I laughed.

The big scarred man was good, I’d give him that.

“It’s nice to meet you, formally,” I said, shaking his hand.

He snorted and moved his feet off the bench in front of him before standing.

“Alright, well looks like that boy needs a little direction. I’ll check on y’all in a while,” Max said before heading over to Bennett and his father who were standing near the dugout, exactly where I’d left them.

Bennett looked pissed, even now.

I wondered what had happened to get him so upset. Was he mad at me?

Hell, I deserved to have him mad at me.

I was an ass for not calling him the past few days.

And a coward.

And a wiener.

I planned on telling Bennett tonight about my diabetes, and I also planned on telling him that I was taking a chance.

One that had me letting down my defenses.

See that was what I’d been doing the past couple days. Bringing them down. One brick at a time.

I also did a lot of soul searching, and I knew that Bennett wasn’t the type of man that would hurt me.

“So tell me about you, dear. Bennett tells me you work at the hospital,” Jessie said.

Nausea started to boil in my belly as the lightheadedness started to really pay a toll on my body.

I nodded at her, turning to face her slightly on the bleachers.

“I’m a PA at Good Shepherd. I work in the ER,” I told her. “Kind of like a physician, yet not.”

Payton laughed.

My eyes went to her, and I was struck with how similar we were. Both of us were similar in height and build. She had blonde hair where I had brown.

Not to mention the underside of her hair was purple where mine was still brown.

“What?” I asked with a smile.

She shook her head. “Nothing. I just liked how you played down the fact that you’re a PA. At twenty six. That’s quite an accomplishment.”

I blushed.

Yeah, I’d heard that before.

“So you’re not too far from Payton, right?” Jessie asked.

I shook my head, but Payton beat me to answering.

“No mom. Just two floors in between us. Not that that means anything. There are over four hundred people that work in that hospital, on any given day. It’d be a miracle had we seen each other before,” Payton explained.

Men’s raised voices had us turning to see Bennett, his father, and Max all screaming at the game.

And an especially animated Bennett was screaming about the umpire being a moron again.

“That boy needs to chill,” Jessie sighed, shaking her head.

“He’s been in a bad mood all day. He was fine when we walked the kids’ home from school, but something must’ve happened between then and now,” Payton said, shaking her head.

My heart ached.

Had something happened?

I probably would’ve known had I not been ignoring him the past few days.

I leaned forward and propped my head in my hands, resting them on my upraised knees as I listened to the two of them speculate what might’ve happened to Bennett that day to make him so angry.

Although, from the tales he’d told me over the past few weeks, I knew he didn’t really have the easiest of jobs. It was entirely possible that any number of things could’ve happened.

A ball tinked loudly against a metal bat, and my eyes snapped forward to see the ball sailing up and over the back of the gate.

I moved quickly out of the way, but the suddenness of the move had me going from lightheaded to about to pass out.

The ball slammed to the ground a few inches in front of where I’d been sitting only seconds before.

Although I managed to move, I knew that something other than getting up too fast was wrong.

I had to know my body well, which was how I knew my blood sugar was getting low.

“I think I’m going to run up to the concession stand. Anybody want anything?” I asked the two women.

They both shook their heads, and I got up to move down the front of the stands.

I passed the male huddle that was going on outside the dugout, but didn’t stop when none of them turned their eyes towards me.

My limbs felt like they weighed a million pounds, and my eyes were starting to get droopy.

By the time I made it to the concession stand, I was about ready to pass out.

“What can I get you?” A pimply teenager asked tiredly.

“Gatorade and sour punches.” I told him quickly.

I knew I needed sugar, and without actually injecting myself, or chewing those nasty pills that always seemed to leave a bad taste in my mouth, that was the third best way to get it.

“That’ll be seven fifty,” the boy said as he placed my items down on the sticky ledge in front of me.

I placed my wallet down onto the counter and said, “I have some cash in there. Can you get it for me?”

Then, pitifully, I twisted off the cap of the Gatorade and placed it to my mouth.

Hands trembling, I took two long sips and closed my eyes.

That’s when I swayed.

Going down to my knees, and then further to my butt, I leaned my head against the concession stand and deep breathed.

Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out. I chanted that to myself over and over again, but I had a feeling it’d take more than a few sips to get my blood sugar back up.

“Ma’am?” The boy asked from above me.

I opened my eyes, ones that I hadn’t realized that I’d closed, and stared at the young boy who’d made his way around the concession stand.

“Yeah?” I asked weakly.

“Are you okay?” He asked worriedly.

I tried to take another sip of my juice but only managed to spill it on my shorts.

Luckily they were black and wouldn’t show the huge red stain.

“Can you help me drink this?” I asked, gesturing to him weakly with my Gatorade.

He took the drink from my hand, but before he could get it close to my lips, Bennett’s shout had me turning weakly to see him running towards us.

“Don’t let him scare you. He’s a teddy bear,” I told the boy who was slowly backing away as if he could see that Bennett was intimidating.

“He doesn’t look too happy,” the boy said warily.

Bennett didn’t waste any time dropping down onto the dirt beside me, taking my head in his massive hands.

“What’s wrong?” He asked worriedly, scanning my body.

I blinked. “Low blood sugar. I was trying to drink that when you scared the poor boy.”

Bennett looked over his shoulder at the boy he’d effectively dismissed as a threat, and held out his hands. “Give.”

The boy gave.

I tilted my head back slightly and opened my mouth as Bennett helped me drink.

He watched me avidly, eyes fastened on my throat as I drank deeply.

“Have you not eaten anything today or something?” He asked anxiously once he removed the bottle from my lips.

I licked them, bringing his attention back to my lips, before I answered.

“I have diabetes.”

He blinked.

“And?” He said.

I grinned. “I have diabetes, and this happens from time to time. My insulin makes my blood sugar drop into the toilets every once in a while, and I have to drink juice to get it to come back up.”

He exhaled and offered me the drink once again.

“This isn’t a sudden thing, is it?” He asked.

I shook my head. “No. It’s takes a while to come on. I can usually circumvent it before it gets too bad.”

By now we’d gathered a crowd, mostly of the people trying to get food at the concession stand I was currently passed out in front of.

“Help me up,” I breathed, offering Bennett both hands.

He placed the half empty Gatorade on the ledge, then ignored my hands and placed both of his into my armpits before lifting me up completely.

I swayed slightly on my feet, but was feeling a lot better already.

It was amazing how well the human body bounced back from certain things.

Bennett stayed silent as he grabbed my things, paid for my food, and then walked me over to the bleachers.