The Screw Ball (Indianapolis Lightning Book 3) by Samantha Lind (the lemonade war series .TXT) 📕

“It is easy to do that sometimes,” she says. “Since I don’t see anything else suspicious, I’m going to let you go with just a warning. Slow it down and pay attention to the posted signs, especially the speed ones,” she tells me, and I sigh in relief that I’m not getting a ticket. One less thing to put me on Carmen’s shit list.

I make my way out of the hotel and into the waiting town car. Carly came through with all the logistics for the hospital visit. I’ve got a bag filled with items to donate to the young boy who I’m going to see. I can only hope that my visit today and the items I have for him help, even if it’s temporary.

“The drive to the hospital isn’t long,” the driver tells me as we pull out of the hotel’s parking lot.

“No problem, I don’t think they’re expecting me for another twenty or so minutes,” I tell the older gentleman.

He must be used to driving people who don’t want to talk, not that I mind much. I watch as the buildings and palm trees zoom past as we make our way. As he predicted, the drive only took about ten minutes.

“I’ll drop you at the front doors, then wait for you in the back of the parking lot. On your way down, send me a text,” he states and hands over a business card, “to the number on this card and I’ll pull around and pick you back up at the door I dropped you off at.”

“Will do,” I tell him, tucking the card into my pocket. I grab the bag the team sent with me before exiting the car and heading inside.

“Hello, how can I help you?” the older woman at the information desk asks when I approach.

“Hello, I’m Lucas Black. I’m here to see Tyler Grub, he’s in the pediatric oncology ward. Can you point me in that direction, please?”

“Of course, Mr. Black,” she says, smiling up at me after she types something into the computer in front of her. “It looks like Mr. Grub is in room 867. The easiest way to that department is to take the elevator around the corner. Once on the eighth floor, you’ll take a left and head down the hall. Once you reach the nurses’ station, they’ll help you further, as it is a secure department, and you have to be let in.”

“Thank you,” I tell her, flashing her a smile. She might be the same age as my granny, but she still blushes slightly.

I follow her directions, finding the nurses’ station easily once I make it up to the eighth floor. After talking to the nurse manning the entrance, I’m quickly buzzed in.

“Tyler’s parents are expecting you; he still has no idea that you are coming today,” the nurse tells me as she escorts me to the correct room.

“Knock-knock,” she says, pushing the partially ajar door open so we can walk inside the room. “We have a special visitor here for you today, Tyler,” she tells him, moving a privacy curtain out of the way, allowing everyone the ability to see one another.

“Holy shit!” the kid calls out from his hospital bed. “You-you’re Lucas Black,” he stammers, and I can’t hold back the bark of laughter at his cursing.

“Tyler!” I hear his mom scold.

“I am,” I confirm to him, closing the distance to the side of his hospital bed. He shifts slightly, sitting up a little taller. I set the bag of things I brought with me down on the foot of his bed before offering him a fist to bump. “Nice to meet you, man,” I add.

He looks, shocked and dumbfounded, between me and his parents. I take in the expression on both his mom and dad’s faces and see the absolute look of joy in his mom’s watery smile.

“Happy birthday, Tyler,” she gets out as tears spill down her cheeks.

“Is today your birthday?” I ask. I don’t recall that information being relayed to me, but I guess I might have missed it.

“Yep, what a place to turn sixteen,” he says, motioning around to the hospital room we are in.

“That’s the way it goes sometimes. How much longer until you’re done with your treatment?” I ask. I think if I get him talking, it might help him relax more.

“I’ve got three more rounds of chemo. I’ll hopefully get to go home before those are all done. I developed a secondary infection that landed me in here after my last infusion,” he explains.

“That sucks.” I commiserate with him and he just nods his head in agreement. “You play ball?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Yeah, outfielder, like you,” he says.

“Sweet, you hope to go pro?”

“Don’t think so, I’m nowhere near good enough.”

“None of that, now, you’ve got to have confidence in your play,” I tell him. “It might be hard work, but if you can kick this cancer’s as—butt,” I say, catching the curse before it is all out and changing up my language, “then you can put in the hard work and follow your dream,” I encourage him.

“Yeah, maybe. I’ve got to make it out of this hospital, first, then high school,” he states matter-of-factly. I’m sure fighting for your life in this capacity puts everything into perspective really fast. You learn what is and isn’t all that important. Just as you learn who your true friends are in times like these.

I take the rest of my hour visit to talk shop with Tyler and his family, as well as take a handful of pictures with them. He was ecstatic with all the things that Carly sent with me to give him. Ended up being a great birthday present for the kid. He had a smile plastered to his face when it was time for me to head back to the team hotel so I could get in a few hours of rest before the game tonight.

Eight

Carmen

“Holy crap,” I murmur, reading