20. Chapter Twenty #4
"Take your time." I stand too. "I'll take Ranger out one more time. Make sure everything's locked up."
She heads toward my bedroom — our bedroom, at least for tonight — and I watch her go.
Then I look down at Ranger.
"Your mom's going to be the death of me," I tell him.
Your mom. It's the first time I've ever called her that to Ranger, even though it’s in my phone and we've joked about co-parenting him for well over a year. And now she will have the mom title for real, because of someone we haven’t even met yet.
Your mom. I'd better get used to saying it.
He wags his tail like he knows exactly what I mean. All of it. I let myself believe that he does.
I grab his leash. Take him down to the street. Let him sniff every tree and fire hydrant in a three-block radius while I try to get my head straight.
Sarah's going to sleep in my bed tonight.
Not because we're together. Not because anything's changed between us.
But because she doesn't want to be alone.
And neither do I.
When Ranger and I get back upstairs, I can hear the shower still running. I get Ranger a treat and some water. Check my phone — there’s three texts from Liam asking if I'm okay, two from Aiden with the same question. I give the guys a stupid thumbs-up. The non-answer acknowledgement.
Other than that, I don't know what to say, so I'm just going to let emojis do the talking.
I gather up the mangled throw pillow and toss it in the trash, then sit on the couch, debating if I should torture myself by watching highlights from the game or not.
Ranger looks at me like I’m an idiot. He’s right. No turning on the TV.
I give Sarah a few more minutes to get settled, then head to my room.
She's already in bed. Wearing yet another of my old Stampede t-shirts that hits her mid-thigh. Her hair's towel-dried and pulled into a messy bun. She's got her phone in her hands but she's not really looking at it.
“Hey,” I say, because I can’t think of anything better.
She puts the phone on the nightstand. "Ranger?"
"About to pass out in his bed in the corner. Treat coma."
"Good."
I grab clothes from my dresser. "I'm going to shower too. Then I'll be right back."
She nods.
I turn the shower up hot enough to hurt. I stand under the spray longer than necessary, letting it beat against my shoulders, my back, the wrapped knuckles on my right hand that are starting to throb now that the adrenaline's worn off.
When I finally get out, dry off, and pull on shorts, I'm almost convinced she'll have changed her mind. Gone back to the guest room where it's safe.
But she hasn't.
She's right where I left her, curled on her side now, facing the middle of the bed. Her eyes are closed but I can tell she's not asleep. Her breathing’s not deep enough.
I turn off the overhead light but leave the bathroom light on with the door cracked — just enough to see. Then I slide into bed on my side.
The space between us feels enormous and nonexistent at the same time.
"Kevin?" Her voice is soft in the darkness.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For tonight. For wanting to come to the appointment.
For..." She trails off for a moment, and I let her gather her thoughts.
She deserves all the space and time she needs to say what is on her mind.
"I don’t know exactly how to say it, but it felt like you hit him when you couldn't say what it was all really about. I feel like I should say sorry for putting you in that position too, but that’s really not right, either.
And I know you'll stop me from saying it if I try.
But thank you anyway. And thank you for not running. "
I pause for a minute before I speak.
It took me a split second to drop the gloves tonight because words weren't something I could give right then. They weren't something Vostrikov deserved.
But Sarah deserves everything. She deserves the words. She deserves what I know I feel behind them.
I can’t say too much, not yet, not while she’s still adjusting to this new shift. But I can let her know I’m on the blue line in this game — that I've got her back, no matter what comes at either of us.
"I will always defend what’s mine to defend, Sarah.
That's you and our baby, if you'll let me. Whatever this is between us. Whatever we figure out it looks like. Your life is changing. Mine is changing. But who I am doesn’t change. And I’m not running.
Not from you. Not now, not ever. I swear that to you. "
"Okay."
Silence settles. I can hear her breathing. Ranger snoring softly in the corner. The ambient noise of downtown Austin far below.
I want to touch her. I want to pull her close, to feel her warmth against me. Even if it’s just for right now. We can build on right now.
"Sarah?"
"Hmm?"
"Thank you for being here. For not making me sleep alone either."
She reaches out in the darkness, as though she knows what I’d been thinking. "You're welcome."
Her hand finds mine in the space between us.
She doesn't pull me closer. Doesn't move toward me. Just holds my hand. Links her fingers with mine.
And somehow, for tonight, that's enough.