Block Shot (Hoops #2)(73)

I know exactly how I feel about what I’ve done to Zo. I know how I feel about the violent betrayal of my own code of values and principles. But I don’t know how to feel about Jared giving up on me. And I should. I should know this. Moral clarity, based on what I embrace as true for my life, has always been my guide. Right now I feel murkier than ever, stuck in this morass. Unsure.

The door opening shakes me from my philosophical musings on the couch. Quinn has a key. She appears, still dressed from her AesThetics meeting, I assume, because she’s very smartly turned out. In contrast I look . . .

“You look like shit,” she confirms what was heretofore only a suspicion.

“I figured as much.” I touch my swollen eyelids and cheeks still hot from crying.

“I brought reinforcements.” She holds up a plastic bag. “Vodka popsicles. Only a hundred calories, and it’s like alcohol and ice cream!”

I smile for the first time in what feels like years.

“That’s better than the pepperoni pizza I was contemplating.” I hold up the Gino’s menu.

She looks from my blotchy, swollen face to the menu.

“Some days call for pizza, honey.” She snatches the menu from me. “Don’t overthink it and don’t overdo it. Tomorrow’s a new day.”

She dials the number on the menu.

“Yes, do you have personal size? How many slices?” She beams at me. “We’ll take one of those.”

One hour and four miniature slices of pepperoni pizza later, two for each of us, she’s drawn the whole gory tale out of me, fully loaded with additional tears and self-recriminations. I hope I’d be as compassionate as she is listening to me. There’s no judgment in her kind eyes.

“I can’t believe I did this,” I gasp, fighting back more tears. “And all this damn crying. I don’t cry like this. I’m sorry.”

I blink back tears and stare at my hands tremoring in my lap.

“I hurt him so badly, Quinn. If you could have seen, have heard how crushed he was. Zo, the sweetest man on the planet, and I do this to him. I’m such a—”

“Ah, ah, ah . . .” Quinn slices in with a wagging finger. “Watch what you say about the woman who literally saved my life.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I shake my head and shake off the praise.

“I’m not.” Quinn puts her hands over mine. “I had one leg and a death wish when you came for me, lady. I’d already tried to kill myself twice, if you remember.”

Quinn’s normally cheery gaze goes solemn with the memories.

“You saw something in me no one else did, Banner,” she says softly. “And you wouldn’t stop, you stubborn bitch, until I saw it, too. And it made me want to live again.”

She blinks back tears of her own.

“Do you realize how many people you’ve done that for?” she asks. “How many guys are still in the NBA because of how you fight for them? Protect them? Smacked them on the head when they needed it? Everyone’s not like you. The way you care for people, how you fight for them, it’s extraordinary. Your loyalty is extraordinary.”

A humorless laugh huffs past my lips.

“I think Zo would probably question my loyalty right about now,” I say, glancing back down at my lap.

“You’re a good person who did something out of character. You can’t beat yourself up forever. Banging your head against the wall burns a hundred and fifty calories, but is that good for you?”

“What?” I laugh, even though I’m not sure when I’ll be rid of this guilt. “Oh my God.”

“I’m just saying I know it will take time, but you’ll have to forgive yourself,” she says, sharing a smile with me. “And the connection you describe with Jared, what I saw for myself between the two of you, it’s hard to ignore—to walk away from—especially if your relationship is . . .”

Quinn squints, searching for the right word.

“Unsatisfying,” she settles on. “You probably knew before Jared even came back into your life that things were not quite what they should be with Zo. It’s painful now, but maybe in the long run . . .”

I process that, not sure I’m ready to let myself off the hook that easily.

“And Jared Foster?” Quinn asks tentatively. “May I ask a highly inappropriate and insensitive question?”

My lips quirk into another smile. “Those are your specialty, aren’t they?”

Her eyes are avid, and she’s practically licking her lips. “Was it good?”

Good would be an understatement. I’m forming words for what sex with Jared was like when the doorbell rings. I glance down at my grimy appearance and grimace.

“Yeah, I’ll get it,” Quinn says, standing and patting my shoulder reassuringly on her way to the door. “And get rid of whoever it is. Have one of those Popsicles!”

I’m giving the frozen alcoholic treat a nice long lick when she reappears, eyes bright and cheeks rosy. Or what I like to call the Jared Foster effect. He walks in right behind her.

God, why does he have to look like that?

Jared’s appeal has never been wholly physical. I’ve seen lots of beautiful men in my line of work. True specimens of manhood. There’s more to my connection with Jared than how gorgeous he is.