26. Zak

Iwander around the massive ballroom smiling politely at the men and women around me but not making eye contact for too long. I really don't want to look like I have any desire to talk to any of them.

It's an important event, and these people are doing great things for child runaways in the area, so I was happy to write a big check to the organization Mom works with. But I've barely gotten a minute to myself since I got here. Seems like everyone wants to share their two cents about the game, the Crusaders' season, and my impromptu press assault with Matt and Brett Travers.

Hiding in a corner seems like a good option while I finish my drink.

When Mom asked me to come here in her place, I was still riding the high of the game, so I agreed. But making the rounds at this event isn't top on my list of things to do tonight, not when my head's still twisted over that visit from Matt after the game.

We didn't have sex. He didn't unload the kind of news that inspires mind-numbing, body-spasming kinds of orgasms, so we just hung out, talked, ate, and watched Netflix.

Things we haven't done in a long time. Things that felt right and comfortable with no expectation.

I fought the urge to kiss him more times than I can count while we were sprawled on my couch, but he made it clear that his stakes are too high to get in any deeper with me. Gritting my teeth, I clench my hand around the glass. He's not the guy for me. I need to accept it and move on.

Unfortunately, my damn heart still hasn't acknowledged the message.

Stopping at a high-top table in a darkened corner, I raise my highball glass to my lips and take a small sip of bourbon. A quick glance at my watch confirms I've been here for exactly an hour. I'll just finish my one drink and duck out before anyone else?—

"Zak, right?"

A female voice jars me from my plans.

I turn to see Anna Taylor standing near my table. My gut clenches. The woman is a goddess with her porn star curves, long, blonde hair, and blue eyes so deep they almost look purple.

She can have any man on the planet.

A sharp sting of jealousy sears my insides.

And she gets to fuck Matt.

Logic tells me it's ridiculous to be envious. He's gay, and they don't have a relationship beyond the fictional one he's created for the world to see.

But my emotions quickly snuff out the rational thought.

A fake relationship means he doesn't love her, but it also doesn't mean he wants me.

Her shiny pink lips lift into a bright smile. But it's not the typical million-dollar movie star smile I'm used to seeing on the faces of Hollywood elite. It's warm, genuine, and welcoming.

It instantly puts me at ease, and I can't help but return the smile.

Jesus, in a few seconds it's clear to see how she's quickly become America's sweetheart. I know from that first night at Lucas and Jase's fundraiser that she's got a good heart. I can see now that it radiates from inside.

Last time I was too preoccupied with my own rage to notice.

"Anna," I say. "It's great to see you. I'm a little surprised. I didn't realize this was a red carpet event."

She sets her bag and drink down on the table and folds her hands in front of her. "You should talk. After yesterday's game, people are definitely talking more about you than me."

"Well, it wasn't me who played it. Or won it, for that matter. I'm only the bankroll."

Anna chuckles and sips her drink. "Well, someone needs to pay the bills so we can have more games like that."

"It was a great one." I pause. "Matt was incredible."

She nods, her gaze curious. "He was. But he didn't want to celebrate afterward. I couldn't get a hold of him at all last night. I had to text him the details for the event tonight."

My heart stills.

Wait…he's here?

He didn't mention anything about this event. Neither did I, come to think of it.

There were more pressing things on my mind… ones that were cuddled next to me on my couch.

I swallow hard under her unwavering stare. She didn't ask if I knew where he was, but something tells me it's because she already does. And he clearly didn't mention anything about Rusty to her, either.

"I'm sure he was in a lot of pain. He did take a big hit at the end when he landed in the end zone. He's not used to that kind of impact, you know?"

The words rush from my lips like they're all racing to convince her that I had no knowledge of his whereabouts.

Heat rises in my chest, and I have to force my eyes to focus on her, not search the room for Matt.

"I guess." She drops her eyes to her glass but doesn't press.

"Did you, ah, ask him?"

