Chapter 28 #2
“Yeah, of course you’d protect a brother over your own daughter.”
“Denver!” For the first time, Dad sounds shocked. “Why would you even say that?”
“Maybe because it’s the truth?”
“This is why I hate frats,” Zach declares magnanimously.
“If you watched Dyers play, you wouldn’t be trying to convince me that he’s good for the team.
If anything, he’s a soul sucker. Pecan’s goal save average tanks when Dyers starts, and never mind how poorly the defense reacts when he’s on the ice—”
And so it continues…
Five minutes of Zach forcibly stuffing stats down Dad’s throat later, he heaves an impatient sigh I know’s the cue for this conversation to be over.
“We can talk about this another time—” Zach scoffs but Dad ignores him to continue: “I’ll drive you down to the city after the game, Denny.”
“We’re staying here for Thanksgiving.”
He frowns. “No. You’re coming to the apartment. Logan and Paul will be there—”
“I don’t care. I’m in college now, Dad. I have responsibilities and finals are looming.”
“It’s Thanksgiving!”
“Do you want me to pass these classes or not? You know I struggle with the course material,” I tack on pointedly.
He wants to argue, but how can he? He’s the one who chose my damn major! Sports management—gag.
“It’s two days, Denver. Surely you can make an effort for family.”
“Exams are more important. You told me so yourself when you saw my grades at the end of last year.”
Anger has his face scrunching up like a dry, crusty beet. “If your mother was hosting, you’d be in Florida like a shot!”
“Maybe. But then I wouldn’t be coming face-to-face with the proof that marriage is a lie, most men are cheaters, and that midlife crises involve thinking you’ll be a good dad the second time around when you sucked the first.” With a sweet smile, I finish, “Tell Francesca that what I’m thankful for is not having to share a table with either of you two. ”
And like that, I cut the call.
My heart might be pounding double-time, but I whoosh out a breath of fresh air to export all the bad juju and import all the good vibes.
Man, that was a long time coming!
“That felt good to get out, huh?”
I blink at Zach. “You’ve no idea.”
His lips twitch. “I think I do. Thought you were going to have an anxiety attack partway through but damn, it shut him up.”
Elated, I grin at him. “What are we doing for Friendsgiving, huh?”
He flings his arm around my shoulders. “I guess we’re staying here.”
“Sounds fabulous to me. I think we should invite Callan.”
He rolls his eyes.
“What?! He’s Canadian. And he missed his Thanksgiving because of classes.”
“Pecan will get jealous.”
“Not you?”
“I’m coming around. Especially after he dropped everything to keep you company yesterday.
” His shoulders slump even as he spreads the fingers of the hand he’s resting on my thigh.
He grips me there. Not tightly, but enough to feel his hold.
It’s possessive and tentative all at the same time.
“Denny, you’ve been massively insulted because of me—”
“Because of hockey. Don’t see me dissing on the sport of champions, do you?”
“I guess… part of my worry is that it’d be a lot easier with Callan.”
“Says who?”
“Says me. When Addison snuck in here, all the shit you’ve had to put up with because of me hit home.” His head bows. “Y-You literally just got insulted by your dad on the phone—because of me.”
Those puppy-dog eyes are the only reason I don’t get mad.
“Do you want me to stroke your ego or your dick?”
His eyes widen. “My d-dick.”
“That’s the best answer for sure,” I purr. “Zachary, if you were more trouble than you were worth, then I wouldn’t be sitting here. I’d be sitting on Callan’s knee—”
“Reassuring.”
“—and I’d be making out with him.”
“Even more reassuring. NOT.”
“But I’m not because…”
He huffs. “Because I’m worth more than the trouble I bring.”
“Exactly!” I beam at him, then I dip my chin to hide my expression. “Anyway, I like how you make me feel.”
“Orgasms are—”
“Not orgasms! Though, they are phenom. I mean… like I have value. For just being me.” My throat bobs. “My self-esteem’s fine, Zach. I didn’t need you to suddenly recognize that I was a chick to feel good about myself, but you keep doing stuff that shows what you feel for me.”
“I feel too much for you, gorgeous,” he rasps, pressing a hand to his chest. “It’s like it’s taking me over. I’m jealous of guys who call you Denny, for fuck’s sake. I want to tear Dyers apart. I could have quit the hockey team when I learned that Pecan wasn’t sticking up for you—”
I freeze at the admission. “No way.”
“Yes way. I feel when I’m with you, Denny. And I like that.”
“What do you mean?”
He slouches into the cushions, but it doesn’t push distance between us.
“I drank too much last year. Mom never noticed. She wouldn’t.
I-I kept things on the down-low. I went to parties and shit—she encouraged me.
Wanted me to have some normalcy in the end.
But I knew I was drinking a lot and it was easier to deal with the hangovers than this massive cluster of shit that was building inside me.
“Mom died, Denny. S-She left me. The only person who gave a fuck about me, no strings attached, she l-left—”
“She’s not the only person, Zach.” His grief hurts my heart.
I nestle into his side, tucking my legs against my chest and turning them into him. He stacks his arm on top and settles nearer.
“When I got here, I was so relieved to be back with you and Pecan but I never showed it. Fuck, I didn’t even know you were rushing.”
“You were partying a lot,” I confirm.
“Not just that. Fucking and drinking and doing stupid shit. I was avoiding everything that hurt. Now that you’re here, it’s like that pain’s there but I’m not alone.”
“You never were.”
“I k-know, but it’s different.” The look he turns on me has my insides twisting left and right. It’s too much. Too soon. But it makes me want to be that. The promise in his eyes. It makes me want that. “This is the Zach I’m supposed to be. I’m supposed to care. I’m not supposed to be a jerk.
“You always joked about managing my big head, but the big head shit leads to a man turning into that Dyers asshole and I never want to be him. But I could have been—”
“You’d never hurt someone!”
“Who knows what you’ll do when you’re drunk,” he says grimly.
“You don’t have a personality transplant!”
His tension abates, making him sag even more. “No, maybe you’re right.”
“Damn straight, I am. I know who you are, Zach, even if you don’t.”
His smile’s shaky. “I want to be this Zach. It hurts. Like the grief… some days, it’s all I…”
When he breaks off, I whisper, “Is that why, when you fight, you get into it? I’ve noticed you’re on edge on the ice. Last week, it looked like you wanted to tear that Eagles player a new asshole.” Never mind yesterday.
He gnaws on the inside of his cheek.
It’s all the answer I need.
I’m just glad that fighting isn’t allowed in NCAA hockey and that he has enough self-control to keep it contained.
I slide my hand over his, bridging our fingers together. “I’m here for you, Zach. Always. No strings. Forever.”
His eyes catch mine. His smile, when it comes, is so loaded with relief that I have to taste it, and it tastes like love.
It’s crazy.
I know it is.
After that phone call with Dad, it’s probably too fast and reactionary and makes no sense—
But that’s me and Zach.
We just are.