Page 91 of Room 4 Rent

“That’s good. Tatum will miss her jelly-bean connoisseur.”

He leans in, his eyes intent on mine. “Will you though?”

Shit, there’s that lump again. Damn you. “What are we doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“This.Us. What is this? You wanted a place to live, then sex, now a date…. What’s next?”

Reaching across the table, he takes my hand and squeezes it. “It was never about the sex or the room for rent.”

You know what I think?

Cason and me, our existence in each other’s lives came at a time when we debated our own. A gleam of hope that not everyone in this world has reason or motive to fuck you over. In those days following Collin’s death, before the catastrophe of events that followed, I had anger and hurt deeply. My heart ached for my family, my child, and the future we no longer had.

I have no idea where my life is heading, but I’ve never felt so certain that it has purpose.

For me.

For Tatum.

And for the one across from me.

It’s as if fate knew my pain and his and said here, you can have this one.

I don’t know what will happen after his last game. Regionals and the draft. And my heart hasn’t prepared herself for the idea of this guy who’s worked his way into our lives, one pitch at a time, is going to leave us. I’ve only been on one date with him, but it feels like a lifetime with him.

“Cason?” His eyes lift to mine, waiting. “Are you going to take me home tonight, or what?”

The intensity of his eyes smolders. I know, such a weird word, but I’m telling you now they fucking smolder. “Depends.”

I finish the remainder of my wine and arch a playful eyebrow. “On what?”

His jaw ticks and he swallows before saying, “If I get home-field advantage.”

I start laughing. “I won’t kick you out in the middle of the night.” I wonder if he catches onto the meaning or what I’m implying. For the past month, I’ve made him go back to his room so Tatum doesn’t know.

His eyes narrow on mine, hope and confusion in them. He stares at me, surveying my face as his expression falls serious, his voice dropping. “She might see me.” His tone portrays his emotion more than his words do. And the look in his eyes is unlike anything I’ve seen before.

But you want to know what made the night epic?

Waking up next to him in the morning and Tatum crawling into bed with us.

“Boy,” she says, curling into his arms and laying her head on his chest. “Mama, it’s our boy.”

Our boy is right. The one that showed us love still exists.

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