Chapter 52

52

ZACH

I pulled into my garage a little after seven, feeling mentally exhausted but physically restless. After a shitty night of sleep, I'd spent most of my day in meetings—with the board of the soccer club about funding, the project manager from Rogers Construction about the new facility, and the coaches planning the camp next week. Meetings, meetings, meetings.

I was used to spending my time in training or in practice, not sitting in overly air-conditioned rooms listening to people drone on and on about things I supposed were important enough. But I had a low-grade headache building at the base of my skull, nonetheless. Add to it a nearly one-hour commute each way into the city, and I was itching for some exercise.

I walked into my bedroom, changing out of my slacks and dress shirt and into jogging shorts and a dry-fit tank. I laced up my shoes, grabbed my phone and AirPods, and headed into the humid night air. It was a little warmer than I typically liked for a jog, but I'd skipped my morning run in favor of commuting to the city, so this would have to do.

I lightly jogged down the street toward the stairs that would take me to the lakeside path. The same one Jason and I had traveled so many times the summer before I left for college and where we'd crossed paths a couple of weeks back and Jason shouted at me before turning away.

Still, I thought about how I bared my soul to him in the rain on the anniversary of my mom's passing. How I shared my fears about leaving for college and not knowing what I wanted to do with my life. There'd also been mundane conversations about town gossip, weekend plans, and all the other little things one might discuss with a friend. A friend who'd eventually turned into something more.

God, I missed him. It felt like I'd done nothing but miss him for nearly a decade. No matter how far I'd tried to leave him in the past, to outrun our history, to escape my own guilt for the way I'd cut him off, the memory of him was never far behind.

It was like he was a part of me. As was this place. How many times had I stood at the beach in LA and longed to be on the bank of the lake instead? Or had something as simple as ice cream and wished for a cone from Sherry's Soft-Serv? How many times had I seen a guy in a bar with a short crop of dark hair, who was tall and broad, only to have him turn around and be someone else? I'd once thought my feelings for Jason had roots so deep it'd take a hurricane to rip them out. Later, I'd convinced myself that idea had been the fantasy of a nineteen-year-old, longing for someone to simply see him. Now that I was back, though, I thought maybe I'd had the right of it all those years ago.

Those roots had run deep.

The question was, had Jason's? Had his feelings run deep enough to withstand the storm of my abandonment? The animosity he'd shown me since I'd returned indicated he still had some sort of feelings. And while yesterday had felt like a truce of sorts, that was still a far cry from forgiveness.

Even so, I couldn't blame him for being angry. And I didn't have a better explanation for why I'd cut him off. I'd been overwhelmed when I left. Between catching up on classes, worrying over Drea, and wrestling with the intensity of my feelings toward Jason, I'd felt almost paralyzed. I'd battled nightmares and panic attacks and had been unable to handle more than the next item on my to-do list, which was primarily occupied by coursework and training.

And it wasn't only Jason I'd left hanging. Aunt Amy had taken to sending me daily texts with updates regarding Drea's condition, but they'd gone unanswered, and for nearly a month after I left, I didn't speak with Drea or my father, not even by text. I just…couldn't. It was like there was a bubble around Astaire that I couldn't penetrate. But the bubble was a creation of my own mind.

Messages were left on read. I'd pull my phone out of my pocket and stare at it, completely unable to execute the simple task of swiping it open and pressing the button to call. I loathed myself for it. The guilt was so severe some days that I couldn't eat. But I couldn't push past it either.

Oddly enough, it was a phone call from Drea that finally pushed through. She caught me early one morning while I was still asleep and too groggy to process what was happening. I'd swiped open the call out of habit before I'd even realized I'd done so, and upon giving a bleary "Hello," she'd laid into me, her words angry and laced with tears. I'd sobbed like a baby.

Our relationship had been rocky for quite a while after that. I'd stayed in LA over spring break that year, citing my grades as the reason, but really, I just hadn't been able to bear the thought of going home. Of facing my family, or even worse, seeing Jason. With each passing day that I didn't reach out to him, the barrier to doing so became taller and more impossible to climb. How could I apologize? How could I explain when I didn't even understand it myself? Even now, I wasn't sure I had the words to articulate what had happened. I snorted. That had been evident the last couple of times I'd tried to talk to him about it.

Bringing my thoughts back to the present, I came around a bend in the path, ducking under some trees that needed to be trimmed, and spotted someone sitting a short distance away. There was a small dog sitting near them, and they looked to be grabbing their ankle. With the sun low in the sky, it was difficult to see them clearly, but I slowed to a walk, wanting to see if there was something I could do to help.

My breath stuttered when I realized it was Mrs. Whitt, Jason's mom. What must she think of me after what I'd done to her son? I shook my head. It didn't matter. She was obviously injured—I could see the pinch of pain on her face—and needed assistance.

"Mrs. Whitt? Are you okay?" I asked, though I could tell she wasn't.

