CHAPTER ELEVEN
Zane
The Los Angeles hype music assaults my ears, and as I jog across the cushioned turf, the pitch of the crowd changes.
The players are on the field.
Nathan is on the field.
And I couldn’t be more excited.
My lips curl of their own accord, my smile vicious with thoughts of that pathetic excuse of a human, thinking he stands a chance.
I wasn’t seeking motivation for my first game back. The fact that I was playing again was more than enough. But getting to wipe the smile off that fucker’s smug face makes it all the more delicious.
I’ve waited years for this moment.
It’s my time to shine.
A TV camera slides past in my peripheral vision, and I imagine Cade and his dad watching from their homes. We may not be close anymore, but I can say without a doubt that Cade’s merciless smile would look a hell of a lot like mine.
Nathan is what you call a liar and a cheat. And what’s worse is that he hides behind his puppy dog persona. His good guy vibes.
“He’s so sweet, he couldn’t possibly have stolen Jimmy’s bike.”
“If he started the fight, then why is he the one too banged up to go to school?”
“This is high school. Players don’t fix games. Why would they?”
“Cut him some slack. His mom is sick. He didn’t mean to scratch your truck.”
Every time he fucked up, there was some asshole making excuses for him. And that’s not including the stuff I’m convinced he got away with. I can’t remember a time that he ever owned up to anything, while I just had to blink and they’d reprimand me.
Yes, his mom got sick when he was in his senior year, and yes, he was a fucking sweet little kid, always smiling and making people happy. But that doesn’t give you permission to be a jerk, and it doesn’t give you a free pass to mess with my friends. Or worse.
I take in a breath as my heart pounds against my rib cage.
All that aside… You don’t manipulate my girl and get away with it.
If he hadn’t invited Blair to that damn party all those years ago, her light would never have dulled. I wouldn’t be thinking about her twenty-four-fucking-seven knowing it’s better for her if I stay away.
All our lives would be different.
My sister would still be alive.
Sorrow clogs my throat, but I force myself to swallow it down, curling my toes in my cleats, grounding myself to the present.
That’s not on him. He may be an asshole that throws blame around like it’s free fucking candy, but I’m not that guy. I own up to my shit and that one’s on me.
Doesn’t mean I can’t hate him for setting the wheels in motion.
Thomas calls my name, and like cold water’s been splashed across my face, I jolt back to the present, flexing my jaw when I feel myself scowling.
I let Nathan distract me. I haven’t even laid eyes on him yet and I let him pull me from the game.
Cursing myself, I run backward and scoop up the ball, launching it at Thomas. “I’m here, and I’m good,” I reassure him before he can ask, hoping it’ll ease his mind after catching me zoning out during practice. His concern is the last thing I need.
Standing tall, I jog to my next position, readying myself for the catch until my eyes lock on Nathan and my steps falter.
He’s waving toward the crowd, his smile wide as though he’s the player single-handedly turning his team around, and I almost call out to put him in his place.
At least until Easton runs past me, bringing my attention back where it’s needed. Back to my team.
Focusing just in time, I see Thomas throw the ball in my direction, and I race forward, dodging my teammate before easily securing it in my grasp.
I keep my mind on target for the remainder of our warmup, but when it’s time to vacate the field, I naturally seek out Nathan again. I can’t help it; I’m excited for the moment our eyes first meet. To watch the sweet smile fall from his face.
When I finally find him, he’s running toward the sidelines, removing his helmet as he clings to the fence. Leaning forward, he plants his lips on some poor woman in the crowd and I can’t help but laugh. Once a dick, always a dick. We’ll see who’s smiling when the game ends.
I roll my eyes as I start to turn away, but when he steps back, the hint of familiarity stops me and I jolt, my pulse instantly picking up speed.
Nope. No. No way.
An irrational anger takes over me but I laugh it off.
It can’t be Blair.
There is no way she’s over there sucking face with that— Motherfucker.
She lifts her gaze and there’s no denying it.
I’d recognize those lips from a mile away.
It’s her. But she’s not happy about the public display of affection.
The smile she’s projecting is the one she brings out when she’s trying to avoid attention.
Too bad it didn’t work, because she sure caught mine.
How is this even possible?
Blair’s boyfriend is Nathan?
She moved to California for him?
After pushing me away.
Fuck.
Turns out, the joke is on me. Because win or lose, that fucker gets the last laugh.
Iwas wrong to say I didn’t need any extra motivation for this game. Because I have never played as hard as I’m playing right now.
Luke slaps me on the back as we line up for what could be our final play, and while his smile is wide, all I can do is quirk my lips in response.
