Page 80 of Saving The Shortstop

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, sounding insulted. A tone I’ve rarely heard on him.

I’m quiet for a moment, not really sure how to go about saying what I mean without hurting his feelings. He may be the happiest-go-lucky dude, but he’s sensitive too.

I know what type of girls my best friend likes. The ones who leave the next morning without being asked. The ones who use him just as much as he uses them. He likes a woman who’s okay with him calling her when he’s drunk, even if he hasn’t called in months.

He’s … a bit of a playboy on campus, but he has the biggest heart. Still, he isn’t what Gigi is looking for. That much I know.

“She isn’t going to be the type to just hook up, Noah,” I say, shrugging. “I don’t know her all that well, but the time I’ve spent at The Nest? Well, I know that much about her at least.”

I swear his head almost hangs and his shoulders slump slightly. Finally, he sets his water bottle down and plasters on his usual shit-eating grin, though it’s less broad now.

“All right, enough serious talk. Let’s go finish this practice,” he says, smacking my arm. “Try not to suck.”

“Fuck off,” I mumble, rolling my eyes at him but chuckling.

We walk back toward the field, well aware that the teammates I scolded minutes ago are trailing behind with their tails between their legs.

Good, maybe next time they’ll take their spot seriously.

HAVEN

I dress quickly, knowing I probably should blow my hair dry so that it’ll look good tomorrow too, but I’m too damn lazy to actually do it. Glancing at my watch, I have an hour until I need to meet Dallas for dinner, but before that, I’m in desperate need of a run to the sporting goods store for some new turf shoes because mine are so worn out that it’s actually pathetic.

As much as he rolled his eyes for this, Dallas also smiled when I told him that I wanted to take him out to dinner tonight to celebrate him taking the first step to set up testing to see if he qualifies for any accommodations. I just wanted to make sure I kept it a very positive thing and remind him how proud I am of him. So many of his self-esteem issues when it comes to his ability to learn come from his childhood. I hate that his father made him feel like he isn’t smart and question his own abilities, but I’m going to do everything I can to make sure he knows that he is intelligent and capable. And that it’s okay to need some extra help because not everyone learns the same way. If everyone did, how boring would that be? Because at the end of the day, it’s the out-of-the-box thinkers who are pushing boundaries and making names for themselves.

And as nerdy as it may sound, I can’t wait to see how great Dallas does once he finds the learning plan that he should have had years ago.

After brushing my hair out, I squirt some product into my palm before I drag my fingers through and scrunch it. I sort of look like a drowned rat, but it’s fine. Next, I apply a quick layer of moisturizer, a touch of bronzer, a few sweeps of my favorite mascara, and complete this I am rushed look by smearing gloss over my lips as a finishing touch.

Looking at myself once more, I shrug. “That’ll do it, I guess.”

Rushing around the room, I find my phone and my Birkenstocks, but before I can turn to leave, the sound of the door gently closing has the hair on the back of my neck standing up because no one else is home. At least, last I knew, I was alone.

Whirling around, I don’t even know the feeling that’s washing over my entire being when I’m met face to face with Tabor. He leans with his back against the door, almost as a silent way of telling me I’m trapped.

“You look so pretty when you’re fresh out of the shower, baby,” he says, his eyes roaming my body and making my stomach hurt. “It’s almost as if you knew I was coming to see you.”

Unhurriedly, and not wanting to tip him off, my eyes peer to the side, looking at the window to gauge how many steps away it is. But of course, I’m too fucking obvious, and when my eyes move back to him, his are narrowed.

“Don’t even think about trying to run, Haven,” he demands darkly, reaching into the front pocket of his hoodie and pulling it back, just enough for me to see that he has a gun. “The only way you’re getting out of here is with me.”

My teeth chatter together, and tears sting the backs of my eyes. I’m a brave person—at least, I think I am. Right now, though, I’m so scared that I feel like my body is stuck in one spot.

He has a gun. I’m so screwed.

“So grab a bag and pack your shit,” he commands me coldly, but when I don’t move—because truthfully, I can’t—he pulls the gun out a little more. “I said grab a bag and pack your fucking shit, Haven. I’m not playing around. You’ve made a fool out of me already, so I suggest you listen and follow along like a good girl unless you want this to end badly.”

A whimper slips from my lips, and even though it feels like my feet are in quicksand, step by step, I walk to where my suitcase is sitting in the corner of my room and grab it. With shaky hands, I put it on the bed, but once again, I freeze.

If I go with him … will anyone find me? Will I ever see my family again?

Will I ever see Dallas again?

That last thought alone rips a sob from my throat because he needs me. After everything he went through with his parents as a kid, I can’t bear the thought of him thinking I just … left him one day.

Suddenly, the barrel of the gun is pressing into my back, and his chin is pressing into my shoulder.

“Hurry the fuck up, Haven,” Tabor spits. When he inhales against me sharply, I want to throw up. “It’s going to be so good for us to be away from everyone else, baby. I promise.” The gun remains pressed into my back, and he speaks against my ear. “Just throw some shit into the suitcase so we can go, and I won’t hurt you, okay?”