CHAPTER 4
CLOSE ENCOUNTER
***
Madison
Saturday evening, I arrive at the Sable Creek Community Center, where the Saints are hosting the charity event Zach invited me to. The place hums with activity––kids running around, parents chatting, and volunteers manning booths. As Zach’s guest, I’m here to enjoy myself, not cover the event for the paper. But I have a feeling what’s happening here is very much part of my job assignment. There’s something Zach wants me to see that’s personal to him.
I scan the crowd, looking for familiar faces. My heart skips a beat when I spot Zach near the raffle table, surrounded by fans and kids eager for autographs. He seems different off the ice—less guarded, more approachable.
His hockey uniform doesn’t do him justice. Though I’ve seen him in street clothes before, he’s usually on guard. But not today.
His fitted navy blue t-shirt highlights his broad chest and well-defined abs. Even at rest, his muscles are taut and prominent. The fabric stretches across his chest, emphasizing his solid core as it tapers to his waist. His jeans leave nothing to the imagination. Thick, muscular thighs bulge against the confines of the denim, powerful and built for speed and agility.
I breathe in a shallow breath as my pulse quickens. The man’s both intimidating and incredibly attractive. My eyes dart to his face before anyone catches me ogling. His tousled dark hair flops over his forehead, softening the hard line of his angular jaw. The contrast between his rugged good looks and the softness of his interactions with the children makes my heart swell with joy and a teensy bit of lust, if I’m honest.
As soon as my breathing stabilizes, I head over to where Zach kneels at eye level, listening to a little boy. The child excitedly shows him a drawing, and Zach listens with genuine interest. His broad smile lights up his face and that of the small child. He’s so open and unguarded, unlike how he’s been at the arena.
As I approach, Zach looks up, and our eyes meet. For a moment, I see a flicker of something—a hint of raw emotion. My stomach flutters, and a wave of warmth flashes through my body. The intensity of his gaze sends a thrill through me, bouncing from my lungs to my heart, to my most secret of places.
“Madison,” he calls out, his voice filled with warmth and a smile to match. Heat creeps up my cheeks as he waves me over. “Come join us.”
I’m drawn to him as if by some invisible force. It’s a powerful, undeniable pull, a connection between us that I can’t put into words. But I realize my feelings for the man have long passed that of a professional nature, and there’s no turning back.
“I hoped you’d come.” Zach rolls the little boy’s picture into a scroll as he stands. He drops his gaze, and I feel the weight of his stare on every curve, wrinkle, and dimpled pore of my exposed skin. “You look amazing.”
“Thanks.” My cheeks flush hotter. They must be as bright as a cherry tomato by now. I look around the room for a distraction. “Looks like everyone’s having fun.”
“Yeah, it’s great to see so many people here.” His eyes never waver from me, whether he’s staring at my eyes, my lips, or lower.
I gulp. Is he checking me out?
“What exactly is the charity for?” I focus on something else, avoiding a bout of nervous sweat.
“We’re raising funds for the local children’s hospital. The cancer ward specifically.” His voice softens. “They’ve been struggling to get the equipment they need, and we’re trying to help out.”
I’m betting now more than ever, Zach’s family has been affected by cancer.
“You must be proud to be part of something like this.” I’m genuinely impressed, but not sure if mentioning my boning up on his family’s history is a good idea. I don’t want to spoil the moment for him.
“It’s not about pride. It’s about doing what’s right.” He shrugs, a bit uncomfortable. “I don’t do this to boost my ego. It’s about the kids.”
We stare at each other momentarily, an awkward silence hanging between us. I can’t help but feel like there’s something he isn’t saying. A string of tension bubbles under the surface between us. I want to bridge the gap, to understand him better, but I don’t know where to start.
A voice calls out over the loudspeaker, breaking the uncomfortable silence. The charity auction begins in a few minutes. We both turn toward the stage, and I nervously seize the opportunity to dig a little deeper. Not for the article I’m writing, but for me. I want to know everything there is to know about Zach.
“Want to go check it out?” I suggest, hoping to keep the conversation going, no matter where it leads us.
“Sure. I’ve had my eye on the Harley. It’s a classic from the 1960s, fully restored with polished chrome and a custom leather seat.” His eyes gleam like a kid in a candy store with bottomless pockets. “Granger, one of the guys on the team, is a solid car buff. If it has an engine and at least two wheels, he can bring it back to life.”
“You ride?” I nudge his arm with my shoulder and grin. “That’s not in your bio.”
“I’m not an open book.” His lips quirk into a sexy, satisfied grin. He drapes an arm over my shoulder and turns my attention to the stage. My pulse quickens, and heat pools at my core. “Now, what have you got your eye on?”
