“I feel too much for you, gorgeous,” he rasps, pressing a hand to his chest. “It’s like it’s taking me over. I’m jealous of guys who call you Denny, for fuck’s sake. I want to tear Dyers apart. I could have quit the hockey team when I learned that Pecan wasn’t sticking up for you?—”
I freeze at the admission. “No way.”
“Yes way. Ifeelwhen I’m with you, Denny. And I like that.”
“What do you mean?”
He slouches into the cushions, but it doesn’t push distance between us. “I drank too much last year. Mom never noticed. She wouldn’t. I-I kept things on the down-low. I went to parties and shit—she encouraged me. Wanted me to have some normalcy in the end. But I knew I was drinking a lot and it was easier to deal with the hangovers than this massive cluster of shit that was building inside me.
“Mom died, Denny. S-She left me. The only person who gave a fuck about me, no strings attached, she l-left?—”
“She’s not the only person, Zach.” His grief hurts my heart.
I nestle into his side, tucking my legs against my chest and turning them into him. He stacks his arm on top and settles nearer.
“When I got here, I was so relieved to be back with you and Pecan but I never showed it. Fuck, I didn’t even know you were rushing.”
“You were partying a lot,” I confirm.
“Not just that. Fucking and drinking and doing stupid shit. I was avoiding everything that hurt. Now that you’re here, it’s like that pain’s there but I’m not alone.”
“You never were.”
“I k-know, but it’s different.” The look he turns on me has my insides twisting left and right. It’s too much. Too soon. But it makes me want to bethat. The promise in his eyes. It makes me wantthat. “This is the Zach I’m supposed to be. I’m supposed to care. I’m not supposed to be a jerk.
“You always joked about managing my big head, but the big head shit leads to a man turning into that Dyers asshole and I never want to be him. But I could have been?—”
“You’d never hurt someone!”
“Who knows what you’ll do when you’re drunk,” he says grimly.
“You don’t have a personality transplant!”
His tension abates, making him sag even more. “No, maybe you’re right.”
“Damn straight, I am. I know who you are, Zach, even if you don’t.”
His smile’s shaky. “I want to be this Zach. It hurts. Like the grief… some days, it’s all I…”
When he breaks off, I whisper, “Is that why, when you fight, you get into it? I’ve noticed you’re on edge on the ice. Last week, it looked like you wanted to tear that Eagles player a new asshole.”Never mind yesterday.
He gnaws on the inside of his cheek.
It’s all the answer I need.
I’m just glad that fighting isn’t allowed in NCAA hockey and that he has enough self-control to keep it contained.
I slide my hand over his, bridging our fingers together. “I’m here for you, Zach. Always. No strings. Forever.”
His eyes catch mine. His smile, when it comes, is so loaded with relief that I have to taste it, and it tastes like love.
It’s crazy.
I know it is.
After that phone call with Dad, it’s probably too fast and reactionary and makes no sense?—
But that’s me and Zach.
