Was he going to be bringing other girls there? To the room two doors down from the one I was going to be staying in?
If I could have started sweating on command, there would have been a drop sliding down my spine.
Why hadn’t I thought of that before? How hadn’t I thought of that before?
I kept my gaze forward as I said, “Hey, if you or CJ want me to leave at any point, you know, because you’re having company or something”—holy shit did my stomach hurt—“all you have to do is tell me. Okay?”
He stopped suddenly, and it took me about two steps into the space between the dining room table and the office to realize it.
“What?” I asked him.
I could see his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek as his gaze settled on me. His chest rose and fell as he looked down, and I was pretty sure I caught a nerve pulsing along his jaw. But after a second, he nodded once and all he said was “All right” before he started walking again.
Just all right.
Not “No, that isn’t going to happen.” Not “Don’t worry about it.” Just, nothing.
And I had to hold my breath and remind myself that this wasn’t a mistake. I wouldn’t let it be.
It’d be fine.
And I was a goddamn liar.
I was a goddamn liar because I suddenly felt nauseous and sick and jealous. So jealous that I scratched the back of my neck even though it didn’t itch. I had built this fantasy in my head that, when he wasn’t hanging out with me, he was busy with the White Oaks or doing something at home. Not… out partying like he used to.
I knew better.
But I owed it to him to be a good friend after everything he’d done for me. I could do it for him. I would do it for him.
We made it to the living room and found The Sports Network on. There was no one watching the television, but that didn’t change what the evening correspondents happened to be discussing. I guess CJ had turned it on.
Because the rerun from the morning had the headline in bold letters.
DO THE WHITE OAKS HAVE A CHANCE?
It was the Michael B anchor who was in the middle of talking, and of course he’d be talking about Zac. His voice loud and electric. “Sure he’s been showings signs of brilliance, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to last! I need to see more! Zac Travis is past the prime of his career, and I can’t help but not be convinced this isn’t some kind of fluke. He doesn’t have the consistent record to stoke any kind of belief.”
I felt Zac stop directly behind me, and I didn’t need to turn around to know he was watching and listening.
So I did the only thing I could. I dove for the damn remote sitting on the couch and changed the channel.
But I wasn’t fast enough. Because when I did finally turn, I saw it. The hidden hurt and insecurity in his eyes. And I knew him too well to not recognize it.
I hated it. Absolutely hated it. And knew I needed to change it.
So I did what I did best when I felt awkward: I smiled. And I told him, “Want to go get a chalupa? I got a new playlist, and I’ve been waiting for a reason to remind you that all your exes don’t live in Texas, no matter what the song says.”
It took a second, but just a second.
But his expression slid off.
And the next thing I knew, those long, strong arms were wrapped around me, and he was pulling me into his warm, solid body. Those dry, firm lips pressed against my forehead, my temple, and my cheek as he said quietly, holding me there, “I don’t know what I’d do without you, kiddo.”
The truth was, I didn’t know what I’d do without him either.
Chapter Nineteen
There weren’t a whole lot of things more awkward than waking up in a place that wasn’t yours.
I’d mentally prepared myself for it the night before as I’d settled into a spare bedroom at Trevor’s house, one door down from CJ and two from Zac. The house was beautiful, and everything was clean—thanks to the service that came by twice a week—and the room I was staying in even had its own bathroom. When I’d been living with Connie, and even with my roommate, I’d had to share a bathroom.
Even though CJ and Zac had both assured me that Trevor was “okay” with me staying at his house for a little while, it was still weird.
It wasn’t the first time I’d stayed with people out of pity. That was how I’d ended up at my aunt and uncle’s house after Mamá Lupe had passed away and my parents had decided that they had to go back to the Dominican Republic as soon as possible, so that I could finish my senior year in high school. No one had wanted me to live by myself, and no one could pay her mortgage so they’d put the house up for sale. If my relationship with Connie had been any different, I would have thought it had been a pity invite when they’d told me to come up, but I knew her and Richard, her husband, too well to confuse what they’d offered.
Anyway.
The house was empty when I headed downstairs. I made sure to clean up after myself following breakfast and kept busy showering and then sitting at the kitchen island, working on my computer for a few hours. It wasn’t until after I’d made lunch and was sitting there eating it that my phone rang.
I glanced down at the screen and cursed. “Hello?” I answered, knowing I was going to regret this conversation.
“Blanca, it’s Gunner.”
No shit. He was calling me from work, which was listed on my phone
