by Taylor Hart
“Look, I was thinking all day too, but not about my past exes.”
She shoved him.
He laughed. “Listen, if you think we’re going too fast because we don’t know about the last ten years, let’s fill it in, baby.”
She let out a snicker. “Oh—tonight, in one conversation, we fill it all in?”
“Gotta start somewhere. Plus, our moms told us a ton.”
“True.” She thought of the question she’d had for a long time. “Tell me: what, exactly, happened with you and Dax? How come you weren’t talking last year? Did it have something to do with why he called his wedding off the night before?”
He blinked like a deer in the headlights. “Yep.”
She shrugged. “Our moms. Yours was worried.”
“Of course.”
“Well?” she pressed.
“The supermodel he was going to marry was a predator.” He swallowed. “The woman kissed me after the rehearsal dinner the night before the wedding, and Dax caught her. Seriously, she threw herself at me. Of course, he blamed me, and bam! No talking for a year.”
She furrowed her brow in confusion. “If he blamed you, why didn’t he didn’t marry her?”
“Because he knew. He knew deep down.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Kind of like how you know deep down. About us.”
Her heart rate kicked up. “You’ve always been intense, haven’t you?”
Ziggy lifted and lowered one shoulder. “I just know when I’m right about something.”
She didn’t answer.
He waved a hand in dismissal. “Anyway, all of that crap is in the past. I guess that has been one good thing Ty’s diagnosis has done. It brought me and Dax back together. Plus, you met his new girlfriend—fiancée, I mean.” He corrected himself with a grin. “I have a good feeling about Sky.”
Sophia grinned at him, loving how Ziggy hadn’t held it against Dax. She loved so many things about Ziggy.
“What?” he asked.
She already felt like she’d been pushing so much. “What? What?”
Ziggy hesitated, then flipped her hand open and traced her life line, something he’d always done. “I don’t think you’re going to be okay with us until we’ve beaten this whole thing with Marshall to death, are you?”
Chapter 18
“It’s not just about Marshall,” Sophia sputtered, going all red.
“Of course it’s not,” Ziggy said, winking at her. “It’s about me.” He said it cockily, even though he was feeling far from cocky at the moment. “It’s about us, but it appears we’re going have to hash out you and Marshall to get to the important parts.” In fact, he was feeling as vulnerable as he’d been when Soph had broken his heart all those years ago.
Yanking her hand back, she appeared to be searching for the right words. “Marshall … Marshall—”
“—as you explained, was filling time until now.” He flashed her another grin.
She glared at him. “Don’t do that. Don’t do that whole cocky football player thing because you’re trying to hide your feelings.”
Dang, the women knew him. “I’m not hiding anything.” He was getting a bit annoyed by her holding back, even though she was right. It was fast if she was only looking at the last couple of days. “Do you know what I went through the first year away from you?”
“Oh, you mean the year I thought you had dumped me for football?” She cocked an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “Yeah, I do.”
He thought of that first year, then nodded. They had both been in the same spot. “Every time I saw a pizza, I thought of you.”
“I told you I hated that nickname,” she said softly.
He pointed at her. “You’re the one who always wanted pizza.”
She grinned. “I like it, but I don’t want the nickname.”
“We don’t get to choose our nicknames,” Ziggy said. “Soph, every time something went well, I wanted to call you. Every time …” He exhaled, remembering that misery. “I needed you so much. I had no idea how much I needed you until …”
She took his hand back. “I know.”
Something passed between them. All Ziggy knew was that he needed her again. He would talk about whatever crap she needed to talk about to get her back. “Agh. So, wait, Marshall was a vegan hipster who ate pizza with a fork, right? Probably didn’t have the decency to shove it in.”
Her eyes widened, and she giggled. “Stop.”
“The reporter out to save the world that you met at Oxford.” He tried a truly horrible English accent. “I’m sure he can quote Yeats and Shelley and Byron.”
“I’m impressed. You know your poets.”
