by Emma Salah
He didn’t know how to stop this, how to stop the painful sobbing coming from his mother. So, he told her something he hadn’t been planning on telling her.
“I met someone.”
The tears didn’t stop immediately and he wondered if she had heard him.
“Did you hear me, Mom? I met someone,” he repeated.
Bloodshot eyes met his. “Oh.”
“You don’t sound very happy?”
She shook her head. “No, of course I’m happy for you. It’s just that I thought...”
“What? What did you think?”
“I always thought you and Reagan would end up together.” His mom rushed on. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you, the way you look at her—when you think no one is watching, that is. That girl has clearly carried a torch for you since she was a little girl. And the things that she has done for you over the years, like sneaking out with you in the middle of the night or standing up to your father are way beyond what a friend does for another friend.”
Zac leaned back, stunned. She was right. Even before that day in Muckberry Field, Reagan had always been there for him. He barely had a single good memory without Reagan in it. During college, they had spent many days finding new coffee shops to feed her addiction. Now, as a professional athlete, with barely any time, they saw each other constantly or messaged each other. On the days he was feeling shitty about one thing or another, Reagan would pop out of nowhere and challenge him to a game and before he knew it, he was laughing and thinking about nothing but her. She also came to watch him play whenever she could and that wasn’t just to see Aidan, because most of the time, they would end up going to a pizza joint just the two of them. It wasn’t just her though.
He did the same thing. He constantly went out of his way for her. Like when she had been ill for a week last year, he had spent every day with her, feeding her soup and keeping her company watching TV. Her smile made his chest feel tight, so he did everything he could to make her smile, like take her to Comic-Con even though he hated events like that with a passion. And fuck, what about all the kissing they did? Zac ran a hand through his hair.
“I hate to break this to you, but I don’t kiss my friends at night. I don’t make out with them in my car or dry hump them on a sofa. And I definitely don’t fuck them against the wall of some party.” Reagan had said that to him. And she was right. They weren’t friends. They had never been friends. He knew what friendship looked like. It’s what he had with Aidan, with his hockey teammates and with the other Thomas siblings. They had always been more.
“I’m right here, Zac. I’m all yours.” His. His little vixen. His Ree. She had always been his.
All these years, he had been too fucking blind to see it.
Zac looked at his mother and spontaneously leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.
“You are a very wise woman, Amy Quinn.”
“That is what a certain son of mine keeps on saying.” She grinned, shedding a couple of years off her face.
“I have to go,” he said, standing up.
“I thought you might say that.”
They walked out of the kitchen together. His mother paused while he continued towards the front door.
“Bye, Mom. I’ll see you soon,” he said, eager to get out of this place now that he had done everything he had set out to do, when his mother spoke.
“Are you going to come back?” she asked, nervously.
He turned around. “I don’t want to lose you, Mom.”
“And I don’t want to lose you either.”
“I never want to come back here, again. I can’t. I can’t look at this place and see the good that you do. I just can’t,” he admitted. “But I am willing to take you anywhere, at any place, for us to see each other.”
“As long as it is not in this house, right?”
Zac nodded, relieved that she understood that much at least.
She didn’t say anything for a moment. She was clearly thinking hard about something. He didn’t want to rush her, but he needed to get back into the city. He had to do something before going to see Reagan. There were so many things they needed to talk about. He hoped she would listen.
“I’ll sell it,” his mother suddenly announced.
Fuck, that was not what he had meant at all. He stepped forward.
“Mom, you don’t have to do this for me—” he began.
“You’re right,” she said. “This is the place where we bled, where we dealt with more bruises and wounds than any person should ever have to. There might be good here, but for you, you will never see beyond the bad. As long as we stay here. I’m going to sell it. Get a new, fresh start. This is just a house after all.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but she stopped him.
“For years, I didn’t protect you. Let me protect you now, Zachariah. Let me be a good mom, for once in my life.”
He wasn’t expecting that, but he was grateful. The last tension he felt in his stomach eased away. He nodded slowly.
“Okay.” She smiled. “Give me a hug before you go.”
He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed.
“Thank you, Mom.”
“I love you, Zachariah. You might be a little broken, but you are not alone. You have never been alone. Let other people in. Don’t be afraid to love them back,” his mother whispered in his ear.
“I’ll try.” He let go of her.
With one last smile, he stepped out of his childhood home.
Zac stood on the empty porch outside of his house and tipped his head back. He looked up at the bright sky. And he breathed. For the first time in twenty-seven years, he took a breath that wasn’t filled with past regrets. He breathed easy.
Chapter Twenty-Four
A few days after Zac ripped out her heart, Reagan stood in Mr. Mitchell’s office, shoulders back and eyes clear and direct. She didn’t come to play; she came to get what’s hers. She had dressed that morning with war on her mind. She was in her skinniest stilettos that were borderline work inappropriate, a black pencil skirt and a beautiful green blouse. Her curly hair was tamed and pulled back. She looked fierce if she did say so herself.
