Page 74 of Saving The Shortstop

Her brows knit together before her lips are on mine. She kisses me passionately before burying her face into my neck.

“And all these years, I just thought you were a jerk”—lifting her head again, she winks—“when really, you were just head over heels in love with me. I get it now.”

I roll my eyes but grin. Not long ago, I would have told her she was crazy. But now, why even bother when it’s the truth.

I have always had a soft spot for Haven King. Even if she’s always been a pain in my ass.

THIRTY-TWO

HAVEN

Outside, the rain pelts against the indoor fieldhouse during practice. It’s one of those cold, gloomy days where everyone seems to be moving a bit slower.

Without saying anything, Coach hits the ball toward me, testing to see if I’m ready. I hop slightly on my feet before charging the ball, knowing when I get it, I have to throw to first base.

Putting my glove down, I just miss the damn thing, and it goes between my legs. A rookie mistake. One I haven’t made in forever, yet I just did.

Coach is quickly shaking her head, looking at me with frustration.

“King!” She practically growls my name. “Those long hops are usually your jam!” she hollers, the bat resting against her shoulder. “You need to get it together! I don’t know where your mind is at, but it’s not here.”

All my teammates look anywhere but at me because when one of us gets our ass chewed out, it’s just as embarrassing to be a bystander as it is to be the one in trouble. Harley got yelled at the other day because she overthrew second base two times in a row, which never happens, and I wanted to find a table or chair to crawl under because Harley was clearly upset, and Coach didn’t give a shit—she just wanted to get through to her.

Harley also never gets in trouble though, which makes it ten times worse.

“Sorry, Coach,” I apologize, cringing because she’s right. Since freshman year, I’ve been trusted to play shortstop—one of the most dynamic positions on the field. Fielding has always been what makes me happy, and I love challenging hits. In fact, the harder to field, the more I typically step up. Unfortunately, today, my mind and body don’t seem to be aligned.

I haven’t physically seen Dallas since he dropped me off a few days ago. We’ve texted briefly since, but today has been complete silence. I know whatever he went through the other night was hard. Even the sound of him screaming in his sleep has haunted me since, so I can’t imagine how he’s feeling. And while I may be giving him a few days of space, I’m not going to let him continue to pull away. So he can have the day today—I know he was picking his parents up at the airport—but if he doesn’t show up to my brother’s birthday tonight, I’m going to hunt him down and force him to let me in.

When Coach throws a ball in the air, nailing it toward me, this time, I know I can’t mess it up. Diving to my left, I catch it perfectly before I get onto my knee and fire it toward first base, making the perfect throw.

“That’s more like it, kid,” Coach yells, bobbing her head up and down. “It’s all right to make a mistake, but it’s important not to repeat that same mistake on the next play.”

I wipe the back of my hand against my forehead. It may be in the forties and cold out today, but inside this field house, practicing like we have for nearly two hours, I quickly overheat.

I try to focus on practice and get my mind off Dallas, but it’s not easy. Now I understand why, until Harley fell in love with Cane, she had a no dating rule. Because it turns out, when you find the right one … he can be a little freaking distracting.

Hopefully soon this will be behind us though, and he’ll stop being so stubborn. Even if I have to pull out all the stops to make that happen.

DALLAS

After we get out of the car, my dad and I head to the tailgate of my truck before each grabbing a suitcase or two as my mom looks on.

After practice this morning, I had to go to the airport to pick them up. They’ve been gone a few weeks now, and while they’ve been away, Haven and I have sort of made this place our own. Though now that they’re here, we won’t be doing that anymore.

“I’ve been back in New England less than two hours and I’m already ready to go back to the warmth.” My mom shivers, walking into the house. “Why do we live here?”

“Been sayin’ that for years, babe,” Dad drawls, hitting the button to close the hatch before he glances at me. “Yet, when I mention moving somewhere warm, she says this is home.”

“What was that?” Mom calls out, almost reaching the front doorstep.

“Nothing. I said you’re absolutely right,” he calls back, giving me a look.

Before we can take off with the bags across the driveway, he slaps my back. “Good to see you, D. How are you, kid? You barely answered our texts.”

“I know, sorry,” I say, cringing. “Just been busy, that’s all.”

“So I’ve heard,” he drawls slowly, flashing me a knowing look. “Took you two long enough, didn’t it?”