Chapter 30
Zaila
Four days later, the Houston skyline glittered like a mirage as our plane descended. I pressed my forehead against the cool window, watching the city grow larger, my stomach twisting with excitement and anxiety.
“You okay, Rookie?” Gunnar’s warm hand covered mine on the armrest. “I know it’s sooner than either of us wanted to come back, but there wasn’t enough time to reschedule the Gunnar the Goalie challenge. This is the Wildcatters’ only long weekend at home for the rest of the season.”
I turned to him, drinking in the sight of his rugged features softened by concern. I offered a smile that I couldn’t quite make real. “Yeah, I know. I guess I just have a lot on my mind.”
His blue eyes crinkled at the corners. “Nervous about the charity event?”
I shrugged, not quite ready to voice the actual source of my unease. “It’s a big deal, your return to goal.”
He chuckled, the sound rumbling through me. “I’m going to be just fine.”
“Oh, I know that. I’ve seen you play.”
As we taxied to the gate, my worry increased, exacerbated by everything that waited for us, for me. I’d have to go back to my parents’ house, figure out what to donate, what to keep, settle in with the memories, knowing I would never make more…
That task weighed on me even more than whether my colleagues would see me as sleeping my way to the top after Gunnar made his announcement about our relationship.
I thought I’d moved past that worry, but now…
the mere idea made me want to hide. Jay had already insinuated as much when he’d “caught” us together a couple of weeks ago.
The terminal’s muted bustle was a stark contrast to the peaceful solitude we’d left behind in Sweden.
Gunnar’s hand rested on the small of my back as we navigated the thin throng of businesspeople wealthy enough to fly private, a gesture both protective and possessive.
It sent a thrill through me, even as it deepened my uncertainty.
How public should we be? I knew there were pictures of us together; I’d seen a couple online when I’d checked my email.
Still, as I glanced over at Gunnar’s closed-off expression, the memory of our time at Hoga Kusten felt like a dream.
I wasn’t sure those beautiful days would survive in the harsh light of reality.
Gunnar’s brow furrowed when he glanced down at me. “You sure you’re all right, Z?”
I nodded, forcing a smile. “Just jet lag, I think.”
But as we entered his spacious living room a little while later, floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city, the weight of reality crashed over me.
This was Gunnar’s world—a world of wealth, power, and scrutiny.
A world I wasn’t sure I belonged in, where I wasn’t sure I wanted to belong.
I was just an orphan.
Orphan.
That word. It was back, eating at me. I hated it. Hated myself for letting it burrow into my mind.
“Make yourself at home,” Gunnar said, dropping our bags by the door. “I’ll order some food. Any preferences?”
I shook my head, still looking out the window. The city sprawled before me, a maze of lights and shadows. Somewhere out there was the life I’d allowed Gunnar to whisk me away from. It felt a million miles away.
What must Jay think of me now? What about Tim? The rest of the team? I hadn’t given a single thought to my coworkers until this moment, but they had to be irritated by my special treatment. I hadn’t even told them I was going away.
Gunnar’s arms slipped around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder. “Penny for your thoughts?”
I leaned back against him, savoring his warmth. “Just...processing, I guess. It’s different here.” The pressure pinged at me from all angles.
He kissed my temple. “Different doesn’t have to be bad, you know.”
I turned in his arms, searching his face. “Gunnar, what are we doing? I mean, us. Here. How do we navigate this?”
His expression softened. “Well, you’re my love, and I’m yours, so we’ll figure out what we want that to be. One day at a time, Z.”
His words were supposed to soothe me, but they didn’t.
One day at a time was fine for a vacation fling.
Now I fixated on him calling me his love, not his partner or girlfriend.
Just love. What did that mean? What did I mean to him?
I tried to remember all the things we’d said to each other in Sweden, but now that hardly seemed real.
Still, instead of asking him, I tried to sort it out on my own. Who I was…what I was… But my mind grew more tangled, and I battled back tears. Maybe returning to Houston was a mistake.
