Page 71 of Catch Me (Becoming Us #4)

Roman

I’d never been good at waiting. The hotel room felt too small after Travis left, his offer to have dinner with me still ringing in my ears like a promise I didn’t deserve.

My hands itched to draw, to pin down the way his eyes had held mine as he stood there.

The desperation in them was a flickering beacon, like he was punishing me and begging me all at once.

But I didn’t want to put it on paper right now. Not until I got through this tonight. I just stood there, staring at the door he’d walked out of.

He’d texted while I was in the shower.

Travis: Out front. 7

No frills, no explanation. Just Travis being Travis. I glanced at the clock. Forty-five minutes to figure out how to not fuck this up again.

I toweled off my hair, the repetitive tug on the strands doing nothing to loosen the knot in my chest. My reflection in the steame d-up mirror looked like a stranger.

My hair was wild, and water droplets descended down my temples.

My eyes were too wide with something I didn’t want to name. Hope, maybe. Fear, definitely.

I dragged a comb through my hair, threw on a black button-up and jeans, and grabbed my tablet out of habit. It felt like armor, even if I wasn’t sure I’d need it.

After I brushed my teeth and tidied my hair just a little, I slipped into my boots.

I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt, displaying my tattoos.

Flexing my fingers, I watched the muscles move beneath the ink on my forearms. I remembered when we’d laid in bed together and he’d traced the lines, over and over again. Who knew that would make me feel safe?

Taking a breath, I decided it was time to leave.

Despite everything he’d said, I was struck by this fear that he just wouldn’t be there when I got outside.

He’d given me an hour, which was a lot of time for him to change his mind.

All of that hurt could have bubbled back up and sent him running, just like I’d done to him.

When I got outside, I looked around, but I didn’t see his Jeep. My nerves were shot as I continued to scan the area. I even listened, hoping there would be a bark. All I heard was the sound of voices that blended together and horns blaring in the street.

One of them came from a sleek, black car on the curb. It was incredibly fancy, and even though this hotel was nice, it stood out. As I continued to stare, the passenger window rolled down, revealing a middle-aged woman with curly blonde hair.

“Roman,” she called.

I looked around, despite that being my name. Stepping closer, I leaned down to look through the window.

“Uh, hi.”

“Get in,” she said, jerking her chin toward the back.

This was weird, but I did it anyway. I slid into the backseat, my hands gliding across the leather interior. There was a six-pack of beer on the floor, which happened to be my favorite kind.

Okay . . .

“Did Travis send you?”

She laughed. “Who else?”

“Alright, I’m gonna need an explanation here. ”

“I’m Sally. I work for the team,” she explained as she pulled onto the street. “I drive their bus, and sometimes, I bring them to events or locations to film commercials.”

“You’re like their chauffeur.”

“Exactly.”

“Weird. I wouldn’t think you’d do house calls.”

“I get paid per trip, and he likes to use that to my advantage. My kid is in college, so everything helps.”

“Well, bleed them for everything they’re worth.”

Maybe I was a little resentful toward the big wigs that ran the Braves. They held Travis back, keeping him from doing the things he loved. For that, I thought they were a bunch of assholes.

I didn’t know how legal it was, but I cracked one of the beers and leaned against the door, watching the night fly by. It was in the same direction as his house, so the scenery was familiar.

The restaurant we pulled up to was a few miles from his place, tucked beside a park with trees strung with fairy lights.

The Willow Table, the sign read. It was some old spot with exposed brick and candles flickering on every table.

I thanked Sally for the ride, and when I got inside, the hostess led me to a corner booth.

I slid in, facing the door, my knee bouncing under the table.

The menu sat unopened in front of me, but the words blurred as I watched the entrance.

Travis walked in a few minutes later, and my breath caught.

He’d swapped his post-game attire for a grey sweater and dark jeans, and his hair was still damp from a shower.

He scanned the room, then his eyes landed on me.

For a second, I thought he’d bolt. But he didn’t.