Alan, her boss, sat next to her, in a seat directly opposite the large desk from where Mitchell was currently staring at him intensely.
“What is this about, Alan?” Mitchell asked, not shifting his gaze, setting down his pen.
“This is about Trent Newman, sir,” Reagan told him.
He sighed. “I know you’re not happy with my decision, but I would hope you’d understand where I’m coming from. You, Alan, should know where I’m coming from.”
Alan shook his head, his black hair streaked with silver barely moving from all the gel he used to keep it slicked back.
“No, I don’t understand, Mitchell. Why would you allow Daniel to sway you into such a foolish decision?”
Mitchell’s jaw twitched. What, you can dish it out, but you can’t take it? Reagan smiled with a little more teeth than usual, but she was feeling particularly fierce. She’d worked her ass off for this company. I’m not about to let them minimize who I am and what I’ve accomplished, no thank you.
“This decision,” Mitchell began, “was based on the fact that Daniel is a senior agent and Reagan is not. Trent is an important client and needs to feel like we are giving him as much support as possible.”
“Trent chose to sign with Mitchells not because of Daniel, but because of me. He knows how important he is, because he can see how hard I’m working for his best interest. That’s why the shoe deal is—”
“The deal is perfect—”
“Please, let me finish what I was going to say.” She said it evenly, but firmly.
Mitchell leaned back and, for a moment, she wondered if he was going to throw her out of his office. Then, he nodd
ed.
She let out a deep breath.
“Thank you. As I was saying, I understand I’m not a senior agent, but I do know what is best for my client and it’s not that.” She stepped forward and dropped the folder she’d been clutching onto the table. “It’s this.”
Mitchell flicked it open, casually. “And what’s this?”
“A deal to become the face of Jude’s tracksuits with a portion of the money going to children with disabilities and who want to play sports. Something Trent is really passionate about since his youngest sister has Down syndrome and is a netball player.”
He finally looked at Reagan. Good, now maybe he’ll start to take me a bit more seriously. As tempting as it was to scream about how his reasons were bullshit and that he just didn’t want to let her into the good old boys’ club, it was not the right tactic. She let out a deep breath, shaking off her anger at the situation, and focused on how she was going to work it to her advantage.
Reagan waited as her boss continued to leaf through the folder, reading the contracts intently. Her heart was beating fast and she had the urge to bite and lick away the ChapStick on her lips. But she was done second-guessing herself. She was damn good at her job and this was a good deal, amazing actually. If he didn’t like it, then he could shove his perfectly ironed tie right up his—
“Everything looks good from what I can see,” he said.
“Don’t downplay it, Mitchell. You know it and I know it. She really is the best person for the job.” Alan rolled his eyes.
“Fine, you’re right, Alan. Reagan has clearly shown that she knows Trent very well and would be a good fit as an agent for him.”
She blinked. Other than the fact that he was speaking about her, rather than to her, this was a win, right?
“You’re saying you agree with me?” she asked, slowly.
He smiled. “Yes, Reagan. I’m saying I agree with you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He nodded. And look, he actually spoke directly to me!
“Thank you, Reagan, you can go.” Alan stood up, imposing as he was nearly a foot taller than her. “Mitchell and I need to discuss the appropriate reprimand for Daniel since he went above my head and could have potentially lost us millions.”
She left the office, sniggering to herself. I hope Alan roasts him over a fire and then chews his ass out. Excitement coursed through her. Oh god, I did it! I have to tell Zac that I finally—She lost her smile. When she felt the familiar heat crawling up her throat and the burning at the back of her eyes, she swallowed. No. No more tears. She was done settling for less than she deserved. It was time to grow up and grow strong.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Reagan looked through the peephole, heart pounding as she saw the outline of a very familiar jaw. Why? Why? If he had come this time yesterday, she would have been in her work clothes, but now...she looked down at what she was wearing and groaned. It had heartbroken written all over it. Her short-sleeved comfy dress came up to her knees, holes in the hem and a bright blue stain over the left breast where her pen had accidentally leaked. And her hair was pulled back in a single ponytail, lifeless and unwashed. I am a mess.
The knock came again, the door shaking beneath her palms.
“Open the door, Ree,” Zac ordered, his voice coming in loud and clear. “You can’t avoid me forever.”
I wasn’t planning to, she thought in reply.
In the back of Reagan’s mind, she knew that this was going to happen. That Zac would want to talk to her and convince her to still be friends. But when two days went by, then three, then four, she had been lulled into a false sense of security that maybe he would give her time. I’m not ready, she panicked. I can’t take it right now.
But she had to. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door.
“I—”
Zac stepped forward and she took a giant step back, making sure not an inch of him touched her. He walked into her house, with long purposeful strides. She shut the door and quickly followed behind him.
