Block Shot (Hoops #2)(93)

“Why didn’t they call me immediately?” Frustration sharpens my tone. “They’re supposed to.”

“Zo told them not to.” Cal’s curiosity crackles across the line. “What the hell is going on, Banner? If you two are having some kind of lover’s quarrel, I don’t need to know, but if this shit is affecting business, you need to fix it.”

“I’ve got everything under control.”

My reply sounds certain despite the chaos my life is spinning into. Jared’s face is stone as he listens to my side of the conversation. Cal’s questions, demands, and thinly-veiled threats nip at me over the phone. And somewhere in a Vancouver hospital, my best friend has suffered alone in what he would consider his personal hell. Nothing is under my control, especially not my galloping heartbeat or the trepidation and anxiety roiling inside.

“You better,” Cal warns. “Get up there, figure out what the hell is going on, and report back.”

He hangs up, and I stare at the phone for a few seconds, immobilized by worry and shock.

“Zo’s in the hospital?” Jared asks softly from his spot at the door.

“Yes.” I swallow tears and choke back all the questions and fears fighting for a way out. Jared is not the person I should talk to about Zo. He can’t be. I walk over to the closet, drag my suitcase out, and start tossing clothes in, not even paying attention to what I’m packing.

“Hey.” Jared gathers my hands in his and forces me to stop long enough to look at him. “Tell me what’s going on, Ban.”

“He passed out.” I close my eyes and try to block all the worst-case scenarios. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation, but they’ve been running tests for three days.”

Helpless tears fill my eyes, and I want to be weak for a moment, but there’s no time for weakness. Zo may have no time for my weakness. He’ll need me strong. The worst part is that I’ll have to convince him to let me help at all.

“So you’re leaving?” Jared asks, a muscle flexing along the sharp angle of his jaw.

“I have to.” I shake my hands loose to cup his face, staring into the concern and doubt in his eyes. “Zo hasn’t told them yet that he’s leaving. Cal didn’t know about any of it.”

“Maybe he doesn’t plan to fire you after all,” Jared murmurs, his full mouth in a humorless tilt. “I wouldn’t if I wanted you back.”

“This isn’t about him wanting me back.” I turn to the closet again and pull clothes off hangers and toss them carelessly, swiftly into my suitcase. “They haven’t been able to figure out what’s wrong, and he hates hospitals.”

“And you’re off to the rescue, of course,” Jared says. “I’m sure he has a spot at his bedside waiting for you.”

I pause long enough to glare at him.

“That’s not fair,” I snap. “Could you just be human enough to care about someone other than yourself for one damn second?”

At my harsh words, a guard drops over Jared’s face, like the visor of a helmet in battle, and he steps back, away from me.

“Jared, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s true, though, right?” His laugh is a mace swinging through the air, and I don’t bother ducking. “I’ve said it myself. I’m a selfish bastard, but I won’t pretend this doesn’t bother me.”

“I get that, but please believe what I told you last night.” I reach for him, frame his handsome face in my hands and let him look into my eyes so he can see that I mean what I’m about to say. “It’s just you.”

I can feel the tautly held muscles in his face relax under my touch. One arm scoops me in close and the other buries his fingers in the hair at my neck. I can’t say I’ve ever seen tenderness on Jared Foster’s face, but the way he’s looking at me now, it’s the closest I think he’s come.

“I didn’t mean to be an asshole.” He grimaces. “I mean, that is my naturally occurring state, but I know he’s in the hospital. He’s your client. He’s your friend. Of course, you’ll go make sure he’s okay.”

“I have to.”

“You have to,” he agrees, nodding and tightening his hands on me. “Just remember us, okay? That we have something . . .”

He grapples for a second, searching for the word that is already on the tip of my tongue.

“Special?” I offer quietly.

He nods and bends to kiss the spray of freckles across my nose.

“Yeah. We have something special.”





31





Banner





“Who the hell called you?”

Zo’s angry question is the first shot fired as soon as I enter the hospital room. I set aside any distress I feel at seeing him, big and vulnerable. Too big for the hospital bed, too vulnerable to be the strong man who has been my best friend for the last decade.

“I think the better question is,” I say, arranging my face into the implacable agent I need to be for him right now, “why didn’t you call me?”

“Do you really want me to tell all these nice people why you would be the last person I call?” he asks, still in English.