It was a mistake. I didn’t want to be here, not even for the Gunnar the Goalie event I’d been instrumental in setting up. None of this mattered, not really.
I wanted to be back in our bubble in Sweden, where none of this world could touch us.
Gunnar
Later that evening, Zaila curled into the corner of my couch.
The loose sleeve of her oversized sweatshirt slipped off her shoulder as she brought her knees to her chest. In that moment, she appeared fragile.
I hadn’t pushed her to talk on the drive back from the airport, but I disliked the shadows forming under her eyes, the way she stared into the middle distance like she was next to her mother’s grave again.
Returning to Houston had been a mistake. Zaila needed more time. Or maybe I’d just needed more time with her.
“You ate almost nothing at dinner,” I said as I settled on the cushion next to her.
“I wasn’t hungry,” she murmured.
“I know. I’ve watched you pick at your meals for days, remember?” I slid closer to her, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and tucking her against my side, my cheek resting on the crown of her head. “You don’t have to be okay, Zaila. Not with me.”
Her throat worked. “Everyone keeps telling me to be strong, that I am strong. That life will even out and go back to normal.”
“That’s last part is bull.” My voice was sharp, but I kept my touch gentle as I rubbed my thumb along the soft skin of her neck. “You don’t have to be anything you’re not ready to be. And It’s okay if it takes you months to be ready to be anything but here.”
For a moment, she didn’t respond, and then the dam broke as sobs lifted her shoulders and tears wet my shirt.
“She was all I had,” Zaila whispered. “And now she’s gone, and I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Work feels pointless. I feel pointless. Just…flapping in the wind. I’m alone, Gunnar. It’s so scary.”
As I held her, I thought of Karl, of the days after the accident when I’d walked around like a ghost in my own skin.
“I remember that feeling,” I told her. “You probably always will, too. But, you, Zaila Monroe, are not pointless. You make people’s lives brighter every day.
Mine included. Even while you’re grieving your parents, I’m happier than I’ve been in years.
I don’t think you understand how much you matter to me. ”
Her head jerked up, eyes wide and wet. “Oh. Oh, that’s so… You don’t have to try to make me feel better.”
I sighed. “When Karl died, I shut down. I didn’t let anyone in.
It took years—meeting you even—to help me remember how to breathe.
How to smile. To tell those dumb, horrible jokes that make me laugh even as my throat tightens because I’ll always miss him.
But it’s okay now, because those corny one-liners make you smile. ”
I pulled her into my chest as her tears fell again. We sat for a long time, the only sound the hum of the fridge and her quiet sniffles. Lifting her head, her eyes red-rimmed but with fewer shadows, she finally whispered, “Do you ever think about what comes next? Not just work. I mean us.”
I stilled. No one asked me questions like that. I’d been so careful not to jinx whatever this was, not to name it too soon. “Yes,” I admitted. “I do. Every day. I thought I’d made that clear when I told you I was going to announce our relationship.”
She tilted her head back to search my face. “And you’re still going to do that?”
“Absolutely.”
“This house,” she whispered. “Does it ever feel like…ours?”
The question was so quiet I almost missed it. I cupped her face. “It could be. If you want it to be. Or I’ll buy you another. Something you can enjoy decorating or renovating—make it your own.”
Her breath hitched. “You’d do that for me?”
I skimmed my palm over her head, enjoying the silkiness of her tresses. “I’d do just about anything for you.”
She straddled my lap. “Take me upstairs. To bed.”
“Are you sure that’s what you need?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “And what I want. I need to feel alive, in this moment.” She bit her lip, her dark brows tugging over her nose. “When you love me, it’s like…like we’re creating connections, these lines that hold us together. I…I love being tethered to you, Gunnar.”
I swept her into my arms and hurried up the stairs as the hunger between us burned bright, then brighter. Being skin to skin with Zaila was a religious experience—a form of worship. The hunger between us grew with each coupling, as if we cemented the bond Zaila spoke of, and I exulted in it.
After, I held her close, trailing my lips along to her damp temple. “We’ll figure this out, Zaila,” I promised. “Together.”