“You are on fire, my man,” he praises, his eyes full of respect. “Whatever you’re doing, don’t stop.”
I widen my grin while inside I’m fuming. I can’t even say who’s summoned the most wrath. I refuse to think of that right now. But I’m pissed at them both.
The whistle blows, and our center snaps the ball back to Thomas. Thomas twists left as though he’s going to throw my way, but in an epic move that he’s mastered over the years, he pivots and throws right, sending the ball spiraling toward Easton who catches it easily.
Luke’s there to block their defense as Easton flies toward the end zone, diving over the line in a touchdown that ends the game.
And the crowd roars. We won.
It may not be our home stadium, but it’s not far to travel, and we have loyal fans that always make the trek.
We’re loved. And it shows.
I’m as pumped as the rest of the team, celebrating on the field, but the second I’m off, I jog toward our locker room, ignoring my coach as I rush to shower. I’m dressed and ready in record time, but before I get the chance to leave, Thomas is there, intruding on my personal space.
“How are you feeling?” He cups my shoulder, his eyes full of concern.
“I’m good, Cap.” I brush him off. “Better than ever, and I have to go.”
“Go?”
“Yep. Can’t explain now, but I’m leaving. I’ll see you at the bar.” I turn to grab my bag but Thomas ignores me.
“You’ve got media—”
“Yep.” I nod, spinning to face him again. “Tell them I’m busy.”
“Zane. I—”
“Let him go, Kelly,” Luke joins the conversation out of nowhere. “I know that look. We’ve all been there.”
“What look?” I ask, not bothering to hide my puzzled expression.
Thomas frowns until Luke raises an eyebrow, and he laughs, a silent conversation seemingly taking place before Thomas concedes. “Right. Okay. I’ll see if I can cover for you. But I make no promises.”
What? “I’m confused by what’s happening, but thanks?” My voice rises but I ignore it. For all I know, this is a perk to being a part of that damn group chat. But if it is…am I going to have to repay the favor to Luke one day?
I question it for all of two seconds before deciding I don’t care and throwing my bag over my shoulder to leave. After pushing the door open, I squeeze through the crowd hovering in the halls, refusing to make eye contact.
They know I’m an ass; my behavior won’t come as a shock to them.
I have no idea what the hell I’m doing, but something deep inside me is screaming at me to find Blair.
Her being here feels like more than just a coincidence, and I’ve always been a “fuck it” kind of guy.
Up until a couple of months ago she lived in another state. Her boyfriend played in another conference. Yet today, my first game back, she’s here, in the crowd, watching me.
She may not have been outwardly cheering me on, but on the few occasions I glanced her way, she was always staring back at me.
Throwing my cap on, I keep my head low and move through the supporters, ignoring my name when it’s occasionally called, and it’s not until I reach LA’s locker rooms that I finally pause.
My pulse races as my gaze flits from brunette to brunette, searching. But no one even comes close to Blair’s understated beauty until…
My breath catches.
There she is.
Alone.
With her back resting casually against the wall, a memory attacks me of the many times she waited around for Cade—for me—looking like the goddess she always was.
Only this time, she’s waiting for someone else.
For him.
My stomach drops as my heart catches up with reality. She still looks the same, so it’s easy to forget how much time has passed. At least until I focus on the unfortunate addition of that hideous jersey.
Talk about a knife to the gut. I’ve experienced the agony of a stab wound, and yet, this is more excruciating.
Thank God I can’t see her back, because if I saw that dick’s name printed there, I might be forced to rip it clear off her chest.
What is she thinking? Morgan? Fucking Nathan? Really? She had to choose him.
I let out a sigh as I watch her, drinking her in, getting my fill since this could be the last time I ever see her. Although, I thought the same thing when I left her standing on her porch back in Jacksonville.
A loose hair falls to her cheek and my palm flexes, itching to brush it behind her ear. I haven’t been able to get her out of my head since I last saw her, and I’d take any excuse to touch her again.
A familiar pull tugs at my chest, and my mouth tingles at the memory of my lips first caressing hers. The first time I let myself consider her in a different light—as her own woman rather than my best friend’s little sister. The girl I’d known since she was a kid.
She’s as perfect now as she was back then.
And just like that, I’m sucked back into her orbit.
She’s like an addiction I never knew I had, and it’s only after I’ve taken a hit that I realize how dangerous it is.
My chest aches from the hole I thought time had well and truly mended, and when she smiles to herself, all rational thought exits my brain.
I should walk away.
God knows that a better man would.
But I’ve never been one for making wise decisions. And Blair knows that well.
She called me her bad boy, after all.
Maybe it’s time I lived up to my name.