Chapter 38
ELIJAH
I zip up and let out a relieved sigh. Three beers and a bladder the size of a pea don't mix well, but I needed those drinks to loosen my tongue enough to tell Liam and Kentaro everything about Sam. My shoulders feel lighter after unloading all that shit, though the gnawing ache is still there—will be there until I figure out how to get her back.
I shake excess water from my hands and push through the bathroom door, my mind already mapping the quickest route back to our corner booth. But as our table comes into view, my steps falter. I could've sworn when I left for the bathroom, there were only two people at our table.
Now there are... four?
I blink hard. Am I seeing double?
The low lighting in this bar is playing tricks on me, or maybe those beers hit harder than I thought. I rub my eyes with the heels of my palms, but when I look again, there are still four distinct figures huddled around our table. Two of them look almost identical from this distance.
"Fuck," I mutter, a chuckle escaping my lips as realization dawns. I'm not seeing double—I'm seeing twins.
I resume walking, sliding my hands into my pockets as I approach the table. Luke, Liam's identical twin, sits across from his brother. And next to Kentaro is Cody, lounging back against the booth with that perpetually amused expression of his.
"When did you guys get here?" I ask, hovering at the edge of the table, suddenly feeling like I've walked into something I'm not going to like.
Cody takes a swig from his beer, foam clinging to his upper lip as he answers. "Just rolled up a few minutes ago. Got an SOS text from your boy Liam here. Sounded urgent." He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking.
"An SOS text?"
Liam shrugs a shoulder, "Cap, this is an intervention."
"An intervention?" I scoff, pulling out a chair and dropping into it. "What am I, some deranged alcoholic?"
"Nope." Liam leans forward, elbows on the table, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. "This is an intervention for you and Zach... who should be here any minute." He stretches his neck, peering toward the entrance. His eyes light up. "Oh, there he is!" He waves enthusiastically, like we're at a fucking family reunion.
My stomach drops. I glare at Liam before turning to Kentaro, who at least has the good sense to look slightly apologetic.
"You're part of this too?" I ask, betrayal lacing my voice.
Liam slings his arm around Kentaro's shoulders, nearly knocking over his drink in the process.
"Hell yeah, he is! Look, we just figured your whole situation with the little devil needs some serious fucking urgency if you want her back in your arms." He hugs himself mockingly, making kissy faces. "And to make that happen, you and Zach need to stop this cold war bullshit. We all know you're too fucking stubborn to reach out to him and have that touching 'let's be friends again' conversation, so me and K-man did what any self-respecting wingmen would do—called for backup." He gestures to Luke and Cody with a flourish. "Hence these assholes, who were kind enough to drag Zach's sorry ass here so you two can finally kiss and make up."
"Yeah, man," Luke chimes in, his voice a touch deeper than Liam's but with the same mischievous undertone. "Watching you two pussyfoot around each other like exes at a wedding is giving me fucking hives. Either kill each other or hug it out already."
Cody snorts into his beer. "For real, the tension at practice is so thick I could use it to lace my skates. Coach is this close to making you both run suicides until you're friends again." He holds his thumb and index finger a millimeter apart.
"It's time, Cap," Liam says, his voice dropping to something resembling seriousness. "The whole crew needs to get back to normal. Team morale is in the shitter, and the championship isn't gonna win itself. Besides, you look fucking miserable without your better half."
I feel a nerve pulsing in my temple. I scratch my eyebrow, feeling my eye twitch involuntarily.
"Wait, what's this I'm hearing about you and the little devil?" Luke interrupts, downing the last of his beer and slamming the empty bottle on the table. "And you wanting her back?" He leans forward, suddenly interested.
Cody mirrors his movement, his curiosity equally piqued. "Yeah, Cap, have we missed something? Last I checked, you were treating Sam like she had the plague."
I open my mouth to tell them to mind their own fucking business, but the words die in my throat as a shadow falls across our table.
Zach.
He stands there looking as uncomfortable as I feel, glancing between me—his expression hardening when our eyes meet—and the others with undisguised confusion. "What's so urgent?" he asks, his voice gruff.
The guys stand up one by one, like they'd rehearsed this whole thing. Luke grabs Zach by the shoulders while Liam does the same to me, and before I know what's happening, they're forcing us to sit across from each other.
