The Last Strike by A.R. Henry

Chapter 10

“Hale? Is that you? I thought my brother had sold all his worldly possessions and moved to a nudist camp.”

I grin at the laughter I hear coming through my phone. I had just pulled up to park in front of my garage when my phone started ringing, flashing a picture of his ugly face on my phone.

“Very funny, little sis. Sorry I’ve been busy. I’ll try to call more, but you can call me too, you know.” I missed hearing the deep timber of his voice. I need to call him more.

“I know dummy. What’s up? How’s life in the Big Apple?”

My very intelligent big brother works for CCP Holdings in New York City. I’m not really sure what exactly he does, but I know that it has something to do with stocks. He’s explained it to me before, but I usually start tuning him out about three words in. I’ve never really understood how all that stuff works, but I’m happy for Hale if he’s happy.

“It’s great. Busy. When are you coming to visit me?”

I groan, “We’ve talked about this Hale.”

“I know Tater Tot. I also know that I’ve told you many times now that I’ll pay for everything. I want to see my baby sister. I miss you.”

“You can always come visit me too. I have a guest room and everything, unlike that closet you call an apartment.”

His apartment is actually pretty spacious for New York, but I never miss an opportunity to needle my brother.

“You know that I’m busy with work,” he replies, dodging my attempt to piss him off.

This is how our conversations usually go.

He offers to pay for my flights to visit him even though I don’t want him to spend his money on me. I always tell him to come to me, and he says he’s too busy.

If he’s too busy, how will he have time to see you when you’re there, you ask?

I’ve asked that too, but he only tells me that he’ll make time for his Tater Tot if I come see him. Cue eye roll.

I press the ignition button to turn my car off and grab my bag from the passenger seat. Holding my phone between my shoulder and ear, I fish my keys out from my purse so I can unlock my front door.

“Hey, Hale, I just got home, so I’m going to head in and fix dinner. I promise I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Whatever Tot. Love you, Bye.”

“Love you.” I hang up and drop my stuff on the entryway table that’s just inside the door. I turn on the entry light and when I turn to close the door that’s when I notice the marks.

There are large streaks beginning at the edge near the lock that span several inches across the surface. It looks like someone used a crowbar to get the door open.

What on Earth?

Panicked, I grab an umbrella that’s sitting discarded in the corner, and call out, “Hello! If you’re still here I will kick your ass!”

Okay, that’s one hundred percent not true, but the adrenaline is talking for me. There’s no way I could kick anyone’s ass. We all know this, but whoever is in my house doesn't.

I’ve watched too many horror movies to be dumb enough to go further inside, so I grab my phone and get the fuck out of there.

“What are you doing?”

I scream and jump when I hear his voice.

Clutching my phone and the umbrella to my chest, I take in several big gulps of air then turn towards the voice that scared me.

“W-Weston.”

My voice is only a whisper, but he sees the look of panic. Instantly he goes straight from curious into protector mode. His voice is solid when he says, “What’s wrong Cherry.”

Not a question.

A demand that I tell him immediately.

I can only stand and watch as he marches over from where he had just gotten out of his truck parked outside of his grandmother’s house. When he reaches me, he wraps me up in his arms and harshly rubs his hands up and down my back in an effort to comfort me.

I’m shaking. Slowly, I take a few solidifying breaths then tell him, “I n-need to call the police. I-I think someone broke in my house. H-h-h-holy shit.” My voice is vibrating in a mixture of fear and adrenaline. Weston looks at me for a second then releases me and starts toward my door. I immediately drop my phone and umbrella in the grass at our feet so I can clutch onto his shirt.

“N-no. Please don’t leave me right now. I’ve never had this happen, and I’m scared out of my mind. I watch way too many murder shows to be calm right now. I need you. Please.” The last word comes out as a choked cry.

The look on his face is pure fury. He’s pissed that someone broke into my house. Does Weston care about me? He’s probably only this pissed because his Nana lives next door.

That’s what I’m telling myself anyway because friend. zone.

I vaguely remember him wrapping one arm around me before using the other to call the police.

I think I’m in shock because I somehow end up sitting on the curb talking to an officer, but I don’t remember getting here. He’s explaining that nothing inside has been damaged.

Someone did use a crowbar, but they couldn’t get the door open.

“Amateurs,” he says.

Jesus.

I stand up to follow the officer inside—they want me to walk through to make sure nothing looks out of place—when Weston is suddenly beside me. “You don’t have to do this tonight. I can drive you somewhere. You have friends you can stay with?”

I put my hand on his upper arm without really thinking about it and squeeze his bicep. “It’s okay. I need to do this now, with them here,” I say waving my hand towards the officer. “It’s almost midnight, and we both have work tomorrow. I’ll go through the house then everyone can leave and hopefully I’ll be able to sleep.”

