Chapter 3
Six months
I haven't seen Zach in six months, and I haven't dated him in over a year and a half, yet somehow, he still has a way of making me feel like I'm the only person in the room.
What the hell was the point of breaking things off with him in the first place?
He's still all you think about.
You still want him.
I shake my head and straighten my shoulders, trying to push aside my wayward thoughts. Then I turn my attention to Thatcher.
“I’m just saying,” he says to Reese and Mike. “If Southern Collegiate really wanted to make me feel welcome, they could’ve given me a better spot on the team.”
Reese smiles into his beer. “You have a freaking building named after your grandfather. How much more welcoming do they need to be?”
“I’d like a first line kind of welcoming,” Thatcher retorts.
Mike rolls his eyes and groans. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”
“Why is everyone so hell-bent on using that word with me?”
I smile at the three of them, pretending to listen, but it’s hard when I can feel his eyes on me.
You're not good enough.
You spent all this time searching for something, and what have you got to show for it?
Nothing. Nothing at all.
My lips tingle as I think about the last time I saw Zach and how he kissed me like he never wanted to let go. I didn’t either. I was two seconds away from giving up on everything and just being with him, but then Tiff walked in. Reality did, too.
I wasn’t enough for Zach then. I’m still not now, because how can I show someone I unequivocally love them when I still haven’t figured out how to love myself?
So I walked away, and now he’s thriving, starting his career in the NFL while I... what?
Nothing, because that’s what you are. You never deserved someone as capable as Zach.
I'm spiraling. I feel it in the depths of my stomach.
This is why you had to leave.
My hands intertwine under the table, and as I look up, I catch Olivia’s eye. “Are you okay?” she mouths, leaning into Mike to try to get a little closer to me.
The question only serves to make the situation worse.
I nod, lying so obviously it's embarrassing at this point.
No. I'm not okay.
Every emotion starts to rush through me at once. Regret, frustration, yearning...
What have I done?
I push it all away again, reminding myself that today isn’t about me and Zach. Today is about Tiff and Jamie. I'm here to support them. That’s it. So for tonight, I will focus on them, and them only.
I can vent tomorrow when Olivia and I are on the way to our cruise, and I won't have to feel Zach's judgmental eyes on me.
The lights dim, and soft music starts. That’s when Tiff and Jamie take to the dance floor. Ella toddles between them, her fists clutching both their fingers as the chorus starts. Jamie bends to scoop her up, kissing her cheek, and she giggles, scrunching her nose.
Tiff watches the exchange in adoration, and the entire scene is so beautiful, it makes my heart hurt.
Jamie pulls Tiff into him with one arm wrapped around her waist, the other holding their daughter pressed between them.
He fought for her. Even when she pushed him away, he didn't stop.
Jamie leans in and murmurs something against Tiff’s ear with the most genuine smile I've ever seen from him. She throws her head back and laughs.
The pain in my heart is radiating across my chest. I feel like I might physically burst just watching how in love they are.
Ella wiggles in Jamie's arms until he sets her down, her little feet tapping in time with the music. When she stumbles, Tiff scoops her up instead, and Jamie extends her hand to the room.
“All right, everybody,” he calls out. “Will you please come and join us on the dance floor?”
“Hey.” Chris knocks me lightly with his elbow. “Wanna dance?” he asks, holding out his hand just as other couples make their way onto the dance floor.
My smile falters, and I stare at his hand, wondering if I have the courage to dance in front of Zach.
Would that be taunting him?
That's the last thing I want to do.
“You really want to poke that bear?” Chase laughs beside him.
Chris shrugs, unfazed. “Just because bears like honey, doesn't mean Honey has to give a shit.” He grins, his fingers dancing as they wait for me to accept. “Come on. One dance. It will get your mind off everything.”
I look at his hand, then at his smiling face.
Chase leans in. “Just so you know, if Evans body-slams you, I'm not stepping in. I'm in dress shoes and have an NHL contract to fulfill.”
“You hear that? My own brother just sold me out for a quarterback.”
“Damn straight. He's heading up my fantasy football league this year. I'm not messing with that man's playing arm just so you two can have a moment.”
A moment?
I glance at Chris, throwing him a confused glare. I guess that means he didn’t tell Chase everything that happened between us. That when I told him I was leaving for a year, Chris panicked and kissed me as though it might make me stay.
He definitely doesn’t know how fast we both pulled away.
