Page 24 of The Unexpected Lineup (Lost in Translation #2)

I NEVER SAW THIS PLOT TWIST COMING, BUT I’M EXCITED FOR WHAT’S TO COME

HAISLEY

L ater that evening, I lie in bed staring at the guest room ceiling but sleep refuses to come.

I turn over for the hundredth time, an annoyed sigh leaving my lips.

My body is exhausted, but my mind won’t shut the fuck up.

I think about the baby, my mother, Rasmus, and all the people he’s lost. And how our grief connects us in a more profound way.

The weight of it all presses against my chest, tightening like a vice.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I will myself to sleep, but it’s useless.

The restless ache inside me only grows stronger with every passing minute.

It’s a low hum under my skin, an itch I can’t scratch, a pull I can’t ignore any longer.

It’s overwhelming how much comfort I found in his arms earlier and how right it felt despite everything telling me it shouldn’t be.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I push back the blankets and climb out of bed. I need to see him. Feel him next to me.

The wooden floor is cold beneath my bare feet as I move toward the door, pausing to steady my breathing. Once it’s under control, I step into the hallway connecting the bedrooms.

Each step feels heavier than the previous one, my pulse drumming a nervous beat. This might be a stupid move, especially since I was the one who keeps pushing him away.

I stand at his door for a few minutes, convincing myself this is a good idea and knock softly.

There’s shuffling and a few beats later, the door swings open. Wearing only gray sweatpants, with his hair a mess, Rasmus blinks at me, still half-asleep and adorably disoriented.

I stare at his naked tattooed chest, my gaze tracing the patterns I once memorized with my fingertips. He’s been the star of my wildest dreams since our night together, but he's something else standing here, sleepy and unguarded. Something raw. Something real.

Fuck, this truly was a terrible idea.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, his voice rough.

I suddenly feel so silly. “I—I couldn’t sleep.”

His expression softens, and he steps back, silently inviting me in.

I hesitate but walk past him. The room smells like him—manly and warm with hints of his woodsy aftershave.

It makes me feel safe. Too safe. The kind of safe that makes you start imagining a future together.

The kind of safe that makes it hurt even more when the world reminds you it was temporary.

He shuts the door gently. “Everything okay?”

I shift on my feet, chewing the inside of my cheek. The answer is simple no , but the word is lodged in my throat.

“I’m overthinking and couldn’t sleep,” I finally say .

“Overthinking about...?”

“Everything. The baby. My mother. You.”

His brow creases, but he doesn’t press. “I’m tired, but we can talk if you want. Or do you want to lie down with me?”

Something in my chest clenches at his understanding and his willingness to make space for me without asking too many questions.

“I don’t even know what I want. I just didn’t want to be alone with my head anymore.”

He nods slowly, as if he understands that more than I’ll ever know. “Come here.”

Rasmus gets in bed and lifts the blanket on the other side in silent invitation. I climb beside him, leaving space between us.

A moment passes and he shifts closer. He wraps an arm around me, pulling me against his chest like there’s no other option. And I let him. His warmth surrounds me, his steady heartbeat grounding me.

He rests his chin lightly on top of my head. His voice is quiet but steady. “Want to talk?”

I let out a slow breath. “I’ve been thinking about something.”

He hums, not rushing me. The weight of his strong arms around me is comforting, like an anchor in the middle of a storm.

“I knew,” I whisper. “I knew from the beginning.”

His hand stills where it was tracing absentminded patterns along my arm. “Knew what? ”

“That I was going to keep the baby,” I say softly. “The day my doctor told me the news. I just knew.”

His grip tightens ever so slightly, bracing himself. “Yeah?”

I nod against his chest, a small smile forming on my lips. “It didn’t make sense. I was terrified, alone, and had no plan or way to contact you. I tried, you know. I contacted the club and the hotel, but they couldn’t help me.”

“I’m glad we reunited in another way.”

“True. But the second I heard about the baby, the decision had already been made. It was meant to be.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, but then his fingers start moving again, tracing circles against my skin.

“I get that. I panicked the day you told me you were pregnant. Everything in me said I wasn’t ready, that I’d screw this up, that history would repeat itself.

But then this feeling of contentment spread through me.

I don’t know how else to explain it,” he murmurs.

“I spent the first twenty years of life wondering what-ifs. What if my dad hadn’t died?

What if my mom had been different? What if things had gone another way?

But with our little Meatball, there was never what if. It just was.”

“You could’ve walked away. You had every reason to. But you stayed. You chose us even with all that pain still living deep inside you.”

He holds me a little firmer. “I don’t want them to grow up the way I did, wondering what it would’ve been to have a dad in their life.

I want to be there for all the firsts, every scraped knee and difficult day.

I’ll cheer them on, even when they don’t know they need it.

” He pauses, his voice turning even softer.

“ But more than anything, I want them to know they were wanted. From the very beginning.”

A lump rises in my throat. “They already are. And I’m glad I don’t have to do this alone. I was so sure I’d have to.”

“You don’t,” he says firmly. “You never will. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

The sincerity in his voice cuts through every wall I’ve tried to build around my heart since meeting him again. “That’s the part that scares me.”

He pulls back slightly, enough to look down at me, his brow furrowed. “Why?”

“Because if I let myself believe that and something awful happens, I don’t know if I’ll survive it.

” My voice cracks under the weight of the confession.

“I can handle being alone. I’ve done it my whole life.

But losing someone after letting them in?

That’s the kind of hurt you don’t come back from. ”

Rasmus doesn’t say anything for a long moment. His thumb brushes along my arm, slow and steady.

“I can’t promise you I’ll never make mistakes. Or that life won’t find ways to kick us when we’re down. But I can promise you I’m not going anywhere by choice. I’m here. I’m all in.”

We lie there, breathing in sync. Then he chuckles a quiet, amused sound. “But talk about the most unexpected lineup of our lives. I never saw this plot twist coming, but I’m excited for what’s to come.”

A watery laugh escapes me, and I close my eyes to savor this moment of peace. His fingers continue tracing lazy circles, his warmth lulling me into sleep.