I can see it written all over his face that he wants to argue, but I need to do this if I want to be able to sleep tonight. I don’t give him the chance to say anything before making my way inside.

The officers were right. Nothing inside has been touched. They couldn’t get through the door. I let out a sigh of relief.

About an hour later everyone has finally cleared out of my house except for one very hot baseball coach who’s currently sitting on my couch with me. “Thank you for staying with me Weston, but you can go now.” He gives me a look, so I add, “I’ll be fine. Is Mrs. W, okay?”

At that he stands up. “Come lock the door behind me. I’m going to run next door and check to make sure her door is locked. Then I need to grab something from my car. I’ll be right back.”

My brain stopped listening after he said to lock the door behind him, so I didn't realize that he said he would be back.

I lock the deadbolt and look out the window to see him jog across my yard to Mrs. W’s door. He jiggles the knob then heads to his car. I watch as he grabs the same gym bag I saw him with at the field the other day then he starts jogging back towards my house.

Did he forget his phone or something?

I open the door and move out of the way as he comes inside. He turns and shuts the door behind him, flicking the deadbolt again.

“I’ll take the couch. You can go get some rest sweetheart.”

“Wha-” I look up at him confused.

My brain obviously isn’t firing on all cylinders after the day I’ve had.

“What?” I manage to get out the full word, but he isn’t listening to me. He’s already moved over by the couch and is looking at his phone.

“You don’t need to stay,” I croak.

He puts his phone down on the coffee table and looks up at me.

“I know, but I am. You won’t sleep tonight if you’re here alone, so let me do this for you. Cami is with her mom tonight. You have to be at work in the morning, and I don’t have any meetings until the afternoon.” Then, “It’s fine.”

“Bu-” I start to argue then decide I’m just too tired to fight with him right now.

Plus, he’s right.

I won’t be getting any sleep tonight if I’m alone and knowing he’s out here will help ease my mind. “I have a guest room you can sleep in. You don’t have to sleep on the couch.”

“I’ll sleep out here. I’m closer to the door, so I can hear if someone’s trying to get in”

What a freaking gentleman. That’s some Alpha male shit right there, and I’m here for it. Where has this guy been?

“Okay then. I guess I’m going to go try and get some sleep. Thank you, again Weston. Seriously. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been here.”

With a soft smile he tells me, “Good night, Cherry,” and my already fried brain melts even more.

I head into my room and go through my normal bedtime routine. Once I’m in bed though, sleep is evading me.

Maybe some water will help.

I crack open my bedroom door as gently as I can and peek my head out to see if Weston is asleep yet. Surprisingly, he’s still sitting up, looking at his phone.

Seeing how exhausted he looks makes me feel like shit. He probably had a million things to do tonight, and he had to spend the whole time babysitting me.

I tiptoe into the kitchen without looking his way and get my water. Then I make my way back into the living room. I stand awkwardly next to the couch and sip my water trying to act like this is normal.

Cautiously, I peer over to see what he’s looking at on his phone. The name at the top of his messages reads “Bunny” so I know he’s texting something to Cami. I don’t want to interrupt him, so I move a few steps away and wait.

Finally, about five minutes later he sighs and puts his phone down, “Are you going to stare at me the rest of the night?”

Busted.

I start rambling, my nerves getting the best of me. “No. I can’t sleep. I think maybe the adrenaline has something to do with it, or maybe it’s that I-”

Abruptly, he stands up and takes my glass of water from me then sets it on the coffee table. He grabs my hand and starts leading me back towards my room.

I’m too curious about what he’s going to do—and I don’t want to scare him off—so I don’t open my mouth again. Inside my bedroom he pulls me over to the right side of the bed and gently pushes me down onto it. Without saying anything he moves over to the left side and slides in under the covers. I do the same.

My heart is racing a million miles a minute at this point. This is nothing compared to how I felt earlier when he found me.

If he thinks lying in bed with me is going to make me sleep easier, he’s dumber than I originally thought.

As if he knows that my brain is going through every possible scenario of how this could play out, he takes a deep breath then rolls over and pulls me to him.

We’re spooning.

I’m spooning with Weston Bell. In. My. Bed.

I’m cuddling with Knoxville’s—wait—Tennessee’s hottest bachelor...in my bed...at midnight.

This is like something out of a romance novel. These things don’t ever happen to me.

Ash is never going to believe this.

I wonder if he’ll let me take a picture—or maybe a selfie—for future arguments.

After a few minutes he must know that I’m still reeling so he whispers in my ear, “Go to sleep Cherry.”

And since he commanded it, I do.