She gives a half shrug. "It's not like we're boyfriend-girlfriend or anything. He doesn't owe me any explanations. He's just been… I guess, weirdly distant over the past few weeks." She turns her blue eyes up at me. "Ever since you showed up in the picture."

That hits me like a hammer to the gut.

But her tone isn't accusatory. It's more…hurt. Disappointed, even.

They may not be dating but it sure sounds like she wishes they were.

I need to change the subject. Fast. Anything to deflect her attention.

"I'm sure he's got a reason. I remember hearing in college that he's a pretty heavy sleeper. Maybe he went home, passed out, and missed your calls."

"A bomb could go off next to his head, and he'd never wake up." A small smile lifts her lips.

I force a laugh. "So, how'd you get involved with this organization?"

She smooths back her hair. "Well, I didn't have the best home life growing up. Things were difficult. My parents were drug addicts, and I had younger sisters. Let's just say that it wasn't a safe environment, and I needed to get my sisters away from the danger that eventually killed my mother."

"I'm so sorry to hear that. I had no idea you went through that."

"Well, it's not the kind of thing I drop in interviews with Fashion Beat. But yeah, that's my backstory. And if it wasn't for organizations like this that helped kids like us get back on their feet after traumas like we experienced…" Her voice trails off for a second, a faraway look in her eye.

A few seconds pass and she snaps back to the conversation. "I don't know where we might've ended up. Or how we'd have survived. So, I do everything I can to help raise awareness and donate money, time, resources…whatever they need."

"That's really amazing of you."

It's a little shocking, actually. You look at someone like Anna—gorgeous, talented, charming, basically perfect in every way—and you'd never guess she lived a rough day in her life. You only see the glossy exterior, never the darkness inside.

Shit. I'm really starting to like this girl. I tried to hate her, but dammit, she's fantastic. And I feel like a complete dickhead because of what Matt and I did behind her back. I can't bear to cause anyone the kind of pain I felt when I lost him.

She's obviously fallen for him, and even though we didn't sleep together yesterday, he was still with me, not her. He's lying to her, leading her on.

It's not right.

He needs to tell her the truth. And he needs to do it soon, before she gets in any deeper.

Anna just looks at me. "They don't have anyone else to turn to. The kids can't always rely on themselves, no matter how much they think they need to be strong on their own. It was a rough realization for me. The hardest time in my life."

"But look at how fantastic things turned out for you. You're a real inspiration."

"I got lucky." Her eyes darken. "Most kids don't."

"I'd love to help however I can." I smile.

Her honesty and heartfelt words make me want to write over my entire life savings to these kids. Anna has so many more layers than anyone knows, so much depth and humanity. Every word is like a knife to my heart when I think about how we're both hurting her.

She puts a hand on my arm. "Thank you. That's a very kind offer."

"And not publicly, either." I shake my head emphatically. "I don't want it to be about the team and the press. It's about the kids."

"Exactly." Her lips lift, but before she can say anything else, a shorter brunette with glasses runs up to her and pulls her aside.

Anna winks at me. "Speech time. It was great talking to you, Zak. Good luck with everything."

With a weight in my gut, I force a smile. "You, too."

She disappears into the crowd, and I let out a shuddering sigh. Jesus, I feel like a real tool right now. That incredible woman is going to stand up there in a few minutes and tell this crowd her story, how she was able to overcome so much trauma and turn it around so that she could own her life.

Meanwhile, it's taken me eight years to figure out how to make peace with my own demons, and I'm still struggling to figure out how to bury them.

I need to get out of here. I need to get my head screwed on straighter and tighter. And I need to think more about helping others instead of wallowing in my own past.

My head swims with ideas about how I can contribute to this organization. My mom has been a chairperson for years, and I never thought to even ask about the work she does.

Anna's words come floating back.

The kids can't always rely on themselves.

We all need someone sometimes because we can't always figure things out for ourselves.

I'm proof positive of that. I buried all my toxic thoughts and feelings for years and used them as ammunition when lashing out at people I viewed as threats instead of processing them and resolving them.

