Page 44 of Saving The Shortstop

The whole way home, I debated what to do tonight. I can’t sleep on that blow-up mattress the night before a game. But I still don’t feel right leaving Haven alone either. Maybe Tabor really didn’t sneak into her room. Either way, I don’t trust him.

Crouching down, I slide my arms underneath her and lift her up. She may be feeling better, but she’s still not one hundred percent, even if she thinks she is.

Walking into her room, I don’t set her down right away because, as fucked up as it is, having her this close, with her heart beating close to mine, settles me after I’ve been a wreck all day over everything going on. So, for a few minutes, I hold her close, breathing in her scent.

Here I was, thinking Tabor was a creep for sniffing her and I’m doing the same fucking thing.

When she squirms a bit, I know it’s time to put her in bed before I look like a creeper. And as I set her down, she cracks her eyes open and looks up at me.

“Hi,” she whispers.

“Hey,” I reply gently.

“I feel like all you do lately is carry me around places,” she says, smiling. “It’s kind of embarrassing for me. Also, I’m not light.”

“You’re perfect,” I say, and right away, the back of my neck grows hot because I didn’t mean to blurt that out.

She’s always joked that she’s got thick thighs, but even though I won’t repeat it, I meant what I said. She is perfect.

As if she can read my discomfort, she snuggles in slightly, ignoring what I just said.

“You have a game tomorrow, so you need to not be on watch patrol all night and get a good night’s rest,” she says softly. “I’ll be fine. And I won’t take no for an answer.”

“I’m staying, Short,” I murmur, knowing she’s right. I should be in my bed, at my own place. But there’s something keeping me here. And yeah, I know it’s to keep her safe. But also, I’ve gotten used to going to bed near her—even if it’s only in the same room. I’m not ready to leave her.

Keeping her safe is the greatest privilege I’ve ever been given. I’m not about to fuck it up now.

“Fine then.” She lifts a brow before she sleepily sits up in bed. “If you’re going to stay, and you don’t want to sleep in the same bed, I’ll sleep on the air mattress.”

“Haven, no,” I say, but it’s too late. She’s out of bed and walking over to the shitty air mattress that takes up too much damn room in here.

Plopping down, she starts to snuggle in before she frowns. “This wasn’t like … in the bed of your truck or something.” She cringes. “Like … where you’d take girls to bang them.”

Amused that she really thinks I’d go through that much work to put an air mattress in the back of my truck just to fuck some girl, I cock my head to the side. “Would it bother you if it was?”

“No,” she blurts out, and I know she’s lying.

For a few seconds, I just toy with her, not giving the answer she wants to hear because she won’t admit the truth—that it would bug the shit out of her.

This is coming from a guy who, when I was fifteen, activated the fire alarms at her house because while her parents were out to dinner, she was in her room with a boy she snuck in, and I couldn’t play football on the lawn with Noah, too busy imagining what they were doing.

To this day, no one knows I did that.

“I bought the mattress the day I brought it here,” I finally say. “So no, Short. I haven’t banged anyone on it.”

She yawns, a satisfied little grin on her lips before she snuggles her cheek to the pillow. “I didn’t care either way, QB,” she lies. “Good night.”

“Good night, Haven.” I plop myself down onto the bed, knowing that just like the other nights, there’s no way I’ll be able to go right to sleep with her being in the same room, wearing those tiny shorts and oversized T-shirt. No way in hell.

When I can’t sleep after nearly two hours of listening to Haven snore—because despite what she thinks, she does snore—I creep out of bed and go to the kitchen to get some water.

The house is silent and mostly dark, although I swear half the girls who live here don’t know how to turn a light off—Haven included. Not only is the bathroom light on, but so are the ones in the living room and kitchen. But with the eeriness of how quiet it is, what I don’t expect is to see Lilly sitting at the kitchen counter, eating a bowl of ice cream.

When she hears the sound of my footsteps, she quickly cranes her neck to look who’s coming. Once she sees it’s me, she glances at her ice cream again before eyeing me over.

“Can’t sleep?” she says, bashfully bringing a spoonful to her lips.

“Nah, not really.” I sigh, walking to the refrigerator and taking out a bottle of water. Once I close the fridge, I lean on the other side of the counter, facing her. “You?”