Chapter 5
Chapter Five
KEELEY
The clock ticks ridiculously loud above my head, and it takes everything in my power not to rip it from the wall and throw it across the room.
Hayley suggested we write character statements for Zane while waiting for news, and while that was good in theory, it only worked to make me feel worse about the position he’s in.
I thought I knew the gist of what was happening to Zane before I arrived, until Blair filled us in on more details after her dad left. And I still can’t wrap my head around everything that’s happened.
Zane’s dad pushed him into a fight and then called the police to have him arrested. His dad. I can’t even fathom what kind of a person, what kind of parent, could disown their child, then accuse him of trespassing when he came back.
That’s shocking enough on its own, but to then start a fight and blame him for it? What the actual fuck? A wave of nausea hits me, thinking about all that Zane’s endured.
It’s just one thing after another. He’s stuck in a cell alone just for visiting his childhood home, while we’re here writing about how good of a guy he is.
Needing a moment to myself, I sneak out of the private dining room and through the halls of the diner, looking for somewhere to find some peace. The dining room was quiet, silent in fact, and yet it was so loud in my head, I was struggling to concentrate.
I’m not even sure who I’m most worried about at this point. Yes, Zane’s in jail, awaiting a trial, but the determination set in both Sal’s and Tim’s features has me believing he’s going to be okay. That they’re going to find a way to ensure he’s cleared.
My concern comes from wondering what the hell they’re going to do to themselves in the process. Sal’s a smart man, but I wouldn’t put it past him to do something stupid, especially when it comes to protecting the people he cares about.
It’s been over an hour since they left.
What the hell could they be doing?
Sal’s a communicator, always, so his radio silence is killing me.
After taking a deep breath, l lean back against the brightly colored wall near the bathrooms at the back of the diner, and close my eyes.
The loud pop music works to block the chaos in my mind, and I’m surprised to say it relaxes me a little. But it’s the vibration of my phone that really has me sighing with relief.
SAL: We’re on our way back. I’ll fill you in when I get there.
KEELEY: Thank God. The hearing is starting soon. Will you make it?
SAL: We’re only five minutes away
KEELEY: Did it help?
SAL: I really fucking hope so.
I don’t respond because I want to be back in the dining room when he gets there. Rushing this time, I walk through the doorway to the private area to find that Blair’s a complete mess.
“He’s going to miss the hearing, Mom.” She tugs on the strands of her hair, pacing the floor.
“He’s not,” I cut in before her mom responds. “Sal’s been texting me. They’re on their way back.”
“From where exactly?” Blair asks, her tone suspicious.
“He didn’t say.” And truth be known, I’m just as suspicious as she is. What the hell did they do?
Blair’s previously panicked demeanor turns to frustration now that she knows they’re on the way, but she aims her questions back at her mom, while the rest of us watch the exchange. Helpless. Waiting.
Barely a minute passes before the door finally opens and Sal and Tim step through.
A little of the tension leaves me when I see that Sal’s okay, until Blair’s mom gasps, and I turn to check what has her so frantic.
Sal may be fine, but Tim looks like he’s been beaten with a metal rod, and it doesn’t take much to guess who was on the other end of that beating. Zane’s dad.
God. I hope this works.
I’m usually cool, calm, and collected in high-pressure situations, but here in the courtroom, I feel like a completely different person. I can’t stop my leg from shaking, my heart is racing at a million miles per minute, and the pit in my stomach is so deep, it rivals the Grand Canyon.
Zane, on the other hand, is the picture of calm, relaxing back in his chair, his eyes on the door to the judge’s chamber.
I doubt he’s calm at all. He’s just putting on a front, likely for Blair.
The judge walks into the room, and my body—that moments ago couldn’t stop moving—stills, my racing heart frozen and my limbs paralyzed. This is it. This is the moment. There’s nothing more anyone can do.
I listen to the judge’s every word as he runs through the charges, my gaze darting between him and Zane, and it isn’t until he’s ready to announce the next steps that a shudder runs through me.
Sal’s giant palm curls around my thigh, giving me a reassuring squeeze, and my entire body finds equilibrium. My pulse slows, and I feel like I can inhale deeply for the first time, a calming breath seeping back into my lungs.
I’m about to silently thank him when his hand disappears, and I glance up to find him focused on the judge, as though I imagined the entire thing.
After mentioning the new evidence he received that morning—which I’m certain has to do with Sal and Tim—the judge shockingly dismisses the case, citing insufficient probable cause. Just like that.
The relief I feel is so overwhelming I struggle not to cry.
I am not a crier.
Zane’s not out of the woods yet, but at least he’s over the first hurdle, and I’m holding tight to hope that he’ll be cleared of any fault in Landon’s death too. There’s no other acceptable outcome. He didn’t do anything wrong. He saved Reed and Hayley.
We all exit the courtroom when Zane’s dismissed, and while everyone’s celebrating and hugging Zane, I sneak away, shifting into media-control mode.
I stalk the hall toward the front desk and pray they have somewhere I can work.
“Hi.” The receptionist lifts her gaze as she places her book on the desk in front of her, offering me a tight-lipped grin. “How can I help?”
