Thump. He palmed the ball. Thump. Left. Thump. Right. Thump. Back left. He dropped his shoulder, slipped around Scott and beelined for the basket. With Scott in hot pursuit but several strides behind him, Zane finger-rolled the ball for a layup. It circled the rim. And popped back out. Scott grabbed the rebound, spun away from Zane and hoisted up a perfect jumper. Nothing but net.
Dammit.
“Yes!” Scott darted under the basket and snatched the ball. “Rematch? Best two out of three?”
Zane bent over, clutching the hem of his basketball shorts and planting the heels of his hands on his knees. “No.” The competitive part of him wanted the win. Needed it. Playing basketball was one of the only activities that had ever made him happy. He’d been at it since he could walk, precisely the reason he had an indoor court installed when his company, Patterson Marketing, took off and they built their own state-of-the-art office building. But he was too exhausted to compete. Or fight. Mentally, more than anything. “I’m done.”
“This Joshua Lowell thing is really getting to you, isn’t it?” Scott rested the ball on his hip, letting the weight of his forearm hold it in place.
“I can’t get away from it. The anniversary article was supposed to remind everyone what crooks the Lowells are, how they destroyed lives, how they can never be trusted. Instead, Josh’s engagement to Sophie Armstrong is all anyone is talking about. It’s everywhere. Facebook. Twitter. The Java Hut. My own freaking staff meeting.”
“It’s a big deal. He’s stepping away from BC. Nobody saw that coming.”
BC. The initials for Black Crescent were enough to make Zane cringe. The hedge fund, founded by Joshua Lowell’s father, Vernon, had been an ultraexclusive avenue of investment for the superrich. Zane’s family had once breathed the rarefied air of those on the limited client list, and for a time, the world was sunshine and roses. There was no shortage of money, and Zane’s life was golden—king of the school at Falling Brook Prep, captain of the basketball team, parents happily married. Then Vernon disappeared with millions, Zane’s family was left penniless and his parents’ marriage was destroyed.
Losing their family fortune meant that Zane had been moved from Prep to the public high school at the age of sixteen. It was another brutal adjustment, especially since the kids at Falling Brook High treated Zane like the rich kid who needed to be taken down a notch or two. They had no idea Zane was already at rock bottom. The only consolation was that he’d met Scott there, and they’d been best friends ever since.
Scott saved Zane, mostly from himself. Scott didn’t give a damn about the money; he only wanted to help, and he only wanted to be friends. They were solid from day one. When Zane’s mom and dad fought, which was often, Scott’s parents allowed Zane to seek refuge at their house. It was an oasis of calm—the one place happiness seemed possible. One of the best parts of those stays was spending time with Scott’s younger sister, Allison. She was the coolest, smartest and most creative person Zane had ever met. She was supercute, too, but Zane had always looked past that. She was Scott’s sister, and Zane would never, ever go there. Never.
“Did you see Josh’s press conference? Did you hear what he said? ‘She brought me out of the dark with her love’? ‘Because she loves me, I am worthy’? What a load of crap.” Zane didn’t enjoy being so bitter, but the fifteen years since Vernon Lowell disappeared had done nothing to assuage his pain over his entire life crumbling to dust. As far as Zane was concerned, all Lowells—Vernon; his wife, Eve; and his kids, Joshua, Jake and Oliver—were pure poison. He didn’t want to see any of them happy.
“You know what they say. Love makes everything better.”
Zane shot Scott a look. Romantic love was a farce. It rarely, if ever, lasted. Zane’s parents were a classic example. Yes, they’d been tested when Vernon Lowell stole every penny they had, but wasn’t love supposed to conquer all? Not from where Zane was sitting. “Said like a very married man.”
“Don’t get salty because I’m happy. Last time I checked, there wasn’t a law against it.”
Zane grumbled under his breath. He didn’t want to continue this part of their conversation.
The two men wandered over to the corner of the gym to grab the six-pack of microbrew Scott had stashed in the fully stocked beverage fridge. Zane was more of a tequila or mescal guy, but after a game, there was nothing better than knocking back a cold beer. They took it outside to the patio, where employees often enjoyed their lunch or an afternoon meeting if the weather was nice. A warm June night, the air was sweet and a bit heavy with humidity, but there was a pleasant breeze. Zane and Scott sat at a table, and Scott popped open the first two bottles. They clinked them to toast.
Zane took in a deep breath, washing down his resentment with that first sip of beer, trying to remind himself that he really did love it here. “I never should have gone to Joshua Lowell at the bar and told him I knew about the DNA report because I was the one who gave it to Sophie for the article about Black Crescent. I should have let him wonder who her sources were. I should have let him stew in his own juices. That’s what he deserves.” He took another long draw of his drink. That had been a difficult confrontation. Just seeing Joshua Lowell face-to-face was enough to make him physically ill. “I wanted him to know that he wasn’t as high and mighty as everyone thought. That I knew who he really was.”
Zane remembered the odd jolt that went
