CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Zane
I’m not sure how long I sit in my rental on the side of the road, but I can’t move, my conversation with Blair running on repeat through my mind.
What the fuck is going on with me? I’m in LA? With Blair? No, not with her. For her. And I no longer recognize myself.
All Jenna said was that Blair was struggling, and I dropped everything to be here.
I missed practice. I lied to my coaches, telling them I was sick.
For what? To confirm what I’ve been denying for the last seven years.
That I’m never going to move on from that night.
I’m never going to move on from Blair. No matter what I tell myself.
Did I hit my head in the game last weekend? Is that what this is? I’m crazy if I think this is a good idea. It’s insane. But I can’t stop. I’m not done.
I may have promised myself—and Blair—that I’d leave her alone. But that’s not an option anymore.
I’m sorry, B.
Movement from the tree line draws my attention, and despite there being loads of people coming and going, I don’t have to glance up to know that it’s her.
And fuck, she’s beautiful.
Sad but so goddamn beautiful.
That asshole better be treating her better than I think he is, and protecting her from dicks like himself. Because I want nothing more than to find where he lives and beat the shit out of him. God knows it’d be a long time coming.
The only thing stopping me is that Blair’s still got her spark. He has to be doing something right. In theory.
Blair gets in her car and unknowingly follows my lead, staring into space as though lost in thought. While I watch her like she’s prey.
A darkness washes over me and my chest tightens. She always planned to leave Florida. Seven years ago, moving to California would have been a dream for her. But something has changed, and it’s clearly not what she thought it would be.
Fucking Nathan.
He should be helping her settle in, helping her to find a job and make new friends. Although she’s got that covered—if she doesn’t tell Jenna to fuck off for conspiring with me.
Nathan should be doing all that he can. Like I would.
Like I should…
An idea comes to mind and I grab my phone, taking a deep breath as I pull up my messages. I must be crazy if I’m about to do this, but Blair needs someone. And maybe I’m it.
With sheer reluctance and the vision of a gun to my head, I open the group chat, cursing myself before asking for help. If it’s not about me, it doesn’t count, right?
ZANE: I have a good friend looking for a job in nursing, do any of you have contacts?
I expect Reed to offer to help, even if he doesn’t know anyone—and when the three little dots pop up, I chuckle preemptively—but what I don’t expect is for Dylan to respond.
DYLAN: Your timing is perfect, man. My sister is a physical therapist at Heartwood U and they’re looking for a doctor and nurse. They’ve been looking for a while. They’re struggling to find someone that understands football
Football? Excitement takes over me as I realize how perfect this is.
ZANE: Thanks, man. My friend knows everything one can know about football. Is your sister the PT for the team?
DYLAN: Yep. The team Wes came from. I’m sure he could help you out too. Does she live in San Francisco? It’s just under an hour drive from here
Dammit. I should have specified that she lives in LA. But it’s better than nothing.
ZANE: She doesn’t but she might be willing to move. Thank you. I think she’d be perfect for the role
LUKE: She? (wink emoji)
Of course, Luke chooses now to join the conversation. Ignoring him, I wait for Dylan to reply, my excitement building.
DYLAN: If you send me your friend’s details, I can pass them on
ZANE: That would be great. Thanks, man
REED: That saves me from helping. I don’t have contacts but I was willing to track someone down
I chuckle again. Of course you were, Reed.
ZANE: Thanks everyone. While I have you, any recommendations for a good place to eat in LA?
DYLAN: Bo-Bo’s Eatery
REED: Bo-Bo’s Eatery
LUKE: Bo-Bo’s all the way
Bo-Bo’s it is. It saves me from having to think about it. My brain’s a little fried right now.
Another message comes through and I groan.
LUKE: I thought you were sick? (smirk emoji)
Dammit, Luke.
ZANE: Cough. Cough
Luke changed the group name to “Zane’s Support Group”
Fuck. What the hell does that mean?
LUKE: I thought it was time
EASTON: I’ll repeat my much earlier statement, Zane. Welcome to Hell. It’s your turn now
Zane: Fuck
A few hours later, I’m sitting in Bo-Bo’s and trying not to moan like a horny teenager touching a woman for the first time. It turns out, those assholes aren’t so bad. Dylan helped me with Blair, and this food might actually give me an orgasm. It’s that good.
“Another beer?” my server asks seconds after I’ve finished my first one, and while I’m grateful for the attention, I shake my head.
“No, thanks.” One is my limit.
“Can I get you anything else? You look like you’re enjoying the food.”
“‘Enjoying’ is an understatement. I’m only here for the night or else I’d be back tomorrow. For now, I’m full. Can I get the check when you’re ready?”
