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“Yeah, baby. We’re back,” he says softly, turning to plant a kiss into my palm.
“What happen? Are you okay?” I ask, my awareness coming back to me a little more.
Zane walks to us with an icepack in his hand. “Everything is fine, Zoey. We can talk about it more later.”
He gestures to Jax for his hand, and Jax, begrudgingly, relents. He begins to wrap it which gets my attention. I practically jump to upright position. My eyes dart back and forth between his hand and his face.
I bring his other hand up to examine. Broken skin and bruises cover his knuckles. Tears form in my eyes. “Jax, what did you do?”
“I’ll be fine. That bastard will be fine too,” he says with grimace as Zane continues to wrap his hand.
“But you can’t play if your hand is hurt.”
He gives me a look of amazement – and frustration.
I know to some, my concern and worry over their careers may seem selfish or materialistic. They’d probably think I’m worried about the money or the fame that comes with being pro-football players. But that’s not it at all.
Football has been their life. Their dream. It has been an important and integral part of their lives. It’s motivated them to work hard and push themselves to their goals. It has been their love since they were kids.
He thinks I don’t know that he would give it all up for me. Zane too. I’ve always known that he would. That he would risk everything for me.
I do know. I know that I am more important to him than throwing a ball or a paycheck. I know he would throw it all away – sacrifice everything for me.
But I don’t want him to.
I lean and kiss each of his bruised knuckles. I watch as goosebumps erupt over his skin sending a thrill through me. I love knowing I affect him as much as he affects me.
“Zoey, you are everything. I won’t lose anything, I swear. But if I did, I would be okay as long as you’re still here.”
“Other hand,” Zane grunts, clearly uncomfortable with our display of affection. It makes me laugh. Most days my brother can be the most inappropriate ass on the planet, even in regards to me. But on occasion, it becomes too much for him.
“What happen?” I ask again.
“Zoey,” Jax says with a warning in his voice.
“I want to know,” I demand. “You both have bruised knuckles. There’s more anger rolling off both of you than before you left. Something happened, and I want to know what,”
I level them both with a hard stare. They wince knowing I’m not backing down. “Tell me now, or so help me I will go figure it out myself,” I demand, feeling much braver than I have in days. In weeks, I haven’t left the apartment, but here I am ready to head out and find that bastard. To see for myself what happen.
“Like hell you will,” Jax bristles while Zane yells, “Over my dead body.”
“Then tell me what happen,” I yell back. “Tell me or I will go over there.”
“Dammit, Zoey,” Zane yells. “Nothing fucking happened. We found him, but Rory’s guys jumped us before we could do anything.”
“So, you got bruised, beat up hands because nothing happened,” I say sarcastically.
“No, we have bruised, beat up hands because we beat the shit out of them for stopping us,” Jax says with aggravation in his voice.
I let out a very unattractive snort. “Poor guys. Rory is going to kill them.” I pause for a minute as a horrible thought crosses my mind. “Rory won’t kill them, will he?”
Jax laughs. Like a full belly laugh. The tension and hostility have evaporated. He leans over to kiss my cheek before getting up. “No, baby. He won’t kill them. Rory knows there aren’t many people who can handle me and Zane. Including his guys. He’s the one who taught us, after all.”
“Really,” Zane smirks. “He’d probably kill us if we hadn’t handled them.”
“So, what are you going to tell your coaches?” I ask.
They give each other knowing looks. “We’ve got it handled, Zo. Don’t worry about it.”
