Page 39 of Saving The Shortstop

When I walk into the living room, Gigi and Harley are sitting on the couch, zoned out on whatever’s on the television, and Lilly is curled up in the chair with a blanket pulled up to her chin.

“Did any of you bring flowers to Haven’s room?” I bark the words rougher and louder than I intend, but I’m so fucking worked up that I can’t help it.

Lifting the remote to pause the show, Harley shakes her head slightly as she turns to look at me.

“No, why?” she says, her brows pinching together in confusion.

“Has anyone else been around the past few hours who could have?” I say, not answering her question. “Is anyone else home?”

“It’s just the three of us and Haven,” Gigi says softly. “The basketball girls left early this morning for some sort of an event in Maine, and I haven’t seen anyone else here since I got back from early practice.”

“Same,” Lilly adds.

Harley’s eyes are wide now, and she sits forward a bit on the couch.

“What’s going on, Dallas?” She swallows. “You’re freaking me out.”

“It’s nothing, you guys,” Haven says from behind me. “Dallas is just being extra.”

I whirl around to face her, my eyes wide and my fists balled up at my sides. “Nothing? You call waking up to a bouquet of creepy flowers in your bedroom nothing?” I wave a hand at her roommates. “I asked them. Not one of them brought anything into your room, and guess what? Your window was wide fucking open.”

Her eyes float behind me to her friends. Her coloring tells me she doesn’t feel good, but right now, we need to figure out what the fuck is going on inside her ex’s head. So, feeling like shit or not, she has to deal with this.

“A lot of girls live here, D. Some of them I don’t even know that well yet. Not everyone knows the situation between me and Tabor, I’m sure.”

At first, I stare at her in disbelief. But then, I throw my head back and drag my hand down my face. This is the thing with Haven. She doesn’t fucking see the bad in people. In her mind, this is all nothing.

It’s not nothing to me.

“Jesus Christ, Haven,” I all but roar. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

She pinches the bridge of her nose, no doubt trying to ease her headache, but I don’t give a flying fuck. She can’t be this naive.

“Why do you care so much?” She tries to holler it at me, but her weakened voice doesn’t allow it.

Her words hit me like a slap in the face, and I stare at her in disbelief.

“Because you’re my fucking family!” I’m yelling now. “And so yes, after the shit Tabor said to me at the team dinner, before our game, and then trashing my fucking locker … you’re damn right now that he’s dropping off flowers—in your fucking bedroom while you slept—yeah, I care about all of that shit!”

Her face pales suddenly, and she swings her gaze back to her friends, as if she’s figuring out some key information or something.

“He’s said stuff to you?” she questions, throwing a hand into her hair. “He … trashed your locker? What did my dad say?”

“I didn’t tell him because I figured eventually, I’d take care of it myself. Plus, I have no proof,” I admit. “But then you got sick, and I’ve been here.”

“Haven.” Harley’s voice is low, clearly shaken. “I just … I think maybe—” She stops. “Between the way he acted at the coffee shop, him showing up here the other day, and now the flowers … it may be time to think about talking to someone about this. Someone who could protect you.” She inhales. “The look in his eyes, Haven. It was just … terrifying.”

My blood runs ice cold. My heart fucking pounds as the veins in my neck bulge more with each passing second.

“What is she talking about, Short?” I growl at Haven, my chest heaving because this just keeps getting worse. “That fucking creep has been showing up here? And you didn’t say anything or tell anyone?”

“Who am I going to tell?” she yells, holding her hands up, “My dad? So that he loses his best defensive end? The cops, so that they can tell me he’s done nothing wrong?” I shake my head. “What do you want me to do? He was upset I broke things off with him and then acted out, showed up here once, and sent flowers. That’s not exactly⁠—”

“And grabbed your hand so hard that you couldn’t move,” Harley blurts out, clearly frustrated that her best friend is downplaying this. “Don’t pretend like that’s nothing, Haven.”

“He grabbed you?” I growl, my body shaking as my eyes burn into Haven’s. “Tell me. Now.”

When Haven stands there, frozen, and everyone else is quiet, I move onto Harley, hoping she’ll tell me everything, even though it’s so fucking hard to hear. Her eyes widen as she looks at me, eyebrows shifting together like she feels bad that she said too much. But eventually, she looks down and nods.