Chapter 38 #2
“Try not to sleep in,” was Dante’s parting shot. I flipped him off and closed the door behind them.
“Hey, baby girl,” Hadley greeted Milly. I heard the cat hiss. “No, no, Milly, no scratching! I’m letting you out, you obnoxious diva!”
I turned to watch the three-legged ball of fury streak across the room, and Hadley slumped back on her heels as her cat hid herself under the bed.
Hadley looked up at me. “She doesn’t like the crate.”
“Mmhmm. I see that.” I helped her to her feet and slipped my arms around her. “How are you?”
She tilted her head back. “I’m okay. How was practice, really?”
“Tense,” I admitted. “We sat there like second teamers; the rest of the squad didn’t know if we were being disciplined, or if it was a part of spring training to psych them out.” I pulled her closer. “To be honest, the latter was quite funny, and Dante and I let them think it.”
“Noah?”
“Furious. No one looked his way after getting glared at the first time.”
She made a noise of sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
“You should be. What were you thinking, going digging again?”
Hadley pushed back, but I didn’t loosen my grip. “This is my job. You guys overreacted.”
“You could have been caught. You think that was Spence overreacting? That was nothing. That was barely a reaction.”
“He was mean to Savvy.”
“Yeah, well, she’s his girl. He expected it of you, he didn’t think she would go along with it.” I saw a thousand arguments crowd her expression and decided to cut her off. “It was a good idea, but not today. Poor timing.”
Hadley considered it. “Fine,” she conceded. “But if he does it again, I will plant a dead fish in his closet.”
I stared at her. “Jesus, Hadley, that’s just deranged.”
She gave me a wicked grin. “I’ll show you deranged.”
I laughed, low and helpless, and finally loosened my grip so she could move. She leaned back slightly. She was still smiling — bright, unapologetic, a little wild — and it hit me, suddenly and sharply, how easy it felt to be like this with her.
“Threat noted,” I said. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
She reached up and smoothed a hand over my chest, fingers light, exploratory, like she was still figuring out what was allowed. “You already are on my bad side,” she said sweetly. “You’re just lucky I like you.”
That had an effect on me. Not the physical kind of effect — the other kind. The kind that settled in my chest and stayed there, like warmth spreading over your body after a cold day outside.
“Come on,” I said quietly. “Bed. Before you start plotting marine-based revenge.”
She didn’t argue. She let me tug her with me, let me pull her down beside me, both of us still fully dressed, limbs tangling without urgency. She tucked herself against my side like it was the most natural thing in the world, her head resting on my shoulder, her leg draped over mine.
This — this — felt new. Not desperate, and not explosive.
Just . . . good.
“I don’t hate this,” she murmured after a moment.
I smiled into her hair. “High praise.”
She tipped her head back to look at me, her expression softer now, curiosity replacing mischief. “I don’t know where this is going,” she said honestly.
“Me neither.”
She studied my face, like she was checking for bravado, then nodded.
“Okay.” She continued to watch me. “I’m not good about talking about feelings,” she said quietly.
“I’m going to guess you’re worse than I am,” she added teasingly.
Her fingers danced over my chest, her gaze dropping to watch.
“I’m just going to say this once, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I really like you.” Her fingers stopped tapping against my shirt. “I really—” she hesitated — “frustratingly want this to work. You are not who I thought would give me butterflies, but you do and . . . I don’t hate it.”
I’d been waiting for her to say something like this without knowing I was waiting. “Wow.”
“Shut up.” She raised herself up on her elbow, staring down at me. “You make me smile when I think about you,” she added, voice dropping. “You make me want to be close to you. You make me . . . sociable.”
“Sociable?”
“I have friends!” she wailed, flopping onto her back. “I was really annoyed with myself for pissing them off earlier, and it pisses me off that I cared.”
“Does it?” I asked, my lips twitching. “Are you really trying to say you don’t care about them?”
“No!” She curled into my side. “What have you done to me?” Her fingers dug into my side.
I rolled her onto her back and leaned over her this time. “Did I melt the heart of the icy Hadley Peterson?”
She looked up at me, hair spread over the pillow, eyes half lidded and unguarded in a way that made my chest tighten. “I think you did,” she whispered.
“I told you I had skills,” I teased softly. “This is new to me too. And I could say we should take it one day at a time, but . . .” I hesitated, then shook my head. “You’ve already met my family. I don’t want to do day-to-day with you. I want more. So much more.”
Her fingers traced my forehead, down my cheek, over my jaw, light and reverent. “I want it all,” she confessed, almost breathless. “But I’m also scared shitless that I might mess it up.”
I dropped a light kiss on her lips. “You won’t.”
Then I kissed her again — slow and unhurried, all promise and no rush — and she melted into it with a quiet sigh, her fingers curling into my shirt. When we pulled apart, she stayed close.
“I’m excited, though,” she admitted, “to see what we become.”
“Yeah,” I said, knowing how much I meant it. “Me too.”
We lay there talking about nothing and everything until her breathing evened out and sleep drifted in between us. I didn’t move.
I stayed still, listening to the slow rhythm of her breath, the steady weight of her against me, committing the moment to memory like it was something I might need to hold on to later, even though I knew it wouldn’t be the last time she fell asleep against me. But still, I wanted to savor it.
I wasn’t rushing ahead.
Not to the next play.
Not to the next girl.
Not to the next season.
I wasn’t calculating outcomes or planning exits.
I was right at the beginning of something new.
Something extraordinary. Knowing it wouldn’t be easy.
Knowing it wouldn’t be simple. Knowing there were things waiting for us just beyond this moment that could tear it all apart.
I could hear her breathing, and I could feel the weight of her at my side.
And still — not wanting to skip a single step.
Not this time.
Not with her beside me.