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I gasp, my eyes flying open. I shoot up, twisting to face him, my fingers fisting the white comforter. “The bus.”
“You never brought it into the hotel? You said it was in your bag.”
“I—” My mouth works but no sound comes out for a second. “I don’t know. I was texting my dad… Maybe I never put it back in my bag?”
His shoulders sag for the first time, showing uncertainty. “I happen to know that they lock the bus doors overnight.” He runs a hand through his dark hair, checking his watch on his free one. “It’s five minutes past curfew.”
“I need to get on that bus.” I close my eyes like I can shield myself from what’s next. “Coach is going to be so pissed. But there’s nothing I can do. I have to ask. The alternative is him realizing I don’t have the statue tomorrow, and then everyone’s going to be pissed at me.”
Look at that, everyone will finally know I exist, but it’ll be for a terrible reason. Fitting for my life.
“I’ll tell him I have medication that I left on the bus.” I sit up with a sigh, watching this all play out in my head. He’ll have to wake the bus driver. Maybe they’re already in their pajamas. Or asleep.
“I’ll do it.”
“What?”
Cade stands. “I’ll do it. I’ll call Coach and tell him I have to get on the bus.”
His offer plants up a warmth in my chest. “I can’t let you do that,” I murmur.
“Yes, you can.”
He moves toward the phone, and I scramble over the bed and grab his arm. “You’ve already done so much for me.”
A surprised expression greets me. He peers down at his hand where I’m holding him and then up to my face. I drop his hand like it’s a hot potato, and his answering grin is like a speaker on full blast. “Not to be that confident person you don’t like, but I’m Coach’s star wide receiver. Sure, I might get a lecture about planning, but I’m not going to get in that much trouble.”
My dry throat cracks as I attempt to swallow. “But what are you going to tell him you left?” I feel like a shitty person for considering this. Time after time, Cade has saved me in this job.
He shrugs. “I’ll figure it out when I talk to him. Where’s the folder with everyone’s room number on it?”
I lean over the bed and grab it, opening it to the list of every single Warner University football player and staff. I find Coach’s name and point at it. 127.
Without hesitation, Cade dials the number. He turns, his finger twisting in the telephone cord. “Hey, Coach. I’m sorry, I know it’s past curfew, but I just realized I left something on the bus.”
I step closer, hoping I can hear Coach’s side of the conversation. Whatever he’s saying, his tone is sharp.
“Yeah, I need it tonight. I’m sorry.”
Pause.
“Okay, I’ll call her. Thanks, Coach. Don’t worry, I’ll have the best game tomorrow to make it up to you.” Cade pauses before he chuckles. “Yeah, good night.” Turning with a glint in his eye, he says, “See, it wasn’t so bad.”
I crawl off the bed and stand. “What did he say?”
Cade hangs up the phone, and when he stands to full height again, his eyes round. He takes in the short amount of distance separating us before saying, “He reiterated that I’m his favorite wide receiver of all time and that he would do anything to make sure I’m comfortable tonight.”
I laugh, my stomach tightening with the effort.
His gaze drags across my face. “I like it when you laugh.”
I stop, pressing my lips together. I fight for them to stay that way, but Cade grinning at me from ear to ear makes it impossible. Finally, I give in.
“See?” he asks, reaching up to brush a thumb over my cheek. “Beautiful.”
His description is sobering—and one big lie. I step away, clearing my thoughts. I don’t talk until I’m on the other side of the bed. “What did he tell you to do?”
“He told me to call his shy assistant who doesn’t realize how pretty she is for the bus driver’s number.”