A Shot at Love

Behind Closed Doors

My eyes flutter open, and for a second, everything is just a haze of shapes and shadows. I blink, trying to focus my vision, and that's when I feel it—a cool, sterile weight in my arm. I glance down, and there it is: an IV. Well, that's a new one.

Where the heck am I?

I shift, attempting to sit up, but my body feels heavy, sluggish, like my muscles have been drained of all their energy. My limbs protest as I push myself upright, the weight of my head making everything spin for a moment.

Okay. Focus. I scan the room—ice baths line one wall, treatment tables are tucked into the corner, and the soft beeping of machines breaks the silence. The sharp scent of antiseptic mingles with the faint trace of sweat. And in the background, the familiar outline of Dodger Stadium peeks through the window—this is it. The medical room for the Dodgers.

I hear a soft rustle behind me, followed by a sharp, worried voice rushing toward me.

"Hey, take it easy, Kingston." I turn, and there he is—Noah. My boyfriend. His face is creased with concern, his eyes wide, like he's trying to figure out if I'm about to collapse again.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice soft but urgent.

He had the doctor called in, didn't he?

I nod, though I'm not sure if "okay" is exactly how I'd describe this. "I'm fine," I mutter, pushing myself upright. The room tilts for a second, and I grab the edge of the bed to steady myself. "My ego's more bruised than my body," I add with a half-hearted joke, but it comes out flat.

"You scared me, baby," he whispers, glancing over his shoulder, making sure we're alone. His hand hovers near my arm, as if he wants to touch me, but isn't sure if that would be crossing some invisible line.

I try to smile, but it probably looks more like a grimace. "Didn't exactly plan for this," I mumble, my throat dry. "Did you call in the team's doctor?"

"I had no choice," he says gently, his thumb grazing the outline of my jaw. His eyes are locked on mine, searching. "And I'm glad I did. The doctor found a small concentration of Yohimbine in your bloodstream."

My heart skips a beat. "What do you mean? What's that?" I ask, unease creeping into my chest.

Noah glances over his shoulder once more before leaning in closer, his fingers gently stroking my hair. "It's a supplement used for weight loss amongst other things. However, it can cause increased heart rate, anxiety, headaches, sweating, and dizziness." He sits down beside me, "You haven't been taking anything like that, right?"

"Weight loss pills? Oh my God, no!" The anger starts to bubble up inside me. "But I know exactly who gave it to me. It was your ex-wife."

Noah's expression hardens, his eyes narrowing. "You think Meredith gave this to you? How?"

"Yes!" I exhale, my chest tight. "She gave Breaker coffee to pass on to me." A sudden jolt of panic shoots through me. Breaker. My head spins, and I almost leap out of the bed. "I need to go get him! I need to interview Shohei!" My hands scramble for my phone, searching the hospital bed like I've misplaced it.

Noah's eyes soften, his voice soothing as he gently caresses my arm. "Breaker's fine. He's getting a tour of Dodger Stadium from a very eager intern," a playful sparkle flickers in his eyes. "And here's your phone," he adds, pulling it from his pocket and handing it to me.

But then his expression turns serious.

"Kingston, are you sure Meredith gave this to you?" Noah's voice drops an octave, a twinkle of curiosity lighting up his eyes. "Because if she did...well, this could be grounds for termination."