“It’s Zach, Briggsy, or Ten.” Zach clarifies the names he wants me to call him. He’s grinning stupidly, his dizziness long forgotten. “Some fans still call me hot-ass rookie, even though it’s my third year in the league. Or it was…”
The smile vanishes from his lips, and happiness flickers out of his eyes. Shuttered looks unnatural on him. His vulnerability is the reason I answer his earlier question, revealing more about my history with my brother than I should. I’m crossing a line I drew, but maybe sharing this with him will enforce my boundaries. He can’t want to catch my brother’s wrath either.
“Matt’s always been overprotective of me. I love him for caring, but I wish he’d trust my judgment.”
“I have one of those.” Zach’s tone no longer has its teasing edge. “Melanie’s a couple years older than me, but she treats me like she did when we were kids. I told her I’m fine, but she still calls every day.”
“Well, you did get absolutely trucked.” The words tumble from my mouth before I can consider how he’ll react to them. My careful filter doesn’t work with Zach Briggs, apparently.
One dark eyebrow raises. “You watched it?”
“I was curious.” I shrug. “What do you remember?”
Zach sucks in a breath. “Volk and I were on the ice before the game.” Volk, a.k.a. Wolves star Alexei Volkov, Kennedy’s boyfriend, and my brother’s best friend. “He pointed out this sign in the crowd asking me to a homecoming dance. I showed him one begging him to call the woman a good girl. He gets so riled when I bring up shit like that, so obviously I keep doing it.”
Zach laughs, the sound a balm to my worry for him.
“Anyway,” he continues, “I remember bits and pieces. Bright lights in the hallway to the locker room. Matt and Gemma in the front seat of the car. And… you.”
“Me?”
His ears tinge pink. “When you were in my room.”
“I remember,” I say. “I didn’t think you would.”
“You have an unforgettable face, Finley.”
I smother a smile by leaning into my arm propped, on my tucked-in legs. I’m charmed by this earnest guy sitting beside me. He’s unlike any of my brothers’ other friends. Whenever one of them risked the Harris wrath to hit on me, they used terrible lines. Stuff they’d said to a thousand girls. Somehow I know—like I know I’m meant to be a gymnast—Zach hasn’t said this to anyone else.
“We should sleep.” I push myself to my feet. Zach’s lips part, but I’m not ready for whatever he might say. “Maybe next time we run into each other, we can both be upright.”
I hold my hand out for Zach, and he takes it, warmth immediately zinging up my arm.
“You’re saying you don’t like being on the ground?” he teases.
My face burns when our gazes clash. I’m hit with memories of him standing in front of me in that locker room, staring at me with such reverence. I look away, wanting to hide from the truth. I don’t want him to think it might happen again.
I loosen my grip on Zach’s hand, but his remains steady—because of the dizziness or his last statements, I’m unsure. Regardless, I don’t resist, soaking in the zap of energy our contact ignites.
I try not to think about what it means.
3
Zach
Finley’s last name isHarris.
Is that revelation the source of my headache? Or is it the concussion? Probably the concussion, but being attracted to my friend’s sister isn't helping the pain. At least he isn’t here to see the way my gaze remains glued to the staircase as I wait for her to descend the morning after she found me on the kitchen floor.
How long has she lived in Palmer City, in this house? Matt never said anything about his sister moving in with him, but I haven’t seen Gemma or Matt much since they became parents. Still, it bothers me that Finley’s been in my city and I didn’t know.
“You look like you have a raging hangover.” Gemma waves wildly at me as she zips around the kitchen, pulling cooking equipment and ingredients from different cabinets.
“I wish I did,” I grumble.
I’m wearing sunglasses and a hoodie to avoid ending up on the kitchen floor again. I don’t need Finley’s third impressionof me to be as embarrassing as the first two. I’ve never found an explanation for why this incredible woman didn’t ditch me immediately after I asked her to help me find a restroom, let alone get on her knees for me. I never told anyone what happened, tucking away the memory of her warm mouth wrapped around my cock, only bringing it out when alone.
Shit. I cannot think about that. I can’t think about itat all.
