Page 17 of Catch Me
“Come on, I’ll show you the guest room.”
He just nodded, which I took as my cue to start moving. We walked through the front door, and his eyes widened a little as he looked around.
The place wasn’tfancyin the way some of the guys’ condos were, but it was far from conservative. It had a modern rustic vibe with a sloped ceiling in the living room that was made of cherry wood planks, and it had beams running across it. The fireplace was stone instead of brick, and there was a black flue pipe that went from the top of it to the ceiling. The kitchen looked like something out of a home design show—dark green cabinets, white countertops, and brass fixtures.
It was homey in a way I loved. This was one of the things I’d spent a lot of money on, and I wouldn’t apologize for it.
“If you’re hungry, feel free to have whatever,” I told him as we passed the kitchen. I led him into the hallway, all the way down to the end, then gestured to the door on the left. “It has its own bathroom, so you don’t have to fight me for a shower or anything.”
When he didn’t respond, I looked over at him. He noticed my stare and stiffened.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
Then, he just walked into the room and closed the door. The abruptness made me breathe a laugh. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, but that caught me a bit by surprise.
“Tessa!” I called as I returned to the kitchen. She came hurtling through the dog door and sat in front of me, tail sweeping the wood floor. “We didn’t go on our run today. I know, I know. I got distracted with my videos. You ready now, turbo?”
She barked her agreement, then put her paws on my chest. I held onto her head and shook her around playfully before I took off toward the front door. She beat me to the car, of course, but I’d become used to losing to the likes of her.
I sent Roman a quick text so he’d know I was gone. Maybe he’d come out of the room if I wasn’t there. Some sunshine and the peace that came from outside of the city could do him some good. Chicago probably soured his mood—more than it already was, if what I’d heard about him was to be believed.
Chapter 6
Roman
After Travis sent me a text saying he’d be gone for a couple hours, I ventured out of the room. It was already weird that I was in his house, and I sure as hell wouldn’t feel comfortable being around him the whole time I was here.
He was doing too much. I didn’t know why he’d offered to fly me out on his dime. Now, he was letting me stay in his spare room instead of the sketchy hotel I’d booked. It was the cheapest place around, and for good reason. I couldn’t say I hadn’t been considering my chances of contracting a disease from the sheets, but I was going to take my chances until he made me question it.
Whatever his motive was, I didn’t want to play into it.
I wondered if Til told him . . .
No, he wouldn’t. He’d made threats about exposing our past to make sure I didn’t fuck up Alex’s birthday in February, and I knew that he didn’t give a flying fuck if anyone knew. Being a rebel was burned into his DNA, and he wasn’t afraid to disappoint his family or anyone else. Telling Travis our history, though, didn’t benefit him. Til wasn’t a bad or vindictive person.
Brooks, though . ..
I shook my head and walked around the island. It didn’t matter what anyone said. This was business, which was the only reason I’d agreed to stay here. It didn’t feel right that he spent money for me to do this, so there was no way I could let him pay for a hotel.
Looking around this place, his words about having money held a lot more meaning. It was incredible, to put it lightly. Whereas Brooks lived like he had money out the ass and wanted to flaunt it, Travis wasn’t flashy. Sure, his house was probably worth at least half a million—probably closer to a full million—but it also made sense.
He had land, which I imagined was partly because of Tessa. The house was immaculate but in a comfortable way. It didn’t seem like he had nice stuff just to have nice stuff. His Jeep wasn’t even new; it was a soft top and probably fifteen years old, which meant he’d kept it from before he made it into MLB or he bought a used one. He could walk in and pay cash for a fresh one right off the lot, but he didn’t.
Why?
It didn’t matter. I still didn’t like him paying for my flight, so I was taking one for the team and staying at his place. I intended to be back in the bedroom before he got home, and tomorrow, I’d have a meeting with the Braves management team. Afterward, I’d be back in my shitty but comfortable apartment.
Remembering that my mom had texted me, I decided to call her. I didn’t have a chance to make it home often enough, and I felt bad about it. Sometimes, I tried to make myself feel better by telling myself she had three step kids to keep her company. It actually ended up making me feel worse most of the time.
“Roman,” she answered excitedly. “How was your flight?”
“It was good. Pretty short, which is cool.”
“Are you checked into a hotel?”
I hesitated, tapping my fingers on the counter. “Yeah. Atlanta is cool. Busy, but I’m used to that.”
“I bet your dad is excited.”