I fumble around in my pocket for my valet ticket and stop short in the darkened hallway outside the ballroom. Something hard slams into my side and a glass flies through the air before hitting the floor with a loud crash.

Twisting suddenly, my heart sinks into my stomach.

Matt stands behind me, a half-smirk on his gorgeous face. "Sorry about that. But I guess it was one way to get your attention, huh?"

Dammit. One smile, one look, and I'm fucking putty again? What about my new resolve to move forward with my life? To bury the past for good?

"I didn't know you'd be here tonight," I blurt suddenly because every other thought is blurred by his mesmerizing smile.

"Yeah, Anna asked me a while back." His appraising gaze flickers over me, a delicious chill licking the back of my neck.

"I was just talking to her." I shove my hands into my pockets, balling them into fists as if that's going to ward off the spell Matt's unknowingly cast over me. "She's pretty awesome. Really down to earth and honest."

He nods, his eyes never leaving my face.

I swallow hard. "You're not being fair to her."

Talk about a bucket of cold water drowning out the flames raging between us.

Matt recoils and takes a step backward. Then, he narrows his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I flick my eyes left and right and then nod toward an empty spot near the coat room, far enough away from the people moving in and out of the ballroom. Nobody bothers to walk in our direction because it's hot as hell outside and nobody is checking coats.

When I turn to look at Matt, his eyes blaze.

"What was that supposed to mean?" he says again through clenched teeth.

"It means you're hurting her. She's obviously in love with you, and she knows you're not in the same place. So just be honest and tell her the truth."

"The truth?" He looks like I just bitch slapped him.

I roll my eyes. "Some version of the truth. At least tell her you're not on the same page. Let her go so she can find someone who deserves her because you definitely don't."

That last bit came out sounding a little harsher than I meant, but then again… maybe it's because of the pent-up angst that always seems to funnel inside of me like a tornado every time he's near.

And because I know all too well the devastation he can leave in his wake.

Shock must have a hold on his tongue, so I keep going while I have the chance.

"She's a good person. Forget your image and what the world's perception of you might be. After our last game, you don't need Hollywood. You're great on your own. You need to be confident in that. Don't drag someone else into your insecurities, not someone like her who will wind up hurt."

I put my hand on his arm. "Do the right thing, Matt. Do it for both of you."

His turbulent gaze fixes on me. "Don't get involved in my fucking business."

"It's my business, too. We both did things behind her back. It was wrong."

"Don't lecture me. You have no right to judge," he growls, stepping closer, his breath hot against my neck.

"Her feelings are at stake, and you don't seem to give a damn." About either of us, I think. But I reserve those words. I don't want to hear them myself, and once they're out, I can't swallow them down. My back stiffens. "And to be honest, right now, I like her a hell of a lot better than you."

I take a step to push past him, but before I can make my escape, he opens the door behind us and shoves me backward, so I stumble inside the dim, musty-smelling room.

"Do you really mean that?" Matt asks, grabbing me by the lapels of my jacket. He fists them tight and pulls me close.

"Yes," I rasp, my pulse hammering so hard in my throat I almost choke on it. I force myself to ignore his spicy cologned scent and the way his smoldering gaze makes the blood bubble in my veins. "I had a hard time separating what I wanted from what I needed. And what I want isn't good for me. It wasn't good for me eight years ago, and it's even worse now."

My fingers itch to trace the outline of Matt's tense jaw, to drag through his thick hair and tug it while I claim his mouth and neck.

He's what I want.

But he's not what I need.

"Want and need are two different things. I need to know that I'm number one for my partner, and that he's not afraid to let the world know it. I need to find happiness with someone who wants a future with me, the real me, and that he'll love me and accept me for who and what I am. I need to be the center of someone's world because I deserve that. And…" I pause for a second, my heart clenching tight. "I need to break free from the disappointment, anger, and guilt. I need to look forward, not backward."

I swallow hard, but the lump in my throat is hard as a rock and just as big. "So, you have to let me go, too."