Meeting tonight. 8 PM. You know the place. Don’t be late.
“You’re doing it again,” Tate says, arms folded across his chest as he watches me read the message.
“Doing what?”
“Pulling away.”
I shove the phone back in my pocket, but the damage is done. I can see it in his face.
“I have to,” I say.
“No, you’re choosing to. There’s a difference.” He pulls on his shoes. “At least this time, you’re telling me instead of just disappearing.”
“You want the truth?” I ask, and something in my voice makes him go still.
“Yeah. I do.”
I take a breath. “I owe money. A lot of money. To people who don’t take no for an answer.”
His face changes, surprise and concern seeping into his expression. “How much?”
“More than I can afford. More than I’ll ever be able to pay on a coach’s salary. I made some bad bets when I was playing. Thought I could win the cash back. Instead I just dug myself in deeper.”
“Jesus, Zane.” He scrapes a hand down the front of his face.
“The guy you saw me with at the restaurant? That’s my handler. He makes sure I don’t run, makes sure I keep paying what I can.” I rub the back of my neck, hating how easily the lies tumble from my lips. “And if they think someone else is important to me... ”
I don’t finish the sentence. Don’t need to.
“They’ll use me to get to you,” he says.
“Yeah.”
He’s quiet for a long moment, processing it all. When he looks at me again, there’s something different in his eyes. Disappointment.
My gut clenches.
“So what are you saying? That this was a mistake?”
“I’m saying you need to be smart about this. About us. I’m saying maybe we should step back before someone gets hurt.”
“Right.” His voice is flat now. “Step back.”
“Look, I didn’t say I wanted?—”
“No, you’re right.” He’s already moving away from me, putting distance between us. “This was always temporary, anyway. I knew that. We both did.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He looks at me, and there’s a wall there now that wasn’t there five minutes ago, his hazel eyes hard. “You owe money to dangerous people. Getting involved with me puts us both at risk. The smart thing is to walk away before it gets worse.”
He’s throwing my own words back at me, and my heart sinks.
Tate sounds tired when he speaks again. “Look, I get it, Zane. I do. But I can’t keep doing this. I don’t want to get close to someone who’s always got one foot out the door. I can’t open myself up like that again.”
“This isn’t like Vegas,” I tell him.
“You’re already pulling away. Already making excuses for why this can’t work.” He shakes his head. “At least this time you told me why you’re leaving instead of just disappearing.”
