Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
MIGUEL
Gray morning leaks through the curtains, washing over the hotel room in slow ripples. Caleb’s still asleep beside me, curled into the sheets, the curve of his bare shoulder just visible in the half-light. He looks so peaceful when he sleeps, his mouth slack, lashes resting against flushed skin.
I prop myself on one elbow and just watch him for a moment, there’s a faint bruise on the side of his neck—mine—and the sight of it makes me smile. A reminder that last night was real. That we made it through the fire, the noise, and the chaos and ended up here.
He stirs a little, mumbling something in his sleep, hand twitching toward where I was lying. I press a kiss to his shoulder before slipping out of bed.
It’s still early. Maybe five thirty. He deserves to sleep in.
I dress quietly, pulling on jeans and the same hoodie I wore to the game. My body’s sore from a combination of lack of sleep, travel, and too much adrenaline. Still, I feel lighter, like everything’s a little easier to handle today.
Outside, the city’s waking up. The air’s got that early-morning chill from the Pacific Ocean nearby, sharp enough to make me pull the hood up over my head.
The smell of coffee and fried dough drifts through the block, guiding me toward a little cart on the corner.
The guy behind it is setting out trays of pan dulce—conchas, cuernitos, and empanadas that are sure to melt in your mouth.
“Buenos días,” I greet, smiling as I hand over a few bills. “Dos conchas, rosa y chocolate, por favor.”
He nods. “?Para llevar?”
“Sí, gracias.” I add two cups of horchata to the order, thinking of Caleb’s face every time he gets it. Like it’s his favorite thing on the planet.
It feels good doing something like this. I think of his dad bringing my mom pan dulce when we were kids. I used to wake up to them dancing in the kitchen, my mom smiling, and his dad looking at her like she was his whole world. I get it now.
As I’m heading back toward the hotel, I catch some movement near the side entrance—a flash of long blonde hair, a girl tugging a jacket around her shoulders. She’s whispering something over her shoulder, soft and nervous.
“I’ll text you when I’m back.”
The voice that answers is familiar.
“Drive safe.”
Too familiar.
Anderson.
Of course it’s him.
He steps out into the light, hair mussed, wearing sweats and a self-satisfied grin that makes me want to laugh. He doesn’t see me right away, too busy watching her walk away but when he does, his posture stiffens.
“Good morning,” he mutters, clearing his throat.
I take a slow sip of my drink and tilt my head. “Yes, it is.”
For a second, we just stand there. The silence stretches, heavy with the memory of the parking lot and the way he hit the ground like a little bitch. I should probably let it go. But I don’t feel like being the bigger man today.
I click my tongue. “Guess you just have a thing for blondes, huh?”
Anderson’s jaw flexes, eyes flicking toward me. Then he smirks, all false confidence. “Guess so.”
I arch a brow. “Figures.”
He shrugs like he doesn’t care, but the twitch in his jaw says otherwise. “You came to watch Caleb play?”
I nod.
“You stayed the night too, I guess.”
He looks jealous. It’s not a good look.
“Guess you could say that,” I answer easily, balancing the bag of pastries in one hand. “You know, making sure my boyfriend is taken care of.”
His smirk falters for half a second before he forces it back. “Right. He… played pretty good last night.”
“Yeah,” I say, stepping closer, just enough to let my presence sink in. “He’s been happy lately. Funny how that helps.”
Anderson’s eyes drop, guilt flickering there before he hides it under another smirk. “Well… good for him.”
“Good for the team.”
I let that hang there and watch as he swallows hard. Then motion toward the lobby door. “You have a good morning, Anderson.”
He nods stiffly, mutters something under his breath, and heads the opposite way.
Watching him go for a moment, I end up shaking my head and muttering. “Pendejo.”
I shift the bag in my hands and push through the lobby doors, already thinking of Caleb, how he’ll look when he wakes up, messy-haired and sleepy, and the way his voice will rasp when he says my name.
I can already picture the smile he’s going to give me.
Back upstairs the smell of coffee drifts from the lobby all the way into the hallway. The bag’s still warm in my hands, sugar and cinnamon clinging to the air.
I balance the cups of horchata as I fish for the keycard, trying not to spill anything. The door clicks open, and the first thing I see is Caleb, sitting up against the headboard, hair sticking up in every direction, one eye barely open.
He blinks at me, voice rough with sleep. “You left me.”
“Just for a bit, hermoso.” I grin, stepping inside. “You didn’t even notice. You were dead to the world.”
“I did too notice,” he mumbles, rubbing at his face. “You were warm.”
I set the drinks and bag on the table. “Got you pan dulce and horchata. Best I could find this side of Santa Cruz.”
That wakes him up faster than anything. He perks up, eyes lighting with that sleepy, boyish excitement. “No way. You found conchas?”
“Dude, we’re in San Diego. Of course I found them. Two, actually,” I say, holding up the paper bag like a prize. “Pink and chocolate.”
He laughs, soft and low. I sit beside him and hand him the cup. He takes a long drink, licking cinnamon from his lip before looking up at me.
“You spoil me.”
“What can I say? I like seeing you happy.”
The hardness fades from him, replaced by a warmth so subtle it aches. He takes a bite of the pink concha, crumbs scattering down the sheet, and hums in approval. “God, that’s good.”