She looked up, her eyes widening as she recognized me. "Zach? I wondered when I'd run into you."

"Yes, ma'am." I crouched and gave the pup next to her a scratch. It was a small thing with wiry black fur and a bit of a crossbite. I suspected it was a mutt of some sort.

"I heard you were back in town. How are you?" Her voice was warm, without a hint of malice. Somehow, that only made my guilt worse.

"I'm doing well, thank you. But, um…" I gestured toward her ankle. "What about you?"

"Oh," she said, returning her attention to her foot. I could see it was already starting to swell. "I rolled my ankle trying to detangle myself from Toto's leash."

"Do you mind if I take a look?"

At her nod, I pushed gently at the flesh, probing the tissue to assess where it was most tender and gently moving it around to judge the range of motion. I'd seen my fair share of sprained ankles on the soccer field over the years, and while I wasn't a doctor, I did know what to look for. Based on her reaction to my prodding and the rate of swelling, I'd judge it to be a moderate sprain, but she'd definitely want to have a doctor look at it to be sure. "I'm guessing it's just a sprain, but you'll probably want to go in to have it looked at."

I looked around, assessing where we were and how close we might be to the parking lot. "Is there someone I can call? I can help you get to the parking lot, but it's probably best you don't try to drive since it's your right foot."

"I texted Jason just before you happened upon me. He's already on his way."

My heart beat a little quicker at the prospect of seeing him again so soon. Our paths were bound to cross in a town this size, but two days in a row seemed serendipitous.

I shifted out of my crouch to sit by her while we waited. Toto immediately climbed into my lap and made himself comfortable. "Alrighty then. Make yourself at home," I joked, scratching the fur between his ears.

Mrs. Whitt chuckled beside me. "He's not the prettiest looking thing, but he more than makes up for it with the love he's willing to give."

"He seems very sweet. How long have you had him?"

"Let's see…he was actually a rescue. Jason saved him from an abandoned barn that caught fire. No one claimed him, so we took him in. It was just after Mandy finished college, so three years ago, I guess."

I continued petting him, not meeting her eyes. There were so many questions I wanted to ask, things I wanted to know about Jason, about the life he'd lived since I'd said goodbye. But I didn't have that right. And I certainly didn't want to put his mom in that position, so I didn't say anything.

"We followed your career, you know. A lot of folks from Astaire did. It was exciting to see one of our own make it to that level. Soccer got a lot more popular around here."

"I'm surprised you guys consider me one of your own. I was only here for a year. And with the way I left…" I trailed off, not sure what Jason had told her. Surely, she'd figured something was amiss when I basically disappeared from her son's life.

"Whatever happened between you and my son is just that…between you and him." I chanced a look at her but saw nothing but kindness. "And even if you were only here for a year, your family was here longer. Drea is practically family."

"Am I interrupting?" I looked up to see Jason approaching with the corner of his mouth tipped up in a partial smile. He wore athletic shorts and a dry-fit tank similar to mine, with a black ball cap worn backward. He was sweaty, like maybe he'd been working out or doing yard work when he'd been called away, and all that tan, sweat-slicked skin had my mouth going dry and my tongue tying itself in knots. Not the most appropriate reaction when his mom was sitting right next to me.

It was that smile, though, that really did things to me. It was the first time I'd seen it since I'd been back, and it was like watching the sun break through the clouds after a storm. I knew that smile was for his mom's benefit, but I basked in its warmth nonetheless.

"I can't believe my clumsy self. Thanks for coming out here. Your father's on a fishing trip with Uncle Frank."

"It's not a problem. I just got done mowing the lawn." He crouched, examining her ankle much the way I had done. "Looks like a sprain, but you should probably have Dr. Miller look at it. Do you think you can stand?"

"If you boys help me."

Jason looked at me and I nodded, standing and holding out a hand to help her. She reached for it, and between the three of us, we got her upright.

"You ready?" he asked her.

"Ready for what?"

Without warning, he effortlessly scooped her up in his arms. She let out a screech of surprise but laughed as he jostled her a little to get a more secure hold. "Goodness. Being carried by my son was not on the motherhood Bingo card."

"Yeah? Do they hand those out at the hospital, or…?"

She swatted at him. "Such a smartass."

I scooped up Toto, forgoing the leash entirely, and gestured for Jason to lead the way. We weren't too far from the parking lot, so it only took us a few minutes to get to Jason's truck. He got her settled in the front seat with Toto and shut the door, turning toward me.

"Thank you for staying with her until I got here."

"It wasn't a problem. Do you want me to follow behind in her car? Then you can bring me home after and she won't have to worry about picking up her car later."

I watched as he weighed his options. "Yeah, I guess that would be helpful," he said, almost reluctantly. I tried not to bristle at the response. No matter how much I thought I deserved his anger, it still stung when faced with it. "Let me just grab her keys."