Block Shot (Hoops #2)(109)

“Zo,” I mumble into the kiss, gently pushing his frail chest. “No. We can’t.”

He flops back on his pillow, wearing a frown, his jaw sharp with displeasure.

“Have you kept your end of our bargain?” he demands.

“What?” I stand by the bed, dumbfounded that he would even ask me that. “What do you mean?”

“I mean are you fucking your other boyfriend?”

This happens from time to time, a side effect of the drugs. Wild mood swings. I don’t know if it’s the drugs or if he’s just been holding that question back, waiting for the perfect chance to throw the infidelity in my face.

“Nothing to say, Bannini?” he asks, his voice stronger than I’ve heard it in weeks, reinforced with sarcasm.

“Yes, I have something to say. I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t have sex. I don’t have an office. I don’t have a life right now, Zo.”

I swing my arm around his bedroom in an angry arc.

“I have this. I have you, my best friend who hates me.”

He grabs my hand, refusing to let go when I tug.

“I could never hate you,” he says, his tone suddenly quiet and already repentant. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. I shouldn’t have said that. You’ve given up everything for me. I know this.”

I let loose a frustrated breath. We may both be a little stir crazy. Other than his appointments and treatments, we don’t go out much. With Zo’s immunity so compromised, there aren’t many allowed in. His diarrhea has been crippling, and the only way he can leave the house is wearing a diaper, an indignity he can suffer only so many times. He’s sick as fuck. I’m exhausted, and we’re both stumbling through the flames of a Hell we can’t see the end of.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now, Zo.” I clamp my teeth together and stave off the tears I can’t afford and that won’t stop once they start. “You’re my best friend. Nothing will change that.”

He grins, even though his eyes are already drooping from the meds that make his nausea and pain bearable.

“It’s probably good you stopped me,” he slurs. “I would have fallen asleep at second base.”

Our fight passes as quickly as it came. We’ve never been able to remain angry with one another for any amount of time. At least that hasn’t changed.

I tiptoe out of the bedroom and close the door behind me. I can get some work done now. Maali is supposed to call in the next hour or so to discuss a few things I’ve left in her more-than-capable hands. When the phone rings, I assume it’s her and don’t even check the screen.

“Hello.” There’s silence on the other end for a beat or two. I’m ready to pull the phone away and check the caller when he speaks.

“Hey, Ban.”

My poor unsuspecting heart is unprepared for his voice. How it releases a fall of feathers in my belly and takes my breath hostage.

“Jared?” My voice sounds high and thin.

“Yeah.” He hesitates before going on. “Is it okay that I called?”

God, yes.

“Sure.” I bite my lip and search for my cool, my collected, but it’s nowhere to be found. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

“I’m in town.”

“Here?” I point to the floor. “In Palo Alto?”

“Yeah. I’d like to see you. Maybe we could meet?”

My hopes, my excitement sink. Fuck my life.

“I can’t leave the house right now,” I say quietly. “Zo had a rough couple of days, and the nurse isn’t coming ’til tomorrow.”

“Of course,” he says too quickly, like he expected me to shut him down. “I get it. Maybe next time.”

“Oh.” My mind clamors for something to keep him on the phone a few minutes longer. “So you . . . you have business here? An appointment or something?”

It’s quiet for too long, and for a second I think I’ve lost him.

“Jared?” I ask again. “You have business here?”

“Just you. I came to see you.”

There’s something so raw in his voice, and it’s like he ripped a page from my heart and is reading it. That the same loneliness I ache with so does he. That maybe he dreams about me, too, and wakes up wishing for our island villa. For the sea breeze. Every night my skin relives his touch and my lips reminisce about his kisses.

“Zo’s sleeping,” I say softly, hopefully. “You could come over for a few minutes if you like?”

“I have some sponsor contracts for the golf tournament I could say I was dropping off since I was in town,” he says. “But are you sure?”

I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t have sex. I don’t have an office. I don’t have a life right now.

The hollow sound of my own words throb in my ears. I’m closer than I’ve ever been to breaking. I’m cracking inside, and I’m so afraid of what will come out. Of what I can’t hold. I need something.

I need him.

“Yeah,” I answer. “Yeah. I’m sure.”





36





Jared





She must have been watching for me because the door to the townhouse swings open before I can ring the bell.