Out of Left Field

Epilogue - Part 1

Sloane

*One Year Later*

"My thighs are sticking to this fucking seat, I knew I shouldn't have worn shorts," I huff, sitting back and shifting my weight to try and get comfortable.
Cami snickers from beside me, rocking her precious newborn in her arms. She's beautiful and the perfect mixture of my two best friends, Cami's dark skin with Dom's eyes and curls, and every single ounce of his silly personality.

She already had so much of a personality at just 6 weeks, I can't wait to watch her grow.

Samara cooed and i relax marginally, knowing that a perfect little baby like that was the reason behind my discomfort right now.

Usually, September in Boston is my favorite. But even 74 degrees with a light breeze is torture at eight and half months pregnant. I. Am. Dying.

I can feel the sweat dripping down my back, my thighs slick against the plastic stadium seat, it's like the worst kind of sensory overload.

I'm swollen, I'm hot, I'm hungry, and my son kicks my bladder like a freaking bass drum every few seconds.

Chris thought my temper was bad before? The attitude i had without having my body invaded by the cutest little parasite was nothing compared to now.

I'm about 67 seconds away from completely losing my shit.

"He's so fucking lucky I love him," i mumble, grabbing my water bottle and chugging half of it.

"Which one?" Cami laughs.

"Chris," i grumble, "I could be watching this game in the fucking A/C with my feet elevated, but nooo." I roll my eyes, doing my best impression of Chris, "You have to come tonight, come on, it'll be fun." I scoff, rolling my eyes again.

My best friend smiles at me softly, shifting her hold on Samara so she could rest a hand on my thigh. "It's the first game you've been to in a year."

"I know," i clear my throat and pull at the neck of my jersey, fanning it gently. Though I'm not sure if I'm cooling myself off or trying to ignore the slight feeling of suffocation that accompanied the mention of last summer.

After 12 long months, i have finally gotten to a place where every little thing didn't trigger a flashback and i wasn't having nightmares. Both Chris and my therapist are proud of the strides I've made since that night.

Regardless, she isn't wrong.

After everything with Stu, i put on a pretty good facade, trying to prove to everyone that i was fine, but i wasn't. I was falling apart.

And the only person that knew was my therapist.

I was diagnosed with PTSD, anxiety, and depression, and when i found out that i was pregnant, everything just kind of hit the fan. There was no way i could raise a child in the mental state i was in, so i finally came clean.

It was hard, but i needed to do it.

So instead of planning a wedding like we originally thought, Chris spent every second of the off-season working with me and my therapist to help me cope and heal from everything that happened.