Chapter 17 – Zane #2
“There is no more room for learning curves,” Brad declares.
“We’ve spent the last seven years rebuilding this team.
This is one of our only shots to get another Cup.
If it’s not now, it won’t happen for another fucking seven years.
There are lots of contracts due at the end of the year, and we might not have the cap space to sign them all.
I’m not fucking it up on a kid who doesn’t know what he is doing. ”
“One,” I snap, “I’m not a fucking kid just because I’m not in my fifties, and two, no one, and I mean no one, wants to win more than me.”
“Then why don’t you do something about it?” Brad raises his voice. “Before we have to make a very hard decision about how to proceed with the rest of the season.”
“What does that mean?” I look at Ken as he looks down at his phone, avoiding looking at me.
“If you don’t think you can handle this team the way it should be handled, it might be better for everyone to part ways,” he clarifies.
“I can handle it,” I say tightly.
“Yeah, I guess we’ll see,” he replies. “We’ll speak more on Monday after the game Saturday.”
“Great,” I reply, and Ken hangs up.
“Listen, Zane,” he starts, getting up, “I’m on your side. But you have to look at the big picture.”
“I am,” I tell him, feeling my stomach roil. “If I didn’t think I could do this, I would gladly walk away. I know I can do it. I know the boys can do it. We just—”
He nods, not letting me finish. “See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah.” I exhale as I get up and head back into the room to watch the game over and over again.
I’m totally mentally drained by the time I get home.
I’m walking out of the shower when the groceries I’ve ordered are delivered.
I start to marinate the steaks and the whole time I’m bouncing between telling myself that work needs to be a priority and that getting involved with Victoria right now is not a good idea, which puts me in a shittier mood.
By the time the doorbell rings, I’m ready to claw at my skin.
I walk to the door and open it, and she stands there.
Her hair is exactly the same way it was the first night I met her, to the side with soft curls framing her face and bringing out her blue-gray eyes.
Her plump lips are shiny, and I want to kiss the ever-loving shit out of her to see what they taste like.
She’s wearing a pair of black pants that are tight on her hips but then are loose going down and stop right at her ankles with a low-cut black top and a light-pink dress jacket and leopard stilettos on her feet.
“Hi,” she says with a smile, and I can’t help but smile back at her.
“Come in.” I move away from the door, giving her a chance to walk in.
“Thank you,” she responds, and I can tell she’s a bit nervous. “You have a lovely home.”
“Thank you.” I turn and lead her down the hallway that leads to the kitchen. “I was just starting to make dinner.” I point to the island where all the ingredients are.
“I can help,” she offers as she walks with me.
The smell of roses hits me first as she walks over to the round wooden table.
She shrugs her jacket off and I see the shirt she has under her jacket is a tank top, showing me her arms and her shoulders.
She moves over to the sink and washes her hands.
“The view,” she says of the three big windows that take up whole back wall, “I think is the best part.”
“Yeah,” I agree, my eyes never leaving her and something twinges in my chest.
“Do you want something to drink?” I ask her as I walk back into the kitchen.
“What are you having?” she asks, and I motion over to the island where the brown bottle of beer is.
“I’m having a beer,” I tell her.
“I’ll have the same then,” she states as she stands with her hands on the wooden counter. I walk over to the fridge, grabbing a bottle, and twisting off the cap.
“Glass?” I ask her and she shakes her head as I hand her the beer.
“Thanks,” she replies softly and then takes a pull. “So what are we having?”
“Steak and baked potatoes.” I look over at the potatoes I just wrapped in foil. “Wait, do you eat steak?”
“I ate a burger the first night we met,” she reminds me, walking around and grabbing the ingredients for the salad.
“So how are you? I know the last few days must have been hard,” she asks, grabbing the cutting board and the knife.
“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” I don’t even know how or why the words come out of my mouth. They just do and I don’t even have a chance to stop them.
She looks up at me. “Really?” Her voice is calm as she continues chopping the salad. “Why?”
Yeah, Zane, my head screams, Why? “There are a whole slew of reasons,” I start and pick up my own beer, taking a pull.
“My job.” I look over at her, itching to fucking kiss her, but stopping myself from taking the one thing I want.
After this whole shitty fucking day, the only thing I want is to kiss her, sit down with her, and hear her laugh.
“Does our age difference really not bother you?”
She rolls her eyes. “Does age even count these days? George Clooney and his wife Amal are seventeen years difference. Jeffrey Dean Morgan, who is so freaking hot, and his wife are sixteen years difference and not for anything but I’d do him.
” She laughs and I lean against the counter behind me, watching her.
I’ve never had a woman in my space before.
My relationships have always taken second place to my job, always.
Which means I didn’t have the time to give the women I dated time, meaning they quickly moved on. Sometimes without telling me.
“I was in high school when you were born.” I mention of the fifteen years between us.
“It’s not my fault the world wasn’t ready for me sooner.” I smirk at that answer.
“My main focus should be my job.” I leave out for however long I might have it.
“Don’t blame me if I’m all you can think about.” She again jokes about it and this time I can’t help but laugh. I put the beer down and rub my hands over my face.
“Victoria,” I say her name and it’s like I was made to say it.
“Hold on a second.” She puts the knife down on the cutting board.
“Did you invite me here to break up with me?” She puts her hands down on the counter beside the cutting board.
“Even though we aren’t really seeing each other and we’ve had sex twice?
” Her voice that was soft before is now growing louder and her eyes have turned fully gray.
I hate she’s pissed and upset, and I hate even more that I’m the one that made her pissed and upset.
“I have to go,” she states, turning and walking to her jacket, and I bite my tongue to tell her not to.
She starts to put her jacket on as she looks at me.
“You know, I wasn’t coming over here tonight expecting anything from you.
I have never once forced you to give me something or anything more than what you’re willing to give.
But I also know I deserve so much more than whatever this is,” she declares, and she walks to me.
“I want someone who trusts me, respects me, and communicates with me.” She is standing in front of me.
“Someone who is kind and has empathy, but is not closed off to building something with me.” I don’t move because all I want is to grab her by her hips and pull her to me.
“If you can’t give that to me, then you have to let me go.
” She stares into my eyes. “You don’t have to decide this minute.
You’ve had a pretty shitty week. But now that I’ve said all I have to say, I don’t want you playing games with my heart.
” She inhales. “Now, I want you to think about what you want. What does Zane want?” She smiles at me and it’s a sad smile.
“I hope that you are good to him.” She puts her hand on me, right in the middle of my chest. The heat from her hand seeps through my shirt.
“Because he’s really one of the best guys I’ve come to know.
” Her hand falls from my chest as she turns away from me.
“Goodbye, Zane,” she says softly. I listen to the door slam shut and then hear the start of her car.
Only then do I pick up my beer and throw it across the fucking room.