* * *
“Mr. Travis, I’m ready for you, if you’ll follow me,” the nice-looking woman in khaki pants and a tucked-in blouse called out an hour later.
Zac and I had taken a seat in the tiny waiting area of the small facility where his trainer had scheduled his appointment. He’d admitted to me on the way over that he knew people who had gotten this kind of treatment before, but it was his first time. I’d driven his car over one-handed and had tried my best not to look surprised when he’d made the suggestion.
Two light blue eyeballs glanced at me.
And I had to pinch my lips together to keep from smiling at what I was pretty sure was him asking me to follow.
I was touched.
And I wasn’t going to ruin it.
“Can I come too?” I asked the nurse practitioner, knowing I probably looked and sounded like a clingy girlfriend, but I didn’t give a shit. I was only asking to follow because I had the feeling he wanted me to go.
She glanced at Zac, smiled a little, and nodded.
I was pretty positive that Zac was breathing a lot harder than normal as he led the way after the woman, and I had to bite my lip, then bite my tongue to keep from cracking up at the fact he was so nervous and trying desperately to hide it.
I set my hand on his waist, feeling how trim it was, and gave him a squeeze of support.
He set one hand on top of mine and kept it there as I followed after him, inches away as we headed into the tiny exam room. We introduced ourselves as Zac took a seat on the exam table, and I could see the big gulps of breath he was trying not to take but failing and taking them anyway.
He was already pale, or at least paler than he’d been when he’d gotten to the house.
And I knew the woman could tell too because her gaze moved from his slightly trembling hands to his face and back.
I met her eyes, and we smiled at each other.
She knew. “Okay, Zac, this won’t take me very long. I’ll draw the blood from your right arm, and then we’ll work on your knee. If you’re fine with it, I’ve got this handy spray that will help you not feel a thing, is that okay?”
His “Yes, ma’am” nearly killed me.
Well, I was here for a reason, even if he was in denial.
“Hey, Zac?” I asked before taking a seat right beside the table and then scooting it closer to him.
Those blue eyes moved to me, and his Adam’s apple bobbed savagely. “Yeah, Bibi?” he asked in a weak voice.
I slipped my hand between his and his thigh, sliding my fingers through his, linking them together. They were ice cold. He’d changed into some shorts, and I could feel his leg hair under my fingers. “I called WatchTube again. They won’t tell me what’s going on yet. Can you believe that?”
“They won’t tell you what’s goin’ on?” he asked, gaze moving in the direction of the woman who was busy pulling needles and who the hell else knew what out.
“Nope,” I told him with a sigh that sounded shaky to me. “All they’re saying is that they’re ‘investigating it.’ Motherfuckers. And to ‘give them time.’” His gaze was still on the woman who had turned to face him as she fiddled with the packaging for a needle. “Can you believe that?” I asked, trying to get him to look at me. “I cried again.”
That had him turning to me, a frown on his drawn face. “Don’t cry. We’ll get it back. I promised you. I’ll get Trevor to see if he can find someone’s number and give ’em a call to get it sorted.”
Good, he was still looking at me. “He doesn’t need to do that, but if you want him to….” I smiled. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Zac’s right arm get pulled out, and I knew she was about to withdraw his blood, so I squeezed his opposite hand. “I’m sure I’ll get it back, but they took down all my videos, and what if they can’t restore them?”
“Then we’ll get ’em to restore ’em,” he said, moving his fingers around mine in a massaging gesture. “You almost ready for the photographer? When is she comin’?”
“Getting there. And next week.” I rattled off the dates she would be over at Trevor’s house. “You have a home game, and I’ll try to get her out of the house by the time you’re there so you can relax.”
His mouth went flat. “Why you gotta rush her out? I wanna see everything too. Anything you need, all you gotta do is ask.” His fingers massaged mine a little more. “I’m so damn proud of you, Bibi.”
“I’m so proud of you too, old man.”
He was looking at me as his phone rang. Letting go of my hand, he pulled it out of the front pocket of his jeans, made a face, and set it on top of his thigh before leaning over just enough to take my hand again. He hadn’t looked at the woman, who had since withdrawn his blood and put it into some spinning, centrifugal machine thing that was busy going, and I knew I had to keep his attention until after he got the rest of his treatment finished. But my mind wandered for a second.
Had it been a girl calling?
Some pretty redhead in Houston now?
Or maybe a blonde in Dallas?
A brunette in Oklahoma?
“What’s that face for?” he asked quietly.
I met his gaze and shook my head, ignoring that little—okay, not so little—spike of jealousy in my stomach. And my chest. And head.
“Whatcha thinkin’?”
I shook my head again, knowing