How we laughed it off. How I cried as I left anyway. Not because I wanted Chris—because I didn’t feel a thing.
Not a spark, not even a flutter—nothing but the same old guilt gnawing at the edges of my stomach.
It didn't help that the next day, when I told Zach, I ended up kissing him for the exact same reason.
Only, I felt everything then.
Behind us, someone clears their throat. “Can I have this dance?”
Zach.
His voice cuts through me, the same way it did in high school.
I take a sharp breath as Chris turns to look at the man beside us, his eyes going wide.
“That is, if your boyfriend’s okay with it.” I hear the edge in Zach’s voice without looking up.
Chris laughs and pushes the chair back, giving me more room to move. “Yeah, I'm not her boyfriend,” he says.
Traitor.
He just gave away the only defense I had tonight.
“Good,” Zach says, extending his hand toward me with his palm up. I stare at it, faced with the same dilemma as Chris. Only this time, it's not just a boy who accidentally kissed me. It's the only man I've ever loved.
Chase mutters something about bears and honey as Chris backs away.
“Honey,” Zach says quietly, leaning in. “Dance with me. Please.”
He’s pleading with me now, and I’ve only ever heard him do that one other time.
Are you really going to leave me, Honeycomb?
“O-okay,” I say, because it feels wrong to leave him like this.
The second my hand is in his, I feel every emotion come crashing back into me. Electricity sparks every nerve ending, and I'm barely able to stand, because I’ve felt more in the last five seconds than I have in the last six months.
Let’s see how this works out for me.
My knees knock, and I keep my head down as he leads me to the dance floor. I don’t need to look up to see the people watching us. I can feel them. Not just Chris and Chase, but Asher, Olivia, Madison—everyone, and I don't like it.
When he finds space, he pulls me into him. His palm firmly at my waist, lining us up as he stakes his claim. My traitorous body sinks into him, remembering every inch of how right we feel pressed together.
His other hand holds mine, and that’s when the last two years of separation vanish. Suddenly, I feel like I’m eighteen again, pretending I don’t feel something when we’re supposed to be fake dating.
Guilt gnaws at my stomach.
All this time away for... nothing.
I didn’t find myself. I didn’t magically Eat, Pray, Love my way into better feelings.
I just stayed at my best friend's house, crying myself to sleep every night.
Dr. Reeves told me it would take time to come to terms with everything that happened, but when I look at Zach, all I want is to go back to when it was just us, hiding out in my room as we talked about the future.
Well, the future’s here, and it’s nothing like I wanted.
Tears start to well, and I choke up as we sway gently to the music. The second our eyes meet, he says, “I've missed you, Honeycomb.”
So much for being strong. I blackmailed my own father, helped set up my ex-fiancé with his dream life, yet when I hear Zach say my nickname, I feel like crumbling.
It’s too much.
Clearing my throat, I blink away the tears and change the subject.
“Congratulations on being the overall first-round pick,” I say. “I know how much you fought to get it, and it’s well deserved.”
He visibly swallows, studying me as we sway.
“Thanks. Did you watch?” His hand squeezes mine.
“You know I did.” My voice is quiet, and I suddenly find the button on his shirt incredibly fascinating. “You responded to my text.”
He chuckles. “I did. You were the only one who got a response. Everyone else I cared about was there.”
I nod, not sure what I’m supposed to do with that admission.
“Still didn’t feel right without you by my side.”
My breath hitches just as his fingers flex against my hips.
No. No. No.
We can’t do this.
I take a sharp breath and close my eyes, doing my best to regain my composure.
“Zach, you can't say things like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because we aren’t together anymore. We haven’t been for a long time.”
“Believe me.” His jaw flexes, his hand squeezes mine just a fraction. “I know.”
I shake my head, staring at the collar of his suit instead of his face. It’s unfair how good he looks like this, all grown, polished, and broad shouldered. The NFL Zach Evans feels a lot different than the boy who waited by my car asking if I was into role-play.
“Did getting away help?” he mumbles so quietly, I almost don't hear it over the music. “Did you find yourself?”
I hate him for asking. I hate that he sees right through me, and I’m going to have to answer this honestly.
“No,” I admit aloud for the first time.
His eyes drag over my face.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I guessed that. Otherwise—”
He lets the sentence trail off. He doesn't need to finish it for me to know what he was going to say.
Otherwise, you would've come home.