The Hardest Fall(69)

He stopped eating and studied me with angry eyes.

When he didn’t say anything back, I started to lose my smile. After giving me a quick nod, he focused on his food again. Dylan had been one of the last ones to come in, so while I’d been taking shots of the players and the coaches who were eating, Dylan was nowhere to be found.

Picking up my fork, I pushed the broccoli stems around. “Are you okay?” I asked in a low voice as the silence turned uncomfortable, which had never happened between us before.

He dropped his fork with a clatter and reached for his water bottle.

Had I done something? I forced myself to swallow down a piece of broccoli and waited for him to say something.

Seconds passed, but nothing happened. As soon as he cleaned his plate, he started looking over his shoulders. It was obvious he didn’t want me sitting with him, and I had no idea why. Feeling a little bit hurt and, truth be told, confused, I cleared my throat and gathered up my plate so I could leave. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was bothering—”

I was halfway up when he stopped looking around the room and met my eyes. “Was that Coach I saw going into your room earlier?”

I dropped back down in my seat and my plate clattered on the table, drawing the curious eyes of his teammates.

“What?”

“You heard me. I was coming to your room to see if you wanted to hang out, but Coach made it there before me so I didn’t bother.”

I swallowed hard. How to get out of this one? “And?” It was a lame attempt to play it cool, but I had nothing else.

“And?” His nostrils flaring, he pushed at his plate and leaned over the table. “I didn’t know you were close enough to invite him into your room.” Something he saw in my face made him pause, but unfortunately, it didn’t stop him. “I didn’t see either of you around for an hour.”

My mouth opened and closed as my hands formed into fists under the table. I slid forward in my seat, mimicking his stance.

“An hour? What are you saying, Dylan?”

His eyebrows inched up to his hairline. “I think you know what I’m saying.”

I sat back. I did know what he was saying, and why was I so surprised anyway? I’d already expected him to think exactly what he was thinking, but how had I not anticipated the hurt it would cause to actually hear the confirmation?

“He was only in my room for five minutes, Dylan, six tops. My dad is driving in from Phoenix to see me, and Mark wanted to know if he was going to make it to the game tomorrow.”

My heart sank, and I hated myself a little more for the lie Mark had essentially forced me to tell.

“Your dad is coming,” he echoed.

“Yes.” I pushed my plate away, grabbed my camera, and stood up. “He should be here any second, so I better go…” I was waiting for him to say something, but it was pointless; he just studied me with his ocean blue eyes as if trying to decipher everything I couldn’t say out loud. “Yeah, I’ll just leave.” And with that clever closing remark, I pulled my eyes away from Dylan’s expectant gaze and walked away.

Instead of waiting in the lobby, I sat down outside on the stairs and tried not to think too much about Dylan and how my feelings for him were evolving from just a simple attraction. About an hour had passed when I saw a metallic blue truck coming my way. Quickly, I got up and ran toward it. As soon as my dad’s feet hit the ground, I threw myself into his arms and closed my eyes.

“Dad.”

His arms rounded my shoulders and he held on just as tight as I did, if not tighter.

“My little baby girl.”

My nose was already tingling. “I missed you,” I mumbled into his chest. “I missed you so much.”

His hand smoothed my hair down and he leaned back to look at my face.

“Zoe? What is this?”

His arms slowly dropped and he held my face in his palms, his thumbs wiping away my silent tears.

“Nothing,” I muttered after a pathetic sniffle, again pushing my head into his chest where I knew he would keep me safe.

I had no idea where the tears had come from—well, okay, I knew, but I hadn’t been planning on losing it so soon and worrying him. He sighed and burrowed closer, my body rocking with unexpected sobs as I realized how much I had missed him.

We heard a honk behind us, but I was reluctant to let him go, and thankfully, my dad showed no signs of hurrying. He kissed my forehead, brushed my tears away yet again, and nodded once he was sure I was holding it together.

“We’ll figure it all out together,” he murmured. Walking me back to the passenger side, he helped me up. When I was securely inside, he closed the door and jogged around the car. After lifting a hand in apology to the car behind us, he hopped in.

As I wiped my face with the back of my hand, my eyes caught on someone near the hotel door. He was leaning against one of the columns, arms crossed over his chest, his face unreadable from afar.

It was Dylan.



*

Around eleven thirty, my dad dropped me off back at the hotel and we had another tearful goodbye. He was spending the night at a different hotel—he didn’t want to come face to face with Mark—so we could spend a few more hours together the next day, but I didn’t want him to sit around and wait for me when I didn’t even know if I’d have any free time to sneak out.