Page 54 of Saving The Shortstop

“I went to see him; I was so fucking pissed and ready to end it right then. But he—” He grows silent, flinching, and I know the pain I’m feeling … he’s feeling it too. “He started saying he had pictures of Haven. Ones that he could release to the world and ruin her life if we told you about it.” I know he’s talking to my dad now. “I wanted to kill him. I wanted to strangle him with my own two hands, but when he said pictures, I just … I didn’t know what to do.”

My dad stands up quickly, veins bulging in his neck and fists down at his sides.

“Does he?” he growls, shaking. “Does he have fucking pictures of my daughter?”

“Not anymore,” Dallas utters, looking down. “But yeah … he did.” His head hangs. “I was hoping he was bluffing. Was hoping he wouldn’t be that fucking low to take pictures of someone while she was asleep. But he was.”

I can’t look at my parents right now, so I keep my eyes on Dallas. My mom cries quietly, and my dad paces for a moment before he stops again.

“Did you delete them?” he asks Dallas.

“No, a friend of Haven’s did,” he utters. “I didn’t look at them or anything, and she has sworn not to tell a soul, and I believe her that she won’t. The only thing I know, because she told me, was that Haven was asleep, which means she didn’t give him permission to take them.” He turns his head toward mine, his eyes misty. “I’m so sorry, Short. I’m so fucking sorry that someone you trusted did that to you.”

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” my dad roars, and finally I dare to look his way.

He’s broken. He’s angry, but he’s sad and tortured. My whole life, he’s protected me, but he couldn’t protect me against this because I put myself in the position to be hurt. I trusted someone I shouldn’t have, and that’s on me, not him.

“There’s more,” Dallas whispers. “This morning, I found Haven’s Jeep with a brick through the windshield and something spray painted on the side of it.”

“What did it say,” my dad snarls through gritted teeth. “What. The. Fuck. Did. He. Write?”

“Slut,” I whisper, looking down at my hands. “He wrote slut in red spray paint.”

“Motherfucker,” my dad roars before he starts toward the front door.

Dallas is up and out of the chair within a second, chasing behind him.

“Coach, stop!” he hollers, and I don’t even have the energy to chase after my dad because I’m falling apart.

My mom rushes to me, pushing my chair out and kneeling to wrap her arms around me tightly.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl,” she cries. “I am so, so sorry.”

“You can’t go and beat the shit out of him—you’re his coach!” Dallas is yelling now. “I’ll go find him. Not you.”

Now I’m pushing my mom out of the way and running toward them.

“No!” I wail, running between Dallas and my dad. “You aren’t going to go to him. That’s what he probably wants.” My chest is heaving now. “He’s not right in the head, Dallas. And if you go there, I don’t know what he’ll do.”

His eyes are wild now, reminding me of the night years ago when he looked like he might kill someone. I don’t recognize this side of Dallas, but I refuse to let someone like Tabor get him into a mess.

“I kept it together because I didn’t know if he had those pictures or not, and I was scared he’d use them. He doesn’t have them now. He can’t hurt you,” Dallas utters bitterly. “I can’t let him get away with what he did, Haven. I’d never forgive myself for that.”

As he begins to stalk toward the door, I jump in front, pushing him back.

“I’ll tell the police what happened,” I yell out, crying harder. “They can deal with him.” I put my hands on his face, cupping his cheeks. “But please … you and my dad … please, just don’t go trying to find him.” I look over at my dad. “I’m begging you. I’m scared of him. Let the police handle it.”

Dallas is rigid, and his eyes are dark and angry. I look from him to my dad before I finally drop my hands from his face and step in front of my father.

“I can’t let you ruin your career for a mistake I made,” I whisper. “And I can’t risk Dallas getting hurt trying to protect me.”

His eyes float along my face. He’s in pain, and I hate that.

“If the police get involved, people are going to find out the truth,” he says, his voice and expression softening.

“I know,” I choke out. “And if that helps keep him from tormenting someone else one day, then I can live with that for a while.” I nod, looking past him at the clock. “You have a game tonight. Let’s go to the police station and get it over with.”

I know there’s nothing my dad would love more than to beat the hell out of Tabor. No one is more protective of his family than he is. Well, and Dallas. But looking at me, he knows that isn’t what I want. So finally, he sighs, nodding slowly.