I sigh. “I’m sorry. I never wanted any of it to happen.”
“Right.” The smile he flashes could slice glass. “Because you sure as hell seemed sorry that morning when you couldn’t get out of that hotel room fast enough.”
Dammit. He thinks I left because I didn’t care, because it was just another hookup for me. If only he knew the truth.
“That’s not why I left.”
“No? Then I’d love to hear the real reason.” He folds his arms over his chest. “I’ve asked before and you’ve given me nothing. So tell me, what the hell was so important that you had to disappear before I woke up?”
I stare at him, this man who trusted me completely for one night and has been paying for it ever since. The truth sits on my tongue like poison. I could tell him about the phone call, about the syndicate, about how leaving him was the hardest thing I’d ever done because I knew what we shared was real. And I knew that staying would have put him in jeopardy.
But that would mean admitting what I am. What I’d been involved in. And I can’t risk his safety by dragging him into my world any deeper than he already is.
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Of course you can’t.” He shakes his head and lets out a snort, disgust clear in his expression. “Because that would require you to be honest about something.”
I open my mouth but then close it when I realize I have no defense.
“You can’t even be man enough to admit any of it. What the fuck ever. I don’t want your explanations or your apologies or whatever bullshit you thought you could feed me. I just want to get through tomorrow night without completely humiliating myself, and then I want to go home and pretend none of this ever happened.”
He stalks back to his bed and yanks the covers down with enough force to tear the sheets. The message is clear. This conversation…or whatever you call it, is over.
I watch him drop onto the mattress with his back to me, every line of his body radiating tension. He lies still, but I can tell from his breathing that he’s not even close to sleep.
That makes two of us.
I turn off my lamp and lie down in the darkness, listening to the city sounds filtering through the windows. Phoenix at night sounds different from Oakland. More isolated, somehow. Which is fitting, considering I’ve never felt more alone.
Staring at the ceiling, I try to focus on anything except the sound of Tate’s breathing across the room. But it’s impossible. Everything about him draws my attention, even when he’s pissed as hell.
Especially when he’s pissed as hell.
Because underneath all that anger, I can still see flashes of the man I held in Vegas. The one who trusted me enough to be vulnerable with, to let me see parts of himself he’d never shown anyone else.
“Zane.” His voice slices through my thoughts.
“Yeah?”
“Tomorrow night, when we get back to Oakland... ” He pauses, probably debating his words. “This doesn’t change anything. We’re still coach and player. Nothing more.”
“I know.”
“Good.” The mattress creaks as he shifts position. “Because I can’t do this again. Whatever this is. It’ll br…”
He stops before the word is out, and the honesty in his voice nearly breaksme. He’s telling me he’s hanging on by a thread, and my presence is the thing threatening to snap it.
“You won’t have to,” I say.
It’s a promise I’m not sure I can keep. But it’s the only thing I can give him right now.
The silence is heavy with everything we’re not saying.
I force my eyes closed and try to sleep, but all I can think about is how close he is. Close enough to touch, if I wanted to destroy what’s left of his trust.
Close enough to hear every small sound he makes as he tries and fails to find peace.
Tomorrow night after the game, we’ll go back to Oakland and pretend this night never happened. We’ll maintain our professional distance and I’ll keep lying to everyone about why I’m really here.