You. You are who I’ve got my eye on. Your eyes, lips, hips and ass...I could go on, but boy, does that cross all sorts of boundaries, both personal and professional. I try to focus on the event, but my mind keeps drifting back to Zach.
“So, how did the Saints get involved with children’s cancer?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Lauren. I mentioned she’s in nursing school. She also volunteers at the hospital when she isn’t cramming for finals.” His voice is barely audible over the auctioneer’s calls. “This means a lot to her, so it means a lot to me.”
“She sounds like a caring individual.” A pang of guilt strikes me in the gut for prying.
“Yeah, she’s my rock. Always has been.” His forehead wrinkles as he changes the subject. “The Harley’s up next.”
He redirects our attention to the stage. I want to ask more, to delve deeper into his relationship with his family, but I hesitate. I’m afraid of pushing too hard, of uncovering scars that are still healing. And I can’t ignore the fact that my own past makes it hard to fully trust him.
Zach engages in a long, uphill battle to win the bike but loses it to someone who outbids him by a mile.
“Sold to the gentleman in the red shirt.” The auctioneer knocks his gavel against the wooden sound block.
“Next time,” Zach says, unfazed by the loss. “I should mingle, sign some stuff, and shake hands.”
“Sure. I’ll just grab some coffee and have a look around.” A fragile silence lingers between us. “You know, I’m not always in reporter mode.”
“But you have a memory like a bear trap.” He’s quick with the comeback.
“I think we got off on the wrong foot.” My stomach rolls and knots as nervousness shoots up my spine. “Think we could start over?”
He stares at me for a long, hot minute, his eyes searching mine. I could drown in his blue eyes and not give a damn if I ever came up for air. And that’s what terrifies me about Zach and jocks in general––losing myself in a warped world that fuels their egos and drives them to be bigger than life.
“On one condition.” Zach squares himself and rests his hands on my shoulders. His blue eyes darken with an intense seriousness. “You’re not the only one with questions. I’ll answer whatever you want about me if I can ask anything about you.”
I can’t help but feel a glimmer of hope. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll find a way to bridge the gap between us and perhaps even find the healing we both need. It’s a start. One step at a time, one question at a time.
“Deal.”
***
Zach
The charity event winds down, and I wander outside to a bench in front of the community center. The cool evening air is a welcome relief from the crowded hall. It’s been a long day, filled with handshakes and hamming for the camera. I love what we do for the kids, but tonight I’m drained.
I lean back, staring at the darkened sky, replaying the conversation with Madison in my mind. Striking a deal with her has its advantages and disadvantages. Letting her in means exposing parts of myself I’ve kept hidden from the public for a reason.
My phone buzzes, pulling me from my quiet thoughts.
Lauren – Big turnout today? Sorry I couldn’t make it.
Me – Packed house.
Lauren – Something on your mind?
It baffles me how she just knows things are off. I attempt to put what’s on my mind into words but get nowhere with all the backspacing.
Lauren – I’m getting a bunch of bouncing dots and no words. That bad ?
Me – A reporter. Nothing I can’t handle. You know me, badass big brother.
I drop a smile emoji but feel anything but smiley. Madison’s more than just a reporter. She’s under my skin, in my thoughts, and slowly settling in my heart.
Lauren – We’re not meant to carry burdens alone, Zach. It’s okay to be human and let your guard down once in a while. Is she cute?
What the fuck? My sister’s a mind-reading ninja.
Zach – Did I say the reporter was a woman?
Lauren – You didn’t have to. Woman’s intuition. She is cute, though, right?
Zach – No. She isn’t cute. She’s smart as a whip, asks a lot of pointed questions, and she hates pro athletes.
Lauren – Then I guess you better win her over. Don’t be a grumpy pants. Turn on the charm.
That’s just it. Too charming, and I might scare her off for good. She’ll think I’m just like every other half-cocked jock pumped up on ego steroids.
“Mind if I join you?” Madison’s voice cuts through the quiet. I look up from my phone, and she’s so much more than cute. She’s damn beautiful.
“Yeah, have a seat.” I shoot a quick gotta go back to Lauren and pocket the phone.
“You were really great with the kids today.” She fiddles with the sleeve of her cardboard coffee cup. “It’s obvious how much they look up to you. You’re their hero.”
“I don’t know about hero, and I’m not the only one trying to make a difference.” I hope she doesn’t think I’m coming across with some sense of self-modesty. It takes the whole team to raise the kind of money the children’s hospital needs. No way I could do it on my own.
“It must be hard, balancing everything. The pressure to perform, to be a role model, and still find time for things like this.” Madison looks at me, her eyes filled with curiosity and something else.
I shrug, trying to play it off, but the truth is, it’s overwhelming. “It’s a lot. But it’s worth it. My mom sacrificed a lot for me to be here. I owe it to her and Lauren to give my best and give back to the community who support me.”