"It's hell of time for you two to talk," Liam announces, hands still planted firmly on my shoulders. "Cap needs your help, Z."
I groan audibly as Zach shoots me a pointed look, his jaw clenched tight.
"We'll be sitting right there," Liam continues, pointing to a nearby booth. "Giving you privacy and shit." He leans down between us, dropping his voice to a stage whisper. "No fighting, children. Use your words like the big boys you are."
And with that, they retreat, leaving Zach and me alone at the table, a mountain of unspoken words and over a month of silence between us.
"Fucking perfect," I mutter, reaching for my beer.
We sit in silence, nursing our beers and avoiding each other's eyes like they might burn if we make contact. Every few seconds, one of us throws a death glare toward the booth where our so-called friends are huddled, pretending they're not watching our every move.
Zach clears his throat, breaking the silence. He takes a long pull of his beer before fixing me with those eyes so similar to Sam's.
"So, have you finally got your head out of your ass?"
I peer at him over the rim of my bottle, letting the cool liquid settle in my stomach before setting it down with a soft thud. The moment stretches thin between us, and then, like a dam breaking, I just blurt it all out.
"I like your sister, I kissed her a month ago, and we slept together when we met up last Sunday in Duluth."
I squeeze my eyes shut after the words tumble out, bracing for impact. It's both a relief to finally say it and terrifying to have it hanging in the air between us. When Zach doesn't immediately respond, I crack one eye open.
He's staring at me, jaw slack, eyes wide enough to show white all the way around. "Sorry, but you did what now?" he growls, the words rumbling like distant thunder.
I wince, squeezing my eyes shut again. Yeah, it was probably not the best idea to tell my best friend I kissed his little sister and slept with her in the same breath. Should I have eased into it? Maybe mentioned the kiss first, gauged his reaction before dropping the sex bomb? But wouldn't it be better to just rip off the whole band-aid at once before I chicken out?
"You kissed my sister?" Zach's voice is dangerously quiet.
I nod, eyes still closed.
"And you slept with her?" He whisper-shouts, accusation lacing every syllable.
"Ye...sss," I mumble, still waiting for the punch I probably deserve.
Zach's chair scrapes against the floor as he shifts. "Did you force her?"
My eyes snap open. "God, no! We both wanted it. It wasn't—I would never—"
"Did you tell her that?" he interrupts, leaning forward. "Did you make it clear to her that this wasn't just some casual hookup for you? Or did you do your usual 'hit it and quit it' routine with my fucking sister?"
"I told her everything," I insist, meeting his gaze now. "I laid it all out there. I was honest. I even asked her out right after, told her I wanted to be with her for real."
I wait for the hit, for his fist to connect with my jaw again, but nothing comes. Instead, when I really look at him, I see something unexpected—a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he casually takes another drink of his beer.
"You're not pissed?" I ask, eyebrows shooting up.
"What for? For finally growing a pair and admitting what everyone's known for a long time? For stopping the bullshit and accepting you've got it bad for my sister?" He snorts. "Nah, man. I'm actually proud of you. Took you long enough to stop being a fucking idiot."
He pauses, his face suddenly contorting. "Though I could've gone my whole life without hearing you banged my sister. Jesus Christ, dude. That's an image I can't unhear or unsee." He groans, rubbing his temples. "But thanks for the honesty, I guess."
I feel a weight lifting from my shoulders, like I can finally take a full breath after weeks of shallow ones. We clink our bottles together, sporting matching incredulous smirks.
"So, are both of you officially going out now?" Zach asks, his eyes glinting with a teasing light. "Sam's probably walking on clouds right now. Ten years of pining finally paying off—it's like every teenage dream come true for her."
"She turned me down, actually."
Zach's beer stops halfway to his mouth. "She what?"
"Turned me down," I repeat. "Flat out rejected me."
"But... that makes no fucking sense," he sputters.
"I don't understand it either," I admit, running a hand through my hair. "I thought this was what she wanted. Two nights ago, she told me she loves me, and then tonight she says she doesn't want to be with me anymore. Said it was just some phase for her, that because I kept pushing her away and saying no, I was like this... challenge. And now that I want her, the 'appeal' is gone." The words taste bitter in my mouth, worse than the cheapest beer.
