Chapter 12
TWELVE
HAVEN
“I just love a good Pilates class,” I say to Gigi, taking a long swig from my water as she peels out of the parking lot and heads back toward The Nest. “Like, don’t you just feel so … refreshed right now?”
“No,” she says flatly. “I do not.”
When I whip my head toward hers, she holds her hands up. “Sorry! It’s just … I don’t know. It’s not my thing. My whole life, my dad has controlled what training I do, and Pilates has never been on the table. I’m just … I’m a creature of habit, you know?”
“That’s the understatement of the year,” I utter. The thing with Gigi is, she doesn’t like change—at all. She can’t just roll with the punches. She eats the same thing for breakfast every morning, does the same workouts, has the same routine.
She thrives on discipline and repetition. Me … I thrive on pure chaos. She needs calm before a game—quiet to concentrate. I need loud music and cheers to get me going.
“So, I heard Isla and Hendrix talking yesterday and they said a few days ago, they came home and Dallas Rivers was carrying you upstairs while you were asleep.” She pokes her lip out, as if that’s the cutest shit she’s ever heard or something.
“I know your families are close, but you two have always just kind of annoyed each other.” She glances from the road to me when we come to a stop sign. “But that is so cute.”
“It’s not a big deal,” I say instantly, just as she hits the gas and we cross the road. “We’ve known each other since I was twelve. He’s like family. And it’s not weird for family to do things like that.”
“If you say so,” she singsongs, almost in a whisper. “For what it’s worth though … childhood friends to lovers is my favorite.”
“Gigi,” I deadpan. “Dipshit Dallas and I are not like one of your smutty little romance books you read. We’ve just known each other forever and kissed one—” My mouth snaps shut, knowing I’ve said too much.
She parks in front of The Nest, slamming the car into park before whirling her head toward me.
“You’ve kissed?” She gasps. “When? Where?” She’s practically bouncing in her seat now, and I have to remind myself that she’s lived a very sheltered life and her dad doesn’t let her do much outside of softball.
“Years ago,” I say, like it’s absolutely no big deal because to everyone else besides me, it probably isn’t. “He was drunk, and he didn’t remember it the next day. I didn’t bring it up.” I shrug. “It was nothing.”
She leans closer to me, her eyes widening as if she’s having some sort of revelation.
“Or … he did remember but was embarrassed,” she blurts out, like she’s deep in thought. “This happens in my romance books all the time. They’re friends. Lines get crossed. The MMC finds a way to cover it up.”
“Gigi, did you just compare Dallas to one of the male main characters in your spicy books?”
“Yes,” she says right away. “And you’re, like, the cool girl who pretends not to care but inside, you’re torn up.”
“I am not torn up!” I smack her shoulder lightly, not wanting to hit her hard enough to actually hurt her because she’s a damn good pitcher, and I wouldn’t want to play the season without her. “You’re crazy. And you need to get laid that way you don’t keep comparing my life to a book.”
“I don’t have time to get laid,” she grumbles. “The schedule my dad has me on leaves no time for me to even meet someone.”
“So … you don’t, like—” I stop, staring at her. “Hook up?”
“No,” she says sharply, eyes wide. “That’s what toys are for.”
My head must rear clear back to almost hitting the window.
“Gigi Jacobs!” I practically yell. “You use … toys? Like … sexy toys?”
“You don’t?” she asks shyly, suddenly embarrassed.
“Oh, I do.” I laugh. “I just didn’t think you—well, you’re so … innocent.” I wink. “At least, I thought you were.”
Seeming like she wants to say something else, she quickly shakes her head and pushes the car door open before climbing out. I do the same, realizing I think I love Gigi even more now than I did before—even though I didn’t think that was possible.
I’m just walking up toward the sidewalk when I see Dallas jogging toward me, paper in hand. “Short! Was hoping to catch you,” he calls out, and I frown.
“I figured you’d be at the stadium getting ready for your game.” I glance down at my watch, knowing my dad considers anyone late who isn’t there fifteen minutes before the time he tells you. “Your coach is going to be pissed.”
“I know, I know. I just wanted to show you this before I left.” He grins, stopping right in front of me, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Gigi look over at us before disappearing inside the house, no doubt about to tease me when I get there.
I take the paper Dallas hands over and smile seeing the grade on top.
