Page 126 of Free Agent

When we wrapped up, I was exhausted and hungry, and all I wanted to do was get home. But I just wanted to check on work one last time before I headed that way.

I didn't know there was a surprise waiting for me in my office.

As soon as I opened the door, I was greeted with soft snores that made my nose wrinkle in confusion.

A quick glance found Tatum knocked out asleep on my little couch.

I knew he wanted to be here for the interview, but he was also hella busy with training camp officially starting in just a few weeks. He'd been working hard on strengthening and conditioning for that, so we'd been having missed connections more often than not.

Having him here meant more than he knew.

I let him sleep, though.

And while he was snoozing away, catching up on rest, I took a seat at my computer to check the status of a process I’d started running that morning. I frowned when I realized an error had been flagged.

I considered my options for a moment and then decided to take just a quick little peek at my code.

Just a tiny one.

Just for a second-

"Rori."

I looked up from the computer to find a groggy Tatum still sprawled on my couch, peering at me through half-awake eyes.

"Hey," I said. "I'm sorry, did my click-clacking on the keyboard wake you?"

"I have no idea. I came in here since you were in full cover girl mode when I got here. I didn’t want to distract you from your moment,” he said, glancing at his watch. "Shit, do you see what time it is?" he asked.

"Not too late," I said, pulling it up for myself. "I've only been here a mo—shit.”

I had not been there a moment; I had been there for hours.

I looked up from the time with a smile and shrugged. "Guess I was just in my happy place."

“So I’m part of your happy place now?” Tatum asked, still half-asleep, but pulling up into a seated position to hit me with a smirk that made me laugh.

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” he countered, flexing a thick bicep. “Can’t tell me shit now.”

I scoffed. “Now? You’ve been cocky since we met, Mr. Country Boy Tate for the fans.”

“Who said that?!”

“You said that, oh my God!” I laughed. “You really don’t remember that?”

“Nah, I remember you putting that nigga’s ring in my hand like it meant something though.”

My mouth dropped in a fake gasp. “It did mean something!”

“Yeah, some bullshit,” he countered, standing up as I laughed.

Which was… wild.

Being able to laugh about it - laugh at myself about it… was different.

I was different.

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