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“Have you talked to him?” I asked.
“No.”
Of course not. When a normal person would try to commiserate with a friend after something crappy happened to them, Aiden wouldn’t. I sighed and scratched at my temple. Damn it, I couldn’t believe it.
I wondered what Zac was going to do now, but it was still too soon to ask. Figuring he probably needed a little more time to stew on what happened, I made myself let it go. Maybe he’d gotten a little complacent, but that didn’t mean he had to get his dreams ripped away from him.
I wanted to talk to him, but I couldn’t help but think about how terribly some people handled disappointment in their lives. I’d grown up with three of them. It wouldn’t hurt to wait.
Toeing the floor with my sock-covered foot, I glanced at Aiden to find him spreading hummus all over two tortillas on the counter. “You doing okay?”
“Yes,” he answered quickly.
“That’s good.” I stared at his broad back and bit the inside of my cheek, that same uncertainty with talking to him filling my guts. Did he want me to leave him alone? Should I try to make more of a conversation with him?
“How’s the running going?” he asked suddenly.
Small talk. Heaven help us, he was trying to make small talk. “Good. I’m getting faster.” I puffed my cheeks up with air and gave the fridge a side look. “Why? Do you want to go with me again?”
His snicker was soft and it made me laugh.
Rome hadn’t been built in a day.
“No? Okay. I’m going back to my room. Let me know if you talk to Zac though, would you?”
Two days passed and I didn’t see Zac once. I wasn’t sure when he ate because I never saw him, and if it wouldn’t have been for his car in the driveway and the occasional flush of the toilet from the bathroom adjacent to his room, I wouldn’t have known he was home.
I knocked on his door once, but he didn’t respond.
But by the third full day of not seeing him, I figured he’d had enough time to stew in his pot of pity. Finishing the two projects I’d assigned myself for the day, I headed across the hall to his bedroom and gave the door two raps.
Nothing.
So I knocked again a little harder.
Still nothing.
“Zac Attack?”
And nothing.
“I know you’re in there. Open up.” I pressed my ear to the door and listened. “Zac, come on. Open the door or I’ll pick the lock.”
No response.
“I know how. Don’t tempt me.” I waited a beat and then kept going. “I used to break into my boyfriend’s locker in high school.” Not necessarily my most mature moment, but it had come in handy a couple of times.
He wasn’t biting.
“Zac, buddy. Come on. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want, but let’s go get some Mexican food.”
The mattress creaked loudly enough for me to hear and I smiled.
“If you’re a nice boy, I’ll take you to do some two-step at that honky-tonk place you like. What do you think?” I tried to bribe him.
He definitely made some stirring noises. It took what felt like a couple minutes before he finally spoke up like I had hoped he would. He’d never say no to going to a country-western club. Which I guess worked out in his favor because if he had the kind of status that Aiden had, he wouldn’t be able to do that sort of thing without getting hounded and now wasn’t the time for that. In that kind of club, he wouldn’t stand out.
Then finally, he answered, “You’ll drive?”
“I’ll drive.”
“Give me an hour to get ready.”
I couldn’t help but snort. “It doesn’t even take me that long to put on my makeup.”
There was a pause and what sounded like his bed springs squeaking confirmed he really was moving around. “I gotta straighten my hair too, sugar. Gimme a break.”
I smiled at the door. “That’s my girl.”
“I hate to be the one to say this to you, but you need to go on a diet.”
Zac managed to take a step forward before he swayed so much most of his weight ended up on me. Again.
He was no Aiden, but he definitely wasn’t anywhere near underweight either. Good grief. I started panting as we took another two steps closer to the house, seriously reconsidering the big guy’s suggestion that I start doing some weight training. I’d been walking, jogging, and running nearly five days a week for the last two months so I could begin training for a marathon, but that didn’t prepare me for carting around Big Texas. I was planning on starting to do some cross-training soon but hadn’t gotten around to it yet.
To make matters worse, like an idiot, I’d parked on the street like I usually did, but the difference was that I didn’t usually have a two-hundred-pound drunk man hanging off my arm for dear life.
Instead of drinking away his sorrows with margaritas like I’d originally suggested, Zac had gone straight for the Coronas. Many, many Coronas. So many I’d lost count even though my wallet hadn’t.
But I wasn’t going to say anything because the moment he’d arrived at the doorway to my room, dressed, I saw ‘devastation’ in the flesh.
Zac, who was normally a vision of health, vitality, and friendliness, looked like shit.
I didn’t comment, and I had to settle for smiling in his direction and giving him a slap on the butt as we headed down the stairs and toward my car for our evening. Sure enough, he hadn’t wanted to talk about getting let go from the team and instead he’d slapped on a somewhat bright smile after a few minutes and made every effort to have fun.