“Ninety-two?” I say, beaming up at him. Before I know it, my arms are open wide and I’m wrapping them around him for a hug. It takes him a few seconds, but eventually, he hugs me back. His huge arms embrace me like a damn cocoon. “I’m so proud of you, D!”
“Thank you,” he murmurs, and I swear he squeezes me a little tighter, making my heart skip a beat—or six.
When we finally release each other, I look up at him, handing him back the paper. “Ninety-two and you did that solo while I was sleeping.”
“More like snoring,” he says, still grinning hard down at me. “Thank you. If you wouldn’t have explained it the way you did, I would have never understood what to do.”
“First off, I don’t snore,” I say, point blankly. “Second, this was all you, QB,” I add honestly because sure, I may have been there at first to break down the assignment, but after that, I was dead to the world. And definitely not snoring. “Congratulations. But now you need to go!”
He starts walking backward, but a questioning look flashes over his face. “You’re not coming to the game?”
I can’t tell him the truth. That I want to go cheer for him and my brother and support my dad but that I’m avoiding Tabor. I can’t tell him because I don’t want him—or my dad and Noah—to know. So instead, I just shake my head.
“Not this time,” I answer softly. “Go kick some ass though! Don’t think that since you’re crushing it with your grades you can slack off on the field!”
He tries to hide it, but the disappointment is written all over his face. I don’t know why he’d care if I go to the game or not, but it’s clear that he does.
Probably because he knows my dad likes me and my mom there. I’m sure that’s it.
“Good luck, D,” I say, waving him off as he gets further away. “And congrats on your grade. You rock.”
He looks at me for a moment, his steps slowing and his eyes on mine. “Couldn’t have done it without you, Haven,” he says before slowly, he turns around and walks to his truck.
And even though I’m so happy for him, the way my heart is pounding right now … I know that spending all this one-on-one time together isn’t going to be good for me. But he needs me. And my dad needs him. So what am I supposed to do?
DALLAS
As the team gets ready in the locker room, I’m still high on life from the grade I got.
Except, it wasn’t even the actual grade itself that’s made me feel like this.
It was the pride that was written all over Haven’s face when I showed it to her, the way she instantly threw her arms around me and told me she was proud of me.
Maybe it was because it’s Haven, and no compliment from her is ever not earned.
Or, maybe it was my fucked-up mind, thinking back to all the times I didn’t have that good grade to show anyone as a kid, even after I got adopted by my parents and still couldn’t ever see to have anything good to show them besides my athletic skills.
Whatever it was, I didn’t expect to feel such a rush from it.
As pathetic as it sounds, I didn’t want to let her go. The smile on her face and the way her eyes widened with excitement … fuck, I wish I could bottle that shit up forever. That way, anytime I was having a bad day, I could take it out.
If only …
My adoptive parents have been nothing but supportive and loving to me since the day they brought me home, yet I continue to feel a disconnect within myself stemming back from my childhood that sucks the joy out of me even now.
But when Haven looked at me like that, for once, I didn’t feel that raw, aching feeling that I carry around day in and day out like a ton of bricks.
And I’ll admit, it was nice to feel light, even if it only lasted a few minutes.
Coach walks into the room with the assistant coaches at his side. He’s decked out in his NEU hoodie and ballcap, iPad in hand.
“Today’s the day, fellas,” he says, bobbing his head up and down.
“Today is the day we put everything we’ve been working on to the test. Our first few games were a little shaky, but slowly, we’ve ironed out the kinks and we’ve got ourselves one hell of a machine here.
” He stops, pointing to each of us in the room.
“I’m talking about this. In here right now.
It’s a damn machine, and if we all do our jobs—working together like we’ve trained to do—you all are going to dominate out there.
I promise you that.” His expression wavers, and he looks down, gently tapping the side of the iPad against his palm.
“Stupid mistakes—that’s what will cost us this game if we lose.
Rushing plays. Getting too cocky. Not paying attention.
” He exhales. “We’re not going to lose because we’re the weaker team.
We’ve got them beat in talent by a long shot.
But those mistakes we’ve been making in practice?
There’s no room—not one inch—for those mistakes today.
” His gaze narrows, sweeping the room. “Understand?”
“Yes, Coach!” we all say at once.
“I said … do you understand?”
“YES, COACH!” This time, we scream it, and he nods confidently.
“Good,” he says, almost smirking. “I’m glad to hear it. Now, let’s go get ’em.”
As we all start to head out toward the door, he stops me, squeezing my shoulder.