“I have a confession.” Madison stares at me with somber eyes. “I looked you up online. I mean, research is my job, but that wasn’t my primary reason for doing a deep dive into the life of Zach Brooks. I’d like to understand the man behind the shoulder pads.”
It isn’t surprising she’d poke around on the internet. As clean as I’ve tried to live, there will always be some dirt. She must have gone down the rabbit hole with her nose in her laptop at practice.
She’s silent for a moment, then takes a deep breath. “I understand why you don’t like opening up to the press. It’s scary putting yourself out there. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be put on a pedestal while some jerk’s just waiting to knock you down.”
“There’s always someone who wants the limelight and will do anything to get it.” I lean back and rest my arm across the back of the bench. “What most guys don’t get, is being a pro athlete is a privilege. Whether we like it or not, we’re role models. It’s a choice to be a good one.”
“I won’t knock you down, Zach.” She sets the cardboard cup aside and leans back. Her shoulders and neck rest against my arm, and nothing could be more natural than this. “I dated a hockey player a few years back. He changed me. Made me wary of people, especially jocks. Like you, it’s hard for me to trust people.”
I’m surprised and heartened by her openness and feel the need for some honesty of my own. I close my eyes, remembering the cold, hard steel bench Lauren and I sat on in the police station lobby when we were just kids. Hours before, we ransacked every sofa and chair cushion in the house for loose change while Mom raided the grocery money jar she kept hidden from my father. She needed bail money for him, but we came up short.
“My father was an addict. It didn’t matter what substance. If he could snort it, guzzle it, or shoot it in his veins, it was all fair game. He went to jail when I was seven and never came back. I never understood why we weren’t good enough.” It’s cathartic to say it aloud after all these years, as if his burden was mine to carry. Funny the stories we tell ourselves to survive. “My biggest fear was that I would turn out just like him. I pushed myself, determined to do better, be better. I wanted to be someone my mom and sister could be proud of. When Mom got cancer, my whole world crumbled. I thought I’d lose her, too, but Lauren got me through it, and the team rallied around us when I was just a rookie.”
“I’m so sorry, Zach.” Madison twists her body to face me. Her knee brushes against my thigh, and it’s the human connection I need. “We’ve both got our reasons for safeguarding our secrets.”
I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of her words. We sit in silence, staring at each other while the night grows darker around us. When Madison begins to shiver, I pull her to me and tuck her into my body. She fits seamlessly next to me.
“Did he hurt you?” I ask, my protective nature getting the better of me. “I read your article about breaking free.”
Madison tenses, and I hold her a little closer, the warmth of our bodies thawing the cold wall surrounding my heart. The tension in her back eases, and she sinks into me, resting her head on my chest.
“Yes, but I’m stronger than I was then.” She looks up at me, the gold in her eyes dancing in the moonlight. “He can’t hurt me ever again.”
I’ll make damn certain of that.
My eyes drift to her rosy lips. Though it’s inappropriate, and I have no right, I’m inexplicably drawn to Madison. She represents everything I try to avoid and the kind of woman who challenges me. The magnetic pull between us is so great, it tugs at my heart and lungs to the point I can’t breathe.
Madison’s eyes darken to an intense, mesmerizing green. She tilts her chin, closing the distance between her lips and mine. I accept it for what it is, an offering whether for comfort, peace, or desire. I take it, gathering her close. I drag my fingers through her dark locks and press my lips to hers.
She melts into me, sighing her permission. One soft kiss turns into another and then more. My body reacts like any red-blooded male, growing thick with untempered longing. But I’m acutely aware of who I am and where we are. Madison and I aren’t teenagers. We’re professionals, adults on public display, indulging in one of life’s basic needs––to be desired and accepted, scars and all.
My heart races, and my lungs constrict until they burn from lack of air. I release her lips yet cling to her body, reluctant to let her go. Her hiccuped moan hitches in her throat as I pull away. We both gasp for breath and stare at each other.
“I should call it a night.” Madison’s wild eyes roam my face as she pulls away.
The space between us is suddenly filled with electricity and tension as the dynamic between us shifts. It’s difficult to read her expression. Is it regret, shock, distaste?
“Yeah, me too. Big day tomorrow.” But tomorrow’s practice pales in comparison to what I’ve just experienced. Madison’s turned my world upside down.
“Okay, so––see you at practice.” She gathers her cup and heads to the parking lot. When she glances over her shoulder, her wild eyes still glisten. But it’s the wrinkle spanning her brow that worries me.
I watch her from the sidewalk, seeing that she makes it to her car. I’m an ass, cutting things short, but where do I expect things to go? I don’t even know where Madison and I stand at this point. A kiss doesn’t change the fact we’re both vulnerable to the pain the other could cause.