Page 209 of Things Left Unsaid

I scoff. “No. But I’m a collector.”

“Why?”

“You want to know?”

Her eyes big in her pale face, she turns to me. “Of course.”

“If I hadn’t been the eldest, I’d have tried my luck at going pro.”

“Wow.”

I nod. “Cole isn’t the only one with skills.”

“Huh.” She points to a frame housing a ticket stub. “Why’s this one important?”

“It’s Jackie Robinson’s debut ticket stub from ’46. He was the first African American to appear in the MLB in his debut with the Montréal Royals.”

She points to a baseball card. “Why do you have this one?”

“It’s the first card I bought. It’s Jackie Robinson’s rookie card.”

“I saw the one in the office.”

“Cole bought me that.” I point to a Babe Ruth 1946 American League baseball bat. “And that… for my birthday.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, he knows I’m a collector.” Noticing she’s finished her snack, I hold out my hand for her. “Come on. You can check the rest tomorrow if you’re still interested.”

Her nose crinkles but she drifts over to my side. “I knew you liked baseball but didn’t realize you were such a fan.”

“Why would you? We never talked about sports,” I comment, pulling back the cover on her side of the bed. Then, I pause. “I sleep on the left. Is that okay?”

“You willing to give it up for me?” she jokes.

I grin. “In exchange…”

“For?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

Her matching grin has me chuckling. “You’re in luck. I like sleeping on the right.” As she clambers onto the large, heirloom bed, I watch her sleep shirt skate higher along her thighs before she tucks herself beneath the covers. “It’s big in here.”

“Yours is just as big,” I point out, turning to the side so she doesn’t see my erection. An erection that has everything to do with her being in here. In my bed. Fuck.

I shrug out of my jeans and Henley then climb in beside her. The second I’m settled, she lifts my arm and burrows into me. I chuckle because she’s cold to the touch and it makes me jump because I run a lot hotter. As her feet tangle with my legs, I drawl, “Am I going to be your personal hot water bottle?”

“Maybe,” she mutters with a sigh, the tension draining from her as she wraps her arm over my stomach.

I should have known she’d be like this—an octopus in bed.

Not that I’m complaining.

As large as the mattress is, it could be a single for all the room we take up.

With her nose brushing my arm, she whispers, “I don’t want to lose you, Colt.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

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