I stretch back against the headboard, sipping my own drink. “You earned it. You killed it last night.”
He snorts. “Pretty sure I just got lucky with that last shot.”
“Mierda. You’ve been putting in the work, Caleb. That wasn’t luck.”
He chews, eyes on me like he wants to argue, then lets it go. His leg brushes mine under the sheets. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Enough.” I watch him, how the sunlight catches on his skin, and the slight marks along his neck that turn my mouth dry. “Had to get up before I got ideas.”
He smirks. “You always have ideas.”
“You’re not wrong,” I admit, sliding a piece of chocolate pan dulce his way. “But I figured breakfast before round two was the gentlemanly thing to do.”
Caleb leans over, lips brushing the corner of my mouth in a lazy kiss. “You’re a menace.”
“And you love me still.”
He hums, resting his forehead against mine. “Yeah,” he whispers, looking out the window. “I really do.”
The sun’s barely up and the sky’s overcast when we step outside, the parking lot slick from the sprinklers running.
The bus engine rumbles low, a steady hum beneath the chatter of players loading up gear and snacks.
Caleb’s duffel hangs from his shoulder, hoodie strings pulled tight, his hair still damp from our uneventful morning shower.
I can tell he doesn’t want to go. The look’s written all over his face—soft, reluctant, and a little pouty around the edges.
My little brat.
He toes at the wet asphalt, glancing toward the bus. “I’d rather ride back with you,” he mutters.
I grin, shifting the cup of coffee in my hand. “Nah, go be with the team, baby. Camaraderie and all that shit. I’ll be right behind you.”
That earns me a small laugh, the kind that curls at the corners of his mouth. “Or maybe it’ll be me behind you.”
I choke on the sip cup of coffee I swiped from the lobby, half-laughing, half-coughing. “Cabrón, you’ve been spending too much time around me.”
“Guess it’s rubbing off.” He winks, and I swear the smugness could light up the entire damn lot.
A few of his teammates glance our way, not exactly subtle about it. Caleb’s standing tall, no shame, no hiding.
Fuck, I’m proud of him.
Maybe this is his way of working up to coming out to his dad?
One of the guys leans out the bus door and yells, “Hey Burton! Would ya kiss your boyfriend so we can get the fuck outta here?”
The entire team bursts out laughing.
Caleb flips him off without missing a beat, then looks back at me with that daring little smirk that always precedes trouble.
“You heard the man,” I tease, stepping closer.
“Guess I did.”
He drops his bag, grips my hoodie, and pulls me in. The kiss isn’t soft, it’s hungry, sure, a little reckless—but it’s real. A full-mouth, eyes-closed, world-falling-away kind of kiss.
The noise around us spikes. Someone whistles. Someone else shouts, “God damn!”
Caleb pulls back, cheeks flushed, chest heaving like he just sprinted a mile. “Holy shit, that was a lot,” he says, voice shaking with adrenaline. “I can’t believe we did that in front of everyone.”
I can’t help it—I laugh and grab his wrist, tug him into a hug, tucking his face against my shoulder. “Now everyone knows you’re mine,” I whisper against his ear.
He exhales, a shaky little sound that melts into my chest. “Yeah,” he murmurs, so soft I almost don’t catch it. “And that you’re mine, too.”
I hold him longer than I should, then force myself to let go. “Go on, pretty boy. You’re gonna make me look like the clingy one.”
He grins, snatching his bag off the ground. “You are the clingy one.”
“Only with you.”
He backs away, eyes never leaving mine. The morning light hits him just right, sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder, the faintest hint of a hickey still visible on his neck and I swear I’ve never seen anything more perfect.
He’s halfway up the bus steps when he turns and mouths, Te amo.
I don’t even think before I say it back, low and certain. “Yo también, mi vida.”
The door closes. The bus pulls away, tires hissing against wet pavement, and I stand there until it’s out of sight, the ghost of his kiss still burning on my mouth.
The highway hums beneath the tires, steady and rhythmic. I’ve got one hand on the wheel, the other wrapped around my lukewarm coffee. The sky’s still gray, the coast fogged in. Caleb’s bus is already ahead of me, and I already miss the sound of him.
My phone buzzes in the console. His text comes through the speakers.
Caleb
You looked so hot this morning.
I grin and tap the voice-to-text.
“Not as hot as you, pretty boy.”
A second later—
Caleb
Can we go back in time? I wish we would have done it in the shower.
I chuckle, shaking my head. “You wouldn’t have made it onto that bus if we did, baby.”
Three dots. Then…
Caleb
I wish I could just ride with you. Then we could spend more time together.
I smirk. “You mean you want me as your personal chauffeur and then use it as an excuse to fuck in hotel rooms?”
Caleb
It’s like you read my mind.
“Don’t tempt me, baby.”
There’s a pause, then one more text.
Caleb
Hey Miggy?
“Yeah, baby?”
Caleb
Thanks for coming. Seriously. It meant a lot.
I don’t answer right away. “Whenever I can, know I’ll be there. Right behind you, supporting you in the stands.”
Another buzz—
Caleb
Behind me? I think next time I’ll be behind you.
I laugh out loud, the sound echoing through the truck.
God, I’m in deep.