Page 71 of Saving The Shortstop

And when I’m almost there … that’s when a police officer stops beside me.

My steps slow, images of my father’s blood on the floor assaulting my mind, and before I can stop myself, I’m puking all over the road. Over and over, my stomach roils, making me dry-heave because there’s not enough food in my stomach to actually throw up.

No matter what I do, I can’t get rid of the image of his body becoming still before he fell onto the floor. And as the cop runs toward me, I scream, just wanting it all to stop.

“Dallas!” the sound of Haven’s voice has me more confused. Why is she here? How is she here?

Abruptly, my eyes pop open and I shoot up in the bed. I’m covered in a layer of sweat, and my heart is pounding in my chest so fast, it thumps in my ears.

Haven is straddling me, her hands on my cheeks.

“Dallas,” she cries, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Are you okay? You were screaming in your sleep.”

I stare up at her, unable to talk or catch my breath after the nightmare that’s actually a flashback more than anything else. A flashback to the day my parents died. The day I ended up in foster care. At least I didn’t have to relive the part where I rode in the back of the cop car, and I heard the scanner say murder-suicide, and two people were dead. When I think back to that day, I know exactly why my mom made me leave. At the very least—no matter how much she did wrong, she didn’t make me watch both her and my father die.

It’s been so long since I’ve been haunted by that dream. Yet tonight of all nights, it came for me. And as much as I hate to blame Haven, I know the reason why I had it is because once again, I’m reminded that something is wrong with me.

“You’re safe,” she whispers, wrapping her arms around me and holding me tight. “You’re safe now.”

I don’t talk about my past much—if ever. It’s too dark and too fucking sad to let into my present, but Haven has an idea of what I’ve gone through. So right now, I’m sure she knows why I was screaming.

I don’t say anything to her. And luckily, she doesn’t make me talk either. Instead, she just holds me while my body continues to tremble.

For once in my life, I don’t pull away. I can’t. Because in this moment, she’s saving me.

Even though this was all her fault.

THIRTY

DALLAS

Even after nearly twenty minutes, my heart is still pounding in my chest. A mixture of my father’s cruel words and my mother’s apology runs through my brain with a constant image of the moment his heart stopped beating before he fell nearly on top of me. For a while, Memphis had me talk to a therapist. But the dream I just had? That’s something I never said out loud. Obviously, the lady knew—it had to have been in my chart or something because when I was adopted, the details went with me, I’m sure. But she never brought it up, and neither did I.

Haven’s here, beside me. She’s lying still, with her arm around me tightly, yet I wish she wasn’t. I don’t want her to see this side of me—the broken side. The side that can’t be fixed because in nightmares and deep-rooted memories, my past will always find a way to haunt me.

If she knows I’m stupid, and she knows I’m still the same fucked up, shattered kid I was when I first met her, why would she want to stick around? She pities me, I’m sure. And I fucking hate that.

When I feel her shift slightly, likely looking at me to see if I’m awake, I close my eyes and lie still, making sure my breathing is even. I don’t want to talk about anything right now. All I want to do is fall asleep, hoping like hell for no more nightmares tonight.

I love her. I love her more than I could ever love anything or anyone else.

Including myself.

And I guess that’s the problem. I fucking hate who I am right now. I’m scared that one day, she will too. And if I give her enough reasons, like how much of a dick I was tonight, she’ll have no choice.

HAVEN

His eyes may be closed, but I know he isn’t sleeping. His body is too tense, but I’m not going to call him out on it because right now, he gets to decide what makes him feel better after whatever happened in his nightmare.

I had just come to bed after only watching part of the movie and deciding to turn it off. My eyes were growing heavy as I curled up beside him, and even though my mind wouldn’t quiet and all I could think about was how we left things before he went to bed, I began to doze off.

At first, it was subtle. His body movements were only a little jumpy and restless. Soon though, he began to cry, and his entire face crumpled. I reached over to wake him, wanting to pull him from whatever terror he was facing, but that’s when he let out a blood-chilling scream.

I shook him awake, crying right along with him because that was the saddest sound I’d ever heard come from anyone.

I can feel him getting further away, even as I lie on this bed, holding him close. My biggest fears are coming true—he’s pushing me away. I knew this would eventually happen; I knew him enough to have seen it coming. But this soon? No way.

He’s about to find something out. And that something is … I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving him to fight his demons alone, even if, in the morning light, that’s what he tries to do. We said we loved each other, and I meant it.