Zach's expression shifts instantly, worry cutting across his features. "What?" His voice pitches higher.
His hand adjusts the duffel strap on his shoulder, then rakes up to press against his forehead, like he's trying to steady the rising panic he can't quite keep down.
"Is she… she's okay, right?"
I step closer, laying my hand on his upper arm. "She's fine, Zach. Really. She was still making her usual sassy jokes before they left."
What I don't mention is that the joke was about how shamelessly I was drooling over him earlier. That one she filed under sister blackmail material.
The relief that washes over him is almost comical—shoulders loosening, air leaving his chest in a heavy sigh as his mouth quirks into a half-smile. Yeah, he's smiling now, but I know him.
I've known him literally since before we could walk—hell, our moms practically handed us off like two-for-one newborns in the hospital. So I can read him better than anyone, and right now that smile is covering the fact that he's dying to bolt straight home.
"Let's go," I say, nudging him. "We should head home."
His brows pinch. "What? No. Weren't we going to Giuseppe's?"
"Pffft." I flick my hand like he's ridiculous.
"You really think I don't know what's going on in that thick hockey skull of yours? I'd bet a dollar that what you really want to do right now is barge into your little sister's bedroom, stick a thermometer in her face, slap on one of those cold patches, and then hover over her like some wannabe doctor until she kicks you out."
Zach makes a face. "Hey, I never hover."
I smirk. "Uh, yes, you do, Westbrook. You're like... the human version of a drone."
Zach squints at me, mock-serious. "You do realize it scares me sometimes how well you know me, right?"
I spread my arms. "What can I say? I pay attention."
"Yeah, because you're a stalker."
"Excuse me—observant."
He smirks. "Obsessive."
"Over protective," I counter.
We just stare at each other for a beat before we both crack up, laughter bouncing between us until Zach finally sighs, rolling his eyes.
"Fine, fine—you win. Like always."
"Obviously." I tilt my chin smugly.
He shakes his head, but there's a smile tugging at his lips. "But... are you sure it's okay we're not going to Guiseppe's? It's our tradition."
I lift one shoulder, scrunching my nose in a playful shrug. "We can always go next time. Missing one day isn't the end of the world. Pretty sure Guiseppe won't cry himself to sleep over it."
That earns me a snort.
Then Zach steps closer, his presence filling up every inch of space, and casually slings an arm around my shoulders, tugging me snug against his side. "You're my best girl ever, you know that?" he murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to the top of my head.
And just like that, I melt.
Completely.
Like ice cream under the sun—zero chance of holding it together. My lungs tighten, my stomach flips, and all I can do is breathe him in.
He smells stupidly good, like clean laundry mixed with cedarwood and a hint of something darker—musk and maybe his cologne—that makes my brain short-circuit.