“Zac!” she snapped. “Look, I’m not ready—”
He faced her in her living room. “If you think I’m going to leave and let you keep thinking whatever fucked-up things you are thinking, you’re out of your mind.”
“It’s not fucked up.”
He crossed his arms, his leather jacket creasing. “Yes, it is.”
Reagan let out a sound of frustration, throwing up her hands. He made her so mad. But the mad was nothing compared to the hurt.
“I’ll tell you what I’m thinking,” Reagan said to him, looking him in the eye. “I’m thinking that our two weeks to explore a relationship between us is finished. And guess what? You were right. We don’t work. We’re better off as friends. Our friendship means more to me than losing you over sexual chemistry. We should forget about the last two weeks and go back to being friends. That’s what I think.”
The words physically hurt to say. They’d hurt the first time she had uttered them in front of the mirror in her bathroom and they hurt every time she’d practiced them in her head. At least her eyes were dry this time.
“Is that what you want? To be friends?”
“I...”
He took a step forward; she took a step back. But he kept on coming. Her back smacked into the wall.
“Stop,” she told him, holding up a hand.
He ignored her. He reached for her hand and placed it over his chest, over his heart. Her own heart stuttered. Reagan was so confused right now. The way he was looking at her was so different than the way he usually did. His blue eyes were fixed on her. There were no barriers, no walls. He looked amazing, better than amazing in fact. The fatigue that had lingered in his eyes from the recurring nightmares was gone. He was clean-shaven, clear-eyed and seemed determined about something. He stepped deeper into her space, until she was surrounded by him. His jeans rubbing up against her bare legs. His chest against her chest. She couldn’t breathe without breathing his scent. Or without feeling his breath against her lips. It made them ache. It made her ache.
“Zac,” she whispered, looking up at him.
“You look confused, Ree.”
“I am confused,” she admitted. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
I’ve finally given him everything he’s been asking for. She wasn’t going to fight anymore. So, why is he doing this? Why was he tormenting her?
They said nothing for a moment. Zac finally sighed, lowering his forehead onto hers. Reagan closed her eyes, imagining for a moment that everything between them was fine and not a fucked-up mess.
“I’m sorry, Ree.”
No, I don’t want to hear this.
“Zac—”
“I need to say this,” he murmured, before continuing. “You’re not just Aidan’s little sister to me. You’re one of my best friends, one of the most important people in my life. And I hurt you. I hurt you when I threw you out of my apartment. I hurt you when I refused to let you in and when I ignored your feelings like they didn’t matter. Fuck, Ree, I never meant to hurt you.”
“I know you didn’t.”
“It doesn’t make it any better that I did.”
“No, it doesn’t,” she admitted. “But I get it, Zac.”
“I don’t think you do, Reagan. When I was living at home, I spent all my time dreaming of the day I could finally leave. When I finally left, I spent all my time determined to never go back and to only look forward. I pushed everything from my childhood into a small box in my mind and told myself I never needed to open it up again. And for a while that worked. I stopped thinking about it so damn much, the nightmares were almost nonexistent. Then it all started up again two weeks ago.”
Two weeks ago, when she had made the stupid dating proposal.
“Something about us being together threw me back to a time I never wa
nted to remember—”
“I’m sorry,” Reagan choked out. The nightmares. His fear. Everything was her fault. She had pushed and pushed.
He shook his head. “Let me finish, Ree. I’ve realized that even though I’ve mostly gotten over my childhood, I haven’t gotten over how it made me feel. Worthless. Unworthy. You are so much better than me, Reagan Thomas. You are beautiful, caring, loving, an amazing friend. I don’t deserve you.”
She had no idea what to say to that, except for...
“How can you think that?”
“I come from a bitter old man and a weak woman. Together, they taught me that love is either nonexistent or not enough. I didn’t think I knew what love was or even how to love.”
“Zac,” she began gently. “You’ve been showing me what love was since the first moment I met you. You know how to love.”
She saw the pleasure her words caused him and felt it when he let go of her hand to wrap his arms around her. Oh god, to think he had been carrying this around all this time made her sick. How could she be so selfish? She had forgotten that above all else, Zac was her friend. And she’d been a shitty friend. Slowly, she put her hands under his leather jacket and around his waist.
“Yeah,” he said into her hair. “I’ve been realizing a few things over the last couple of days. That I can’t control where I came from, but I can control how I feel about it. I need to stop letting the past dictate my future.”
She was sure he could feel how hard her heart was beating. He’s going to say it now. He’s going to say how he just wants to be friends and nothing more. Her mouth dried.
“I got you something.” Zac shifted back and put his hand inside his jacket pocket.
Shit, she didn’t want any more of Zac’s “gifts.” She tried to push him away.
“If it’s flowers, I don’t want it!”
He stopped her by tightening his grip on her waist. “It’s not flowers. Look.”
Okay, Reagan, just look, if you don’t like it, you can pretend to... She stared down at the case in his hand.
“What is this?” she whispered.