Page 18 of Saving The Shortstop

Yeah … all views but my eyes.

Shaking my head, I snap my mind back to present when my dad says my name again.

“Are you there?” he says, voice awfully grumpy for a man asking such a big favor for one of his players. “Haven?”

“Yes, Dad.” I sigh. “I’m here.”

“I told him that if he didn’t convince you, he’s off the team.” My dad stops, almost as if hearing his own voice and knowing what he’s saying isn’t right. “But … I guess I should have checked with you first.”

“You guess?” I say, lifting a brow and smirking, even though I’m driving alone.

“No, I don’t guess,” he murmurs. “I should have asked you first. I’m sorry.” He sighs, and I can picture him playing with his baseball cap. “He’s such a good kid, and he’s so talented. I just want him to get the help he not only needs but deserves. That kid has had enough battles in his life he’s had to fight solo. I don’t think his education should be one of them.”

I’m quiet for a moment, processing everything he just said and knowing damn well I’m done torturing my dad. At least for the day.

“We started last night,” I say finally.

“You little shit, making me feel like you weren’t going to do it,” he teases. “How did it go?”

“It would go a lot better if he would just admit that he needs help,” I tell my dad honestly. “Like, more help than maybe I can give him.”

“What do you mean?”

As Dallas’s coach, sure, he has the right to tell him that he needs to get his grades up. But I’m not going to dish out what I think because right now, that’s not going to make a difference. At least, not until I can bring it up to Dallas that he may be eligible for some accommodations.

“That’s on a tutor-student need-to-know basis, Dad,” I answer. “But rest assured we are working on getting his grades up and it’ll all be fine. Don’t worry, I didn’t want to have any free time anyway.”

“Attagirl,” he drawls. “Thank you for doing this. You’re a good one. Love you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I mumble. “Send me your practice and game schedule now so that I can figure out a plan,” I huff out. “Love you, bye.”

Ending the call, I turn down Eagle Way, the road that both the female athletic house, The Nest, and both male athletic houses, The Tower and The Lookout, are on.

Moments later, I’m pulling into the driveway of The Nest. Parking my Jeep, I yawn and push the door open, closing it behind me. Before I head inside, I look down the street at The Tower, and right away, I notice that Dallas’s truck is in the same spot it was hours ago when I left.

“I want to go put in a coffee IV,” I utter to myself before sighing dramatically just as my phone dings, and it’s the football schedule from my dad. “Damn you, Dad. Making me feel bad.”

I’ve successfully avoided Tabor since the coffee shop, and if he lived in the same house that Dallas does, I wouldn’t be walking toward The Tower right now, to go see Dallas to talk about tutoring. But, luckily, he lives in The Lookout. It’s still too close for comfort, but … I’ll just keep hoping I don’t run into him.

Stopping in front of The Tower, head up the stairs and knock on the door a few times. When the door swings open, a shirtless Hendrix Hunt is looking me in the eyes. His hair is wet like he just got out of the shower. The dude, much like Dallas, doesn’t have to do a damn thing to look that pretty. It’s annoying.

“What’s up, King?” he says, jerking his chin up.

“Not much, just looking for D,” I say, knowing he’ll know who I mean. Everyone knows how close my family is with the Rivers family. Though I don’t typically knock on the door at eight in the morning.

“He’s in his room, probably still sleeping,” he drawls with a smirk. “I got home last night, and he was pretty tuned up.”

I frown, not knowing what that even means, and Hendrix chuckles.

“Drunk, King. He was drunk.”

“Nice,” I grumble, rolling my eyes before, without permission, I push past him and head up the stairs. “Tell Isla I said hi!”

“Will do,” he calls back, truly not giving a shit that I’m about to bust into his buddy’s room.

Hendrix is a hockey player who is dating Isla Hardy, another hockey player. They are, hands down, the cutest couple I’ve ever seen. He’s all bad boy vibes, and she’s a princess in goalie gear.

I run up the stairs quickly, but once I’m at the top and standing in front of his door, it occurs to me that Hendrix said he was drunk, but he never said he was alone.