“Hey, I did graduate from college. I had to take nineteenth-century poetry.”
She still smiled. “A degree in marketing, I know.”
Ziggy liked that she knew all about him, too. “The guy probably fainted at the sight of a spider, and don’t plan on him defending you if a zombie attack happens. Let’s be real.” Marshall was a weenie compared to Ziggy, and the thought made him happy.
“It wasn’t all like that.”
His patience with Marshall talk was dissipating, but he relented. “Tell me what it was like.”
For a moment, she didn’t say anything.
“Tell me.”
She shrugged, and her eyes misted with tears. “He hurt me. I … You don’t want to hear this.”
He squeezed her hand. “I’ve known you forever, Soph. You don’t have to hide your feelings or your pain from me.” He meant it, too. He meant it more than he’d ever realized. He loved her so darn much. “I want to hear it all. The good. The bad. The hard. The heartbreaking. Give it all to me.”
She sniffed, then laughed. “He was a vegan, and he did eat pizza with a fork. How did you know that?”
“Yes!” He clapped. “I knew it.”
Her smile widened. “It was annoying.”
“I knew you loved my piggishness.”
“Don’t gloat.” She sighed. “I just feel like a fool. Why didn’t I see what our relationship was?”
His heart stirred, because he wanted what she wanted. “I get it.”
“You do?”
“More than ever.” He grinned at her, allowing himself to tell the truth. “I didn’t marry the doctor because, as I said, she wasn’t you. But we wanted different things in the end.”
“Oh? Like what?”
“A family,” he said simply. “And it wasn’t like I faulted her for not wanting kids. I mean, she was a doctor. She was doing a lot of good in the world, and she knew she couldn’t make time for both.”
“That … stinks.”
“I felt like a jerk too. Like I should be more enlightened or something that she wanted to make a ‘choice’—” He made air quotes. “—about not having kids.”
She squeezed his hand. “I’m sure there were other women who wanted to have a family.”
He stared into her beautiful blue eyes. “None I could see at the house making dinner, yelling at the kids to stop jumping from the roof to the trampoline, hosing down a bunch of dirty boys in the backyard, and laughing while my dad picked her up and threw her in the pool.”
“Your mother. You compared them all to her.”
He nodded, scooting closer to her. “Maybe. Or maybe I saw you.”
The air thickened between them.
Her gaze intensified. “Maybe I want that, too.”
He moved even closer, pulling her into him. “I still love you, Soph, and I want you. The woman now. The girl who knew me then. Maybe I don’t know all of the details, but …” He took her hand and put it in the center of his chest. “—what counts, you know that’s in here. You’ve seen me my whole life. We were best friends our whole lives. I want all of you. I want your future. I want to give you my future.”
“Why are you saying this? We’ve been apart for ten years. You can’t be so sure.”
“Just like eighth grade and that Bryan Adams song when I said it the first ti
me—I’m sure.” Emotion surged inside of him, and he blinked. “Ziggy and Soph forever.”
Tears filled her eyes. “I …”
“I know. You don’t have to say it until you’re ready.” He flashed a grin. “But I’m still going to kiss you.”
Chapter 19
A thud sounded, and Sophia yanked out of Ziggy’s embrace. “What was that?”
“Focus, Charles,” he said in a football coach voice. “The lips.” He bent and met her lips again.
She let herself succumb to his lips and felt herself getting lost.
Then he jumped a little. “Did you hear that?”
Now, she was freaked out. “What?”
Ziggy scrambled off the couch, looking poised for attack. “I don’t know. What did you hear the first time?”
“Like a thud coming from the basement.” Worry coursed through her as she stood. “Didn’t Ty say that the rumors were that the sounds always started in the basement? Would the pilot light make that kind of noise?”
Ziggy’s face turned white as a sheet. “No, a pilot light wouldn’t make that kind of noise.”
She pointed at him. “Do not. Freak. On me.”
He put his hands up as if to surrender. “I’m not freaking, Charles.”