"Huh, she really said that?" Zach's eyebrows rise higher than I've ever seen them.
I nod, downing the rest of my beer in one go.
"That must have hurt," he remarks, but there's a teasing undertone that makes me glare at him.
"Stop rubbing salt in my wounds, asshole."
Zach lets out a rich chuckle, his head tipping back. "I can't help it. It's kind of poetic, you know? The tables turning. Sam finally has the upper hand, and now you're the one chasing after her."
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," I mutter, but I can't help the small smile that tugs at my lips. "So, you gonna help me win her back or what?"
"Oh, so now you need my help?" He leans back, crossing his arms with exaggerated importance. "The great Elijah Deveraux needs relationship advice from little old me?"
"Shut up," I throw a wadded napkin at him, which he deftly dodges. "I'm serious, man."
"I know," he says, his smile softening. "Listen, I'm sorry about the punch, by the way. My temper got the best of me."
"No, I deserved it. I'm sorry for being so callous with Sam, with my words. I just... I didn't know how to handle being jealous because I've never felt that way before." I trace the condensation on my empty bottle, not meeting his eyes. "When I saw Sam getting close with Adam, dancing with him and him kissing her right in front of me during my fucking game—I didn't take it well. It messed me up so bad, and I had no clue how to deal. I couldn't tell anyone how I was feeling because I didn't understand it myself, so I kept it bottled up until I imploded. It's not an excuse, and I was shitty for that. I probably deserved more than one hit, to be honest. Might have knocked some sense into me sooner."
"I can still hit you if that's what you want," Zach offers helpfully, cracking his knuckles.
I laugh. "Not right now, thanks. I think I've finally got my head on straight when it comes to Sam."
"Just wish I'd figured it out before it was too late," I add quietly.
Zach leans forward, his expression serious for the first time. "It's not too late, man. I know my sister, and her feelings for you aren't something she can just switch off, especially after a decade. She probably just needs time to sort through her own emotions. Keep showing her you're serious, that this isn't some knee-jerk reaction you'll regret next week. That it's not just because you two..." His jaw clenches, and I can see him fighting between being a protective brother and a supportive best friend. He clears his throat, face reddening slightly. "...spent time together. When she sees you're determined, I'm sure she'll forgive you for being stupid and blind for years."
His phone buzzes. He checks it and stands up. "Gotta pick up Caroline from her rehearsal," he explains, finishing his beer.
Before he leaves, he rests a hand on my shoulder. "I'm glad you're finally letting someone in, being honest with yourself. That's all I ever wanted for Sam—someone who sees her worth and treats her right." He pauses, then adds with a smirk, "I can't help you outright in your 'endeavors' because I'm on Sam's side this time. But let's just say I've always enjoyed playing double agent."
"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" I lean forward.
He just quirks an eyebrow, his mouth curling into that infuriating half-smile that's gotten us both into trouble since we were kids.
He leans down, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "And by the way, that thing with the kiss cam? Adam and Sam never kissed. That dickhead just made it look like they did to get a reaction out of you. And boy, did you deliver."
"What a piece of shit," I mutter, blood boiling at the memory.
Zach laughs. "Yeah, why do you think I hate that prick? Glad I'm not alone anymore." He starts to walk away but stops. "And just so you know, there's nothing going on between Sam and Adam. They're just friends.
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Maybe they're just friends now, but what about that hotshot junior quarterback who always hung out with her."
"Oh, don't worry about him. He's got no chance."
"You think?" I ask, hating how hopeful I sound.
"Please. Why would she pick some overhyped quarterback when she could have the captain of the hockey team? Star center, top player in all of D1? Plus, you've got a ten-year history—that puts you miles ahead in the game, dipshit."
"Have I told you I miss having you as my personal hype manager?"
Zach flips me off, laughing as he heads for the door.
"Just a tip," he calls over his shoulder, "my sister can be bribed with Watermelon Sour Patch Kids. Works better than chocolates every time. Oh, and if you show up with lavender anything, she'll melt like ice cream. But don't tell her I told you, or I'll deny it and help her hide your body."
I watch him go, feeling something settle in my chest—a determination, a clarity. Sam might think she's done with me, but I'm just getting started.