Page 34 of The Chad Next Door
“I’m guessing they fell asleep quickly?” he says, holding his arm out in a clear invitation.
I snuggle right in. I’ve borrowed some of his clothes again—turns out I packed myself some terrible options—and I have never been comfier despite his shirt being way too big on me. “I’m surprised they stayed awake long enough to brush their teeth. And don’t worry; I brushed my teeth too.”
“I wasn’t worried.” He proves it by kissing me softly, adding to this already great day. We focused more on the kids today, making sure they were warm and happy as we played in the snow, so I haven’t kissed him since this morning. Way too long. “I’m sorry about the Burrs losing, by the way.”
I shoot him a mock glare. “You’re not sorry at all. Your brother pitched a good game, though.”
“Yeah.” He frowns at the TV, watching a replay of one of Houston’s pitches. It’s a good pitch, but Chad doesn’t seem to like it. “I think he might be injured. He didn’t throw as well as he usually does.”
Well, that doesn’t sound good. “Why didn’t they sub in a different pitcher?”
He rolls his eyes, like I’ve asked a dumb question even though teams have multiple pitchers for a reason. “Because my brother likes to play the hero. Or, in this case, the martyr. He’s good at hiding when something’s wrong.”
The camera does a close up of Houston, who looks tired but as determined as ever. I’m pretty sure he usually pitches whole games instead of subbing out halfway through the game. The Red-tails probably would have won by more points if they had let a relief pitcher come in and close out the game.
Chad runs his fingers along my arm as he watches Houston strike out the Burrs player up at bat. “He didn’t lose a game this season,” he mutters. “The fact that his team was losing probably made him play harder in the last inning as a matter of pride.”
“Isn’t that dangerous if he’s injured?”
“Yep.”
“Do I need to distract you, or do you actually want to watch the highlight reel?”
He chuckles. “What did you have in mind?”
Oh, I have a lot of things in mind, but the deeper we get into this thing, the more I want to know about this man who has stolen my heart. “What was so funny on your phone?” And can I replicate it so I can enjoy his laugh more often?
He grabs it, typing in the surprisingly complicated password to unlock it and holding it out to show me. That wasn’t what I was intending, but I love that he has nothing to hide. A group text thread sits on the screen, full of messages from everyone but him. I even scroll up to see when he last sent a message, but I don’t find one. Scrolling back down, I read through a few of them from last week, my smile growing with each one.
Half-pint: Good luck with your game tonight, Houston! Break a leg!
Texas: That only works in theater, Mic. I don’t particularly want to break my leg tonight.
Half-pint: You know what I meant!
Blondie: Be nice, Hou. You’re lucky she remembered you have a game tonight in the first place.
Texas: She’s the only one.
Blondie: Chad will probably watch it.
Half-pint: Unless he’s too busy falling in love!
Blondie: twice that he’ll of
Blondie: Oops.
Blondie: I meant to say falling in love with who?
Texas: How do you even mess up that bad?
Texas: And you guys need to stop distracting me. My game starts in like an hour.
Half-pint: I warned him that if he went to a small town like Laketown he was going to run into a woman who’s magically perfect for him and they were going to fall in love!
Texas: You do know life isn’t a Hallmark movie, right? I need to know that you know this.
Texas: I’m turning off my phone now.