She could tell he was. He’d always been freaked out about scary stuff. “Oh my gosh, you’re scared.”
“Am not,” he said, sounding just like he had in junior high.
Another thud rang out in the room.
Ziggy jumped.
“Crap.”
Ziggy moved in front of her. “You stay. I’ll go check it out.” He edged toward the basement door, picking up a vase on the coffee table and holding it like a bat. He moved slowly toward the door, listening.
Another thud.
“Ack!” Ziggy jumped, dropping the vase. It shattered.
“Oh brother.” She moved carefully past him to the basement. “You really think you’re going to protect me when you can’t hold a vase?”
“What are you doing? Come back.”
“Going in the basement to see who’s going to kill us,” she said, roughly whipping back the door and trying to turn on the light. She flicked the switch, but nothing happened. She moved down the stairs.
“The power’s out.” Ziggy gripped one of her hands, pulling her back. “Wait.”
With her other hand, she brought up the flashlight on her phone and they crept down the stairs. “C’mon.” She held up the flashlight to see the whole room, but it was just filled with old stuff, a ping pong table, luggage, old lights, décor, boxes—
Thump!
Both of them jumped again, and she madly searched for what was making the noise.
“Soph, let’s go!” Ziggy whispered in her ear. “I don’t care if I’m a baby. There’s a ghost. There’s a freaking ghost! Go behind me.”
Even though she was freaked, she was more annoyed at Ziggy. “Would the pilot light matter for the power?”
“No.” Ziggy pulled her to the heater. “Shine the light, please.” He went to a push-up position to get a better look. “Pilot light is off. Hand me a match.”
Just as she was grabbing a match, the sound came again. Thunk! She jolted.
Ziggy scrambled to his feet and pulled her into his chest. “It’s okay.” His heart beat wildly against her. “Let’s call the cops.”
She pushed back, holding her phone out and looking around. The light illuminated the Chucky dolls.
“The stupid dolls!” Ziggy squealed, pulling her closer.
They were seriously freaky. She laughed. “It’s fine.”
Thunk!
Both of them jumped.
Thunk!
“Let’s just call the cops and wait.” Ziggy pulled out his phone.
“No.” Irritation replaced her fear. “There’s a door that leads outside. Let’s go out there.” She pulled him with her.
“Wait.” Ziggy took her hand and led her up the cement stairs.
Thunk!
“Ahh!” Ziggy screamed in a high-pitched tone and covered his ears. “It’s going to get us! Run!”
Everything inside of her wasn’t going to stop now. She pushed open the outside door in time to see a figure in the shadows, lifting what looked like a small axe and then bringing it down.
Thump!
“The ghost!” Ziggy cried out, yanking her hand back and pointing to the shadow.
She felt paralyzed, like her scream was stuck inside her throat.
“Mr. Brady?” old man Baxter’s voice asked.
“What?” Ziggy said, confused and relieved. He moved in front of her.
Sophia felt herself relax, and she let out a light laugh. “Mr. Baxter?”
Ziggy laughed too, taking her hand. “What are you doing out here, sir?”
Mr. Baxter looked between them. “Gosh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see the RV, and I knew the power was out. I’m out here banging the generator because I didn’t want you to go without electricity.”
Ziggy acted all macho. “Oh, yeah. Thank you.” His laugh was off-key.
“Sorry,” said Mr. Baxter. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Ziggy waved a hand in the air, looking all calm and cool. “Oh no. You didn’t scare us.”
All Sophia could do was cover her face and giggle, thinking of how Ziggy wanted to throw a vase at “the ghost.”
Mr. Baxter grinned, looking between them. He winked at her. “Good. I noticed Ms. Charles let out a high-pitched yell.”
“Yeah,” she said, covering for Ziggy.
He nodded to Ziggy. “Maybe you’re a ghost hunter. Those shows come here sometimes. You would be good on one.”
“Right.” Ziggy let out a skittered laugh.
Suddenly, his phone went off in a loud version of an AC/DC song, making all of them jump.