“I’m sorry to bother you. But I was wondering if you might have a room I can borrow for a few minutes. I have to make some time-sensitive calls.”
“Does this have anything to do with the football star over there? My husband is a huge fan; I recognized him right away.”
Jesus. Yep. That’s exactly why I need to make these calls. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already messaged her husband to tell him Zane’s here.
“It’s not, sorry,” I lie. “Do you have anything?”
“I think meeting room B is available.”
“Great. Thank you. Where would I find that?”
She points me in the direction of a room with a weathered door that looks like it could pass as a janitor’s closest, and when I walk in, I’m surprised to find it’s bigger than I perceived.
I spend all of two seconds assessing my surroundings before sliding my phone from my pocket and making my first call, my fingers crossed for luck as the phone rings.
I’m on my fifth call by the time someone answers, and after finally getting through to three more contacts, I think it’s safe to say no one’s aware of Zane’s arrest. At least, not yet.
Still, I keep going.
I’ve just hung up from another unanswered call, when a text comes through.
SAL: Where are you? Are you okay?
KEELEY: I’m fine. Just trying to get ahead of this news
SAL: What can I do to help?
KEELEY: Nothing. I’ve got this
SAL: You’re my rock, Keels. Let me be yours.
My gaze lifts to my faint reflection in the window, and I physically deflate while my heart jolts in my chest.
It’s moments like these that I struggle to remember he’s my boss and almost twenty years my senior. Why does he have to be so good to me all the time? He doesn’t even realize he’s my rock too. He instantly calmed me today with one simple touch. The way my body reacts to him is unnerving.
For the past year, I’ve been pretending those moments don’t mean anything, but now that my emotions are shot, it’s a struggle to convince myself to maintain my practical approach when it comes to the two of us.
Am I physically attracted to Sal? Absolutely.
Am I emotionally attracted to Sal? Yes, in the sense that he calms me and being in his orbit makes me happy.
Do I have feelings for Sal? That I can’t answer. Not now. But if asked, I’d say no.
I’m smart enough to realize that road is a complete dead end. But is that my response because I know that?
He’s my boss first, though we’re also friends, and right now, I’m confused if it’s more than that. On both our parts. Either way, I’d never act on it.
SAL: Where are you, Keels? You’re killing me here.
I inhale a deep breath, trying to shake off the image of Sal’s demanding presence before rushing to find him.
I open the door and gasp, almost bumping into Zane in the doorway, and an embarrassed warmth coats my cheeks. “Zane? You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“Sorry.” He cringes as I glance back over my shoulder, hastily closing the door, as if I left behind evidence of the inappropriate thoughts running through my mind.
When I look back at him, Zane’s pale face makes my chest tight.
He’s been through so much and— “I just wanted to say thanks,” he rushes out, stilling me.
“Thanks? What for?”
He stares at me deadpan and I can’t help but laugh. He’s thanking me? “You’re such an idiot, Zane. After all this time, you still don’t get it. We all care. We’re a family. And nothing you do is going to change that.”
“I bet?—”
“Nothing,” I repeat sternly, my eyes locked on his, begging him to understand.
After a few beats, he nods. “Thank you. I promise, I’m starting to see it.”
“Good. The next few weeks are going to be trying for you and the team, but we’re going to get through it. Together. One day at a time. And by the end, everyone is going to love you. More than they already do. You know people crave a redemption story.”
“Thanks, Keeley. If you ever need anything, I’d love to return the favor.”
“Don’t like being in debt, huh?”
“Definitely not.”
I laugh lightly, but while I’m projecting happiness on the outside, the tightness inside my chest fails to dissipate.
We rejoin the others and say our goodbyes, while I remain a little on edge. I want to make this as painless as possible for him. But how?
I’m wound so tight on the flight home that when we land on the tarmac, Sal pulls me aside, his expression pained. “Let me help. Please. How many times have I called you into my office over the past year, needing you for one thing or another?”
“They’ve all been issues that were my problem too, Sal. My job. I was supposed to help you.”
“And you don’t think this is my problem as much as it is yours? A player on my team is being questioned over the death of another player, Keeley. That’s my problem. More than anyone else’s."
“You—”
“I’m helping. Do you want to go to the office or?—”
“The office,” I interrupt him, my feelings from earlier resurfacing at the thought of a more intimate setting. “I try not to work too much at home, if possible.”
“Of course.” Sal pauses as he visibly swallows, quickly replacing his unease with a smile. “We’ll go to the office. It’s time I took over some of your stress.”
Like always, calm washes over me the second I sit down on Sal’s couch, feeling the soft leather beneath my hands. This is familiar. Safe. Comforting.
In this room, I’m in control. The noise doesn’t feel as chaotic when the deep mahogany scent of Sal’s office permeates the air.
The view helps too. Football has my heart, so seeing the practice field while I work is like walking through a peaceful garden to me.
Everything about this space puts me at ease, including the man walking through the door.
Only try as I might to keep my thoughts at bay, the emotions from the day overwhelm me once more, and my stupid heart picks up speed.
This is going to be harder than I thought.