab Jillian’s hand, lacing her fingers with my own. I don’t know what I would have done had something worse happened to Penelope, and I’m mentally kicking my own ass, since I’m the one who ordered the food and gave it to her. How could I be so careless? Just to be sure I didn’t miss something, I pull up the restaurant’s allergy menu and double check it once more. It clearly states they use canola oil in their fryers, so she should have been safe.

  “I’m going to call the restaurant and find out what went wrong,” I tell Jillian. I’m pissed now, and someone needs to answer for what happened.

  I tap the button to call and it feels like it rings forever before someone finally answers.

  “I need to speak with a manager immediately,” I firmly tell the person on the other end.

  “One moment, please,” they state before placing me on hold. It takes probably thirty seconds for someone to pick up the line, which feels like thirty minutes, thanks to how shot my nerves are at the moment.

  “This is Dave, how can I help you?”

  “Hi, Dave, this is Derek Smyth and I placed an order for my family a little more than an hour ago, after reading over your restaurant’s allergy menu to make sure it was safe for my daughter. I need some answers, as we’re currently sitting in the emergency room after she reacted to something within a few bites. My wife thinks it might have been the oil you fry fries in. According to the website, you use canola. Is that still true?” I ask, as calmly as possible.

  “I’m sorry to hear that your little girl is in the hospital. We typically use canola oil, but our supplier had a shortage and had to send us peanut oil.”

  “You might want to place a notice to your customers about that change. It almost killed my little girl. Now, I can go to the media about this, or you can agree to warn other customers about the change until you switch back. Your company will also agree to cover any and all expenses we incur due to this ordeal. I don’t like to use my status as a means for media coverage, but I will if need be,” I tell him, with no remorse in my voice. He must take me seriously and know I’m not joking around with my threats.

  “Of course, sir. Is there an email I can send our office contact information to, for you to forward any bills that need reimbursed? I’ll also make up some notice signs and have our servers inform customers of the change with each new table.”

  I give him my manager’s email address and tell him additional communications may come from their office. I don’t need this guy telling me one thing and then going against his word later on.

  “You might check with your website people to also make note of the change on your website and within the ordering apps, as that is how we ordered.”

  “Thank you for the suggestion, I’ll pass that information on, as well,” he assures me.

  “Someone from my management team will follow up within the next few days to make sure things are in order,” I reply before we disconnect the call.

  “I figured it was the oil,” Jillian tells me a few seconds later. “So many places don’t realize just how deadly it can be to change something out like that without telling people about the change. Hopefully they’ll learn their lesson from this.”


  “I just hope it didn’t happen to anyone else.”

  “Me too.”

  Just then, Penelope stirs in her arms.

  “Do you need me to take over?”

  “Yes, I need to use the bathroom,” she says, and I stand and pick Penny up from her lap. I carefully place her against my chest, her head resting on my shoulder, then help Jillian stand from the bed. Once she’s out of the room, I get as comfortable as I can on the bed, adjust Penelope in my lap, and pull out my phone.

  Derek: We’re here and being monitored for a while. They gave her some steroids and fluids, and her hives are finally starting to recede. Thankfully, it never affected her airway. I called the restaurant and tore into them after they confirmed they switched types of oil without telling their customers.

  Riley: Holy crap. I’m glad she’s doing okay. How are you and Jillian holding up? Need me to bring you anything?

  Derek: We’ll be fine. Just stay there with Addison. How is she doing?

  Riley: I think she was in shock. She cried for a bit after you guys left, but I was able to calm her down. Got her to finish her dinner and we’re watching a movie now together in my bed. I don’t think she’s going to last much longer before she passes out.

  Derek: Thanks for keeping her. We really appreciate it. Also, thanks for not freezing up like I did when Jillian told us to call 911.

  Riley: Don’t mention it.

  I drop my cell on the bed when Jillian comes back in the room. She looks exhausted, yet beautiful all at the same time.