He crossed the floor with his hands shoved in his pockets, then dropped into the seat across from me without a word.

I tried not to show him how nervous I was.

He was right about the place. It was quiet and seemed like one of those diners that was mostly visited by locals or those who took the back roads instead of the highway while traveling.

It was a shame that it was dead in here because it had such a comfortable vibe that it deserved more recognition.

“Hey,” I said, my voice rougher than I meant it to be.

He picked up a menu. “Hey. ”

The word made me deflate a little. I noticed that his jaw was tight, like he was clenching it to keep something in. I couldn’t tell if it was anger or nerves, and that scared me more than I’d admit.

The waitress came by, all smiles that felt strange through the tension, and I ordered a beer. Travis got water, which wasn’t surprising considering he had his last game of the series tomorrow. I was actually shocked he’d come out at all.

She left, and the silence stretched between us. I tapped my fingers on the table, then stopped when I saw him glance at them.

“So,” I started, leaning forward. “Are you sure you want to be here with me?”

He looked up, his brown eyes sharp. “I don’t say shit I don’t mean, Roman.”

I swallowed, nodding. “Right. I just... I needed to hear it again.”

He huffed, a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. “You’re a mess, you know that?”

“Yeah.” I smirked, but it felt forced. “I’ve been told.”

The drinks came, and I took a long pull from the beer, letting the cold bite ground me.

Travis sipped his water, watching me over the rim of the glass.

I couldn’t read him when he was like this, all closed off and guarded.

It made me want to claw my way through, rip down whatever wall he’d built since I’d left him all those months ago.

“Why’d you pick this place?” I asked, glancing around. The fairy lights outside glowed through the window, casting soft shadows on his face.

He shrugged. “It’s quiet. Figured we’d need it.”

“s it always so dead?”

“Only when I need it to be.”

“Did you... You didn’t, like, buy it out for the night, did you?”

There was a quirk to the side of his lips as he continued to study the menu. I traced the rim of my bottle with my thumb, searching for something to say that wouldn’t sound desperate.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

His eyes flicked to mine, then away. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

That stung, but I deserved it. I leaned back, forcing my hands to still .

He reached for my hand, surprising me. “I just mean that this isn’t simple, you know? We need to talk about things.”

“Fair. I just... I’ve been thinking about this. Us. A lot.”

“Yeah?” He set the glass down, and his fingers lingered on it. “What about it?”

“Everything.” My voice cracked, and I hated it. “How I fucked up. How I ran. How I—” I stopped, my throat too tight, and looked down at the table. “How I don’t deserve you inviting me out tonight.”

He didn’t say anything for a beat. He just stared at me like he was trying to figure out if I was full of shit. Then he leaned forward, settling his elbows on the table. His voice was low as he gripped my fingers. “Maybe it was a stupid idea. But I did it anyway. ”

I met his gaze, and there it was—anger, yes, but something softer too, buried deep. It made my chest ache, like I’d been holding my breath for months and didn’t know it.

“Maybe I should’ve done it back then,” he added.

“Done what?”

“Chased you.”

My heart stuttered. “I never expected you to.”

Now, I wondered if it would’ve made a difference. It didn’t matter, though. I wasn’t ready then, and we just had to choose what would happen next.

The waitress returned, and we ordered quickly. When she left, I pulled my tablet onto the table, navigating to a blank page. My pen hovered, itching to move.

“You gonna draw me?” Travis asked, raising one eyebrow. There was something close to a smile on his face.

“Maybe.” I smiled, sketching a few quick lines, followed by the curve of his jaw. “You’re a good subject.”

He snorted, leaning back. “Flattery’s not gonna win me over, you know.”

“I know.” I kept drawing, rough strokes filling in his profile. “But it’s true.”

He watched me silently for a minute, then shook his head. “You’re impossible.”

“It’s part of my charm,” I said, glancing up. Our eyes locked, and for a second, it felt like before. Before I bolted, before I’d broken his trust and sent us hurtling away from each other. Then he looked away, and the moment shattered.