Page 95 of Catcher

That hope doesn’t feel like a setup, and wanting someone this badly feels more terrifying than any war I’ve ever walked into.

22

RUBY

Several weeks pass, and my body is changing a little more each day.

At fourteen weeks, my stomach has finally started to round out into a small baby bump. My morning sickness has eased up, too, leaving me feeling almost… normal.

The bruises from the attack are long gone, and the aches have faded. But the situation that put me in the crosshairs still lingers. The club still has my brother tucked away, and the guys still run security like they’re waiting for the next shoe to drop. Whoever wants Robby and what he owes is still out there, and that means the threat to me hasn’t disappeared. What’s worse is that I can tell it’s eating at Catcher the most. It’s the not knowing, no face to put to it, and no target to hunt down and erase. Just a shadow that keeps circling my life. Catcher’s solution is simple. If the danger is still out there, then I’m not going to be out of his sight, or if he’s not around, one of the other guys plays babysitter. He’s even roped my dad into watching over me on rare occasions. Somewhere along the way, staying over turned into Catcher basically moving in.

His boots sit by my door, his clothes are hanging in my closet, and his toothbrush sits next to mine on the bathroom counter. If I need to leave the house, Catcher is at my side. When we come back home, he checks my locks twice, even when he watches me lock them. If he has to leave, he makes sure someone else is close, and when he comes back, the first thing he does is sweep the house with that flat, lethal calm as if he expects to find a man in my closet.

With each passing day, he grows more and more restless because whoever is after my brother hasn’t made a move, and Catcher doesn’t know how to protect me from a threat that refuses to show itself, which is exactly why, when Promise, London, and Sadie showed up at my place with greasy paper bags from my favorite Cajun place, I practically jumped out of my own skin with excitement. The first couple of months of my pregnancy were brutal, but with morning sickness practically gone, I can enjoy my favorite foods again. That and I need some girl time. Catcher sensed it too because the second the girls showed up, he disappeared out the back door, and a few minutes later, I heard the lawn mower crank.

Now the four of us are sprawled out in my living room with empty food cartons and full bellies. The television is on mute, my hair is twisted up in a messy knot, and my bump presses softly against my leggings’ waistband.

“So, how are things with Catcher?” London asks with a glint in her eye.

I shrug. “Good.”

Promise’s brows lift. “Good? Just good?”

Sadie tosses a skeptical glance my way.

“Okay, yes,” I admit. “He’s practically moved in, and we have kind of fallen into a routine. Things are good. We’ve moved past all the bullshit from before, and Catcher has been great. He took care of me after I was released from the hospital, takes me to my doctors’ appointments, and we go grocery shopping together.” I shrug again.

“Catcher and I get closer every day. He sleeps in my bed every night, he’s attentive in a way that still surprises me, and quietly makes sure I eat.” I smile. “He’s always looking for a reason to touch me. His hand at my lower back when I walk past him, his thumb brushing my wrist when he hands me a plate of food, his palm spread warm and steady over my bump when we’re lounging on the couch. He doesn’t pretend he doesn’t feel things anymore, either. If he wants to kiss me, he does. If he wants me close, he pulls me in. No hesitation.”

London sits up from her spot on the floor. “But?”

I throw myself back against the couch. “Don’t get me wrong,” I say, lowering my voice so that Catcher won’t hear me. “Things between us are… amazing.”

Promise’s mouth curves. “But?”

I huff out a breath. “But he won’t… take it further.”

My friends stare back at me, and one by one, they all share the same grin.

“He sleeps in my bed every night,” I go on quickly, because once I start, it all spills out. “He kisses me like he’s starving. He touches me constantly. He tells me I’m beautiful even when I’m in sweatpants and my hair looks similar to a rat’s nest. But when things start to get hot and heavy, he stops. Like there’s an invisible line he refuses to cross.”

London’s eyes narrow as if she’s doing math. “So, what’s the problem?”

Heat climbs up my neck. “The problem is my libido has… shot through the roof. Like, overnight.” I press the back of my hand to my forehead. “I’ve tried to give him hints. Subtle ones and not-so-subtle ones. I’ve basically been waving a neon sign.”

Promise bites her bottom lip to keep from laughing. “And he still won’t?”

“He still won’t,” I confirm. “He acts like I’m made of glass. Like, if he touches me the wrong way, I’m going to break. I’m pregnant, and I’ve been through a lot, but I’m not broken, for crying out loud!” I throw my hands up in frustration—sexual frustration.

Sadie sets her drink down on the coffee table. “Have you tried saying the words? Like, out loud?”

I’m sure my face reflects how horrified I look at the thought. “No! I can’t do that.”

Promise lets out a quiet laugh.

London leans back against the couch, eyes full of mirth. “Jump him.”

Sadie snorts while I look at London as though she’s lost her mind. “What?”