My own exhaustion from the game, from the travel, and from everything else finally catches up to me, and my eyelids start to get heavy.
But I don’t hang up.
I keep listening to her breathe, and somewhere between one breath and the next, I fall asleep too.
Chapter 37
Heather
I wake up slowly, dimly aware that something hard and uncomfortable is digging into the side of my head. Something plastic.
My phone.
I’m still holding it in my hand and pressing it against my ear.
The memory of last night’s conversation comes back to me and I start to smile—both because of how much Grant opened up to me and because of how desperate I obviously was to keep him on the line.
He must have waited for me to fall asleep first before he hung up. But as soon as the thought occurs to me, I hear his slow, steady breathing.
He never hung up at all. He stayed on the line all night and is still here with me now.
My heart does that familiar little flutter, and I know for sure that I’m smiling up at my ceiling like an idiot now, but I can’t help myself.
I turn over in bed carefully, then bring the phone to my other ear. “Grant?” I whisper, then try a little louder with, “Baby?”
The breathing changes and becomes less steady. “Hm?”
His voice is rough with sleep, and deeper than usual, and it’s doing absolutely unfair things to my insides.
“You’re still here,” I say softly.
“Yeah.” There’s a rustling sound, like he’s moving around. “I wanted to say good morning.”
My chest tightens. “You stayed on the phone all night just to say good morning?”
“Is that okay?”
“It’s…” I trail off, not sure how to put what I’m feeling into words. “It’s really sweet.”
“Good. And good morning, Hurricane.”
That special nickname never fails to send a rush of heat through my body. Even first thing in the morning. Even half-asleep. “Good morning.”
We’re both still in that drowsy space between dreams and reality. He tells me about the weird dream he had where all his teammates turned into actual aces from a deck of cards. I tell him about April’s latest plan to convince me we need a pet hamster.
“A hamster?” He snorts but sounds amused.
“She made a whole presentation. With graphs.”
“At nine years old?”
“She’s very determined.” I stretch, settling deeper into my pillows. “I’m afraid she gets that from me.”
“I don’t doubt that. It’ll serve her well in life.”
His voice is so warm and familiar that I could listen to him talk all day if we had time, but reality is starting to creep back in. He has a plane to catch, and I have to get April up and ready for school.
“What time is it?” I ask.