Ziggy shook his head and looked at his phone. “It’s Paul. I gotta get this.” He moved away from them and answered.
“Sorry about that,” Mr. Baxter said. “But you could have a job here, little lady, ushering the tourists through with bravery like yours.”
She nodded. “Thanks.” Her attention wandered to what Ziggy was saying.
“Okay, thanks for calling. We’re coming.” He pressed end and turned to face them. “Mr. Baxter, I know this is a lot to ask, but could I borrow your truck? Or do you have a car I could borrow? I’d pay you, of course.”
“Sure.” He nodded to the big barn on the side of the property. “Got a Cadillac in there. Go for it.”
“Thanks.” He moved toward the house, taking her hand. “That was Paul. It appears Ty needs help.”
Chapter 20
When Ziggy showed up at the Moose Bar in downtown Jackson, Paul was outside, staring at his phone with a downcast expression.
“What happened?” Ziggy asked, all amped up. It’d been hard to remain calm on the way into town.
Paul jolted and looked between them. “I didn’t film it, I promise. The dude is having a full freak-out. You’ll have to pay off the owner. Ty got in a fight, and there’s some damage. I asked the owner not to call the cops and told him you would cover the expenses.”
Ziggy rushed through the front door, winding through the people quickly. He felt Soph take his hand, and he hesitated for only a moment before squeezing hers.
When they arrived at the back, he knocked on the bathroom door. “Ty, open up.” He had tried to text him countless times and had even called on the way here, but Ty’d been ignoring him.
“Go away.”
“No,” he growled through the crack between doors. “Open up. Not going away, little bro, so you better come out.”
“No,” Ty said again.
Ziggy wanted to kick the door in.
Sophia knocked on the door. “Ty, come on. Let us talk to you.”
“Go away, Soph.” Ty’s words came back sharp.
Ziggy knew Ty was embarrassed. After all, if he was the one having a freak-out, he would be embarrassed too. “I need to do
this brother to brother,” he told Sophia.
She nodded, moving away. “I’ll go deal with the owner.”
“Wait.” Ziggy pulled out his wallet and handed her a credit card. “Put the damages on this.”
She took the card, and her face was all business. “Okay.”
Ziggy pounded again. “Dude, open it before I kick it in.”
It must have gotten through to Ty that Ziggy really would kick it in, because the door cracked. Ziggy walked in slowly. Ty wasn’t looking at him. Fortunately, the bathroom wasn’t a stink fest. It appeared clean and remodeled, so that was one positive.
In the mirror on the wall, Ziggy could see tears on Ty’s face. “What’s going on?”
Ty looked at him, his face blotchy and eyes red. “The guy swung first. I didn’t start the fight. I just ended it.”
Ziggy wondered if anyone was hurt. “Who was it?”
“I don’t know. He just left.” Ty turned back to the wall and then punched it, hard. Knuckle-cracking hard. Blood ran down his hand.
Ziggy stood stock-still. He could tell that Ty was drunk, but there was something else too.
Ty exhaled slowly. “I don’t think he’s hurt; he was just being mouthy. He recognized me and then started taking jabs at our brothers. At Dax, talking about how he sucked and choked and stuff in the Super Bowl.”
Ziggy’s attitude immediately changed. “He deserved it, then.”
Ty scoffed out a laugh. “Yeah.”
“What’s going on, Ty?” Ziggy backed up and leaned against the door, locking it. “Ty.”
“I deserve this,” he said in a whisper.
Ziggy didn’t know what he was talking about, but it probably wasn’t the fight. “What?”
Ty swerved to face him. “If any of the Brady brothers deserve this, I do.”
“Shut up, man. You don’t even know what you’re talking about right now. You’re drunk.” Ziggy stepped close to him, touching his shoulder. “Let’s get you back and put you to bed. Things will look better in the morning.”
Jerking away from him with a grunt, Ty shook his head. “Why are you even here? I screwed everything up between you and Soph.” He pounded the center of his chest. “Me! I did!”