The others exchange glances but wisely keep quiet. Unfortunately for Zale, I don’t let disrespect slide. Especially not now that I’m responsible for leading this team.
“Something you want to say, Evans?” I call out to him. “Or are you just in a bad mood today?”
He stops walking and slowly turns to face me. The anger on his face unfiltered.
“Hey,” Griffin cuts in quickly. “How about we give you two a minute and head inside?”
I nod and toss him the house key without breaking eye contact. We wait until the door closes behind the rest of the team before speaking.
“Spit it out,” I say when Zale continues glaring.
“What are you doing here?” he asks through clenched teeth. “Shouldn’t you be off living your celebrity surfer life?”
“Excuse me?”
He steps closer, shaking with anger. “Funny hownowis the time you decide to retire and plant roots in Saltwater Springs.”
I raise a brow. “Was there a better time for you?”
He scoffs, looking me up and down like I’m something stuck to the bottom of his shoe. “Maybe a year ago, when you knocked up my sister.”
He turns his back to me and starts to walk toward the front door, but I’m not finished yet.
“Hey,” I shout out, following him until I’m close enough to grab his shoulder.
He spins faster than I expect and connects his fist cleanly with my jaw. Pain bursts across my face as I stumble back, gripping my jaw.
“That’s for leaving her to deal with it alone,” he spits. “I’ll never forgive you.”
This time he doesn’t head for the house. He walks straight past me, down the sidewalk, and keeps going until he disappears from view.
I feel something warm trail down my lip, and when I wipe it away, my fingers come back streaked with blood.
I swallow the urge to chase him and give into the fight he clearly wants, but I know that’s just my pride talking. And if I’m being honest, his anger isn’t misplaced—not entirely. He’s Zalea’s brother, and he’s protective. If I had a sister andsomeone put her through the same situation, I might’ve done worse than throw a punch.
I text Griffin that I won’t be back until practice starts in a couple hours and slide into my SUV. There’s a tradition I keep whenever Zalea isn’t feeling well, and today feels like a day to honour it.
I parkoutside her house and grab the brown paper bag from the passenger seat before stepping out. Old habits take over before I can stop them, and just like when we were kids, I slip around the side of the house and toss a pebble at her window.
After ten minutes of standing there like an idiot and three pebbles later, I accept that either Zalea isn’t home or she’s deliberately ignoring me.
“Okay,” I mutter. “Guess I’ll use the doorbell like an adult.”
I circle back towards the sidewalk and do a double take when I find Zalea sitting on her porch, laughing, not sick at all. Beside her is none other than her ex, Paul McIntosh, close enough to make my jaw tighten.
She notices me first, and her laughter fades as her eyes travel over me, slow and assessing. I pretend not to register it, but Paul clearly does. He follows her gaze, sees me, and stiffens before standing.
“Well, look who’s finally back,” he says loudly. “Gabriel Matthews.”
“In the flesh,” I reply, walking over. I sneak a glance at Zalea before looking back to him. “How’ve you been, McIntosh?”
“Life’s been good.” His grin turns cocky as he glances back at her. “Me and my girlfriend here?—”
“Paul—” she interrupts, a warning in her tone.
He just chuckles and faces me again. “We’ve been keeping busy.”
Girlfriend.
