Page 64 of Trade It All

“Are you in bed?” I ask after a second, my tone easing back down.

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” I say, already shifting back against the headboard. “Get comfortable. Pull the covers up.”

I wait, listening to the small sounds on the other end, the movement of fabric, the slight rustle that tells me she’s doing exactly what I asked.

“Put me on speaker,” I continue. “Set the phone beside you on the other pillow.”

There’s a pause. Then the faint echo kicks in.

“Okay… now what?”

“Now you go to sleep, Baby,” I tell her, my voice low, steady, something meant to settle instead of push. “If you have anotherdream, I’m here. I’ll stay on the phone with you all night. You’re not doing this alone.”

There's another pause before I hear her sweet voice whisper. “Okay.”

Her breathing shifts after that, slowly evening out, the tension easing in small increments as the seconds pass. I don’t say anything else, just stay there, listening, letting her settle into it at her own pace.

I think she’s asleep. I almost let myself relax.

Then—

“Please be careful with my heart, Dean.”

It’s so quiet I almost miss it. Barely there. But it hits like something solid in my chest, something that doesn’t move once it lands.

I stare out into the dark for a second, letting that sit, letting the weight of it settle into something real before I answer.

“You don’t have to ask me that,” I say finally, my voice low, steady in a way I don’t question. “I’m already taking care of it.”

A breath.

“I’m not letting anything hurt it,” I add, softer now, the edge gone completely. “Not even me.”

Silence follows. Not heavy. Not tense. Just…quiet.

And I stay right there with her—until her breathing evens out completely.

Waiting has never been my thing.

I don’t sit still well. I don’t stall. I don’t stand around hoping something happens when I can make it happen myself. Everything in my life has been built on control—on knowing what comes next, on staying ahead of whatever’s in front of me.

But right now—I’m pacing my office like I’ve got nothing.

Like I’m waiting on something I can’t force.

My hands drag through my hair again as I turn, the same tight circle I’ve been walking since I got here, my eyes flicking to the window more times than I can count. The parking lot sits just below, empty in that early-morning way that won’t last much longer once the guys start rolling in.

I should be thinking about the trip.

Lineups. Matchups. The way we’re going to handle the next stretch of games on the road.

Instead—I’m waiting for her.

My phone sits on my desk, screen dark now, but that doesn’t stop me from glancing at it like something might’ve changed in the last five seconds.

I woke up with her still on the line, her breathing steady and quiet through the speaker, soft enough that I almost thought I imagined it at first. But it was there. Real. Grounding in a way I didn’t expect.