“Of course.” Her mouth curls into a flirtatious grin before she bites her bottom lip. “Do you come to LA often?” Her voice lowers and she runs a finger across the placemat near my hand. “I finish in thirty minutes. I’d be happy to show you around.”
I quirk my lips and open my mouth to respond until my stomach knots. Motherfucker. I bet she’d be happy to fuck me too, and yet…
Jesus. Am I about to turn her down?
My phone buzzes across the rustic wood of the table, and silence falls as I glance down. I don’t register who texted but I shrug apologetically. “I’ve gotta—”
“Yes. Of course. I’ll get your check.” She rushes off and I internally groan. I am. I fucking am. I’m turning down a sure thing. A smoking-hot sure thing who doesn’t seem to know who I am.
For a ghost.
Well, not exactly a ghost because Blair’s still very much alive. But she made it clear that what we had was dead, and I’m probably supposed to accept that.
Too bad I don’t. And my dick sure as hell doesn’t. Unfortunately.
Just to be sure, I check out my server’s ass in her sculpted leggings, marveling at the way her cheeks bounce when she moves. But what do you know, not even a twitch.
Like the damn thing’s broken.
What a fucked-up predicament to be in.
Grabbing my phone, I check my message and chuckle incredulously.
At least I have an ally.
JENNA: You failed on the mountain, but I’m giving you another chance. Blair’s going to the Paisley Hotel tonight. She wants to drown her sorrows. I offered to go but she shut me down. Maybe you should be there
I scratch my head as I smile. This girl’s crazier than I am.
ZANE: Not a good idea
JENNA: Giving up already?
ZANE: Nope. I’m just smarter than that
JENNA: How so?
ZANE: You may not know this about Blair, but she can be ridiculously headstrong when she wants to be. And God, can she hold a grudge. I wouldn’t push her too far
JENNA: So…don’t tell her I sent you. Easy
I bark out a laugh, picturing Jenna’s nonchalant shrug. But it’s not easy at all.
ZANE: I’d have to. I’m not going to lie
JENNA: Good answer, Z-man. I will fall on my sword for you
Wow, this girl. She’s really something.
ZANE: Okay, Shakespeare. You do you
JENNA: Thank you, I will. Blair needs you. Be there
I’m smiling to myself as my server comes back, my check secured tightly in her palm, but when I reach out to grab it, she shakes her head. “Uh-uh. You got an answer for me yet?”
“I do.” I speak slowly, ready to deliver the blow. To her and myself.
“So?”
“I’m gonna go it alone.”
The woman frowns for a beat before hitting me with a knowing smile. “That was your girl, wasn’t it?” She points to my phone and I laugh.
“Definitely not. But it’s still a no.”
“Your loss.” She tosses her blonde hair over her shoulder and I chuckle again.
“You’re probably right.” I’ll undoubtedly regret it when I’m fucking my hand later tonight, but that damn ghost has me in a fucking chokehold. She doesn’t even know it.
And let’s face it, I’ve always preferred brunettes.
After paying the check and taking in the delicious smell one last time, I jump in my rental, setting the GPS for LAX.
I stupidly booked a late flight thinking I’d be spending more time with Blair, but if I’m lucky, I’ll be able to sweet-talk my way onto an earlier one.
Because I am not going to the Paisley hotel. Whatever that is.
I’ll give Blair the space she needs now, but I am not giving up. And if I find out that Nathan steps even an inch out of line, I’ll be banging down his door and putting him in his place.
If I show up right now, Blair’s likely to dick punch me, and I value my cock more than anything else.
Airport it is.
No diversions.
I’m not driving to the Paisley hotel. I’m not driving to the Paisley hotel. I’m not— Look at that…a huge fucking sign for the Paisley hotel.
It’s on my goddamn route.
Universe, I told you, I don’t believe in this shit.
Continuing on my way, I pass the front of the hotel, a cocky smile in place. But at the last second, I cut across traffic, skidding into the nearest side street as some douchebag blows his horn.
“Fuck off.” Flipping him off, I pull into a no stopping zone and shove the gear into park. I’m not staying. I’m just having a moment. A day. A blip on the fucking radar.
I’m not fucking staying.
Taking a deep breath, I tap my hands on the steering wheel, huffing out a laugh. What am I doing? I’m leaving, is what. She needs space. It’s time to go.
After another illegal turn, I head back onto the main road and pause, my gaze darting to the hotel one last time. I’m about to slap some sense into myself when the main door opens and all my good intentions fly out the window.
Blair walks outside, her expression pinched as she waves her hands around, Nathan running after her.
I should keep going—I don’t think Jenna expected Nathan to be here—but I can’t will myself to leave. I don’t want to.