Page 109 of The Wrong Game

It was quieter out here, the way it had been at the house I shared with Carlo.

I missed it a little bit.

“We’re going to have pie,” Mrs. Bowen said, sliding up beside where I stood, my elbows resting on the white, metal railing. I’d been so lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t even heard her come outside. “If you’ve got any room in that tiny belly of yours.”

I smiled, patting said tummy. “Oh, if you only knew how many hot dogs I have hidden in here.”

Mrs. Bowen let out a sharp laugh. “Yes, my son told me you were a hot dog girl. Which, normally, I wouldn’t have a problem with. Except…”

“He told you I like ketchup on them.”

She grimaced, letting her head hang with a sigh. “I’d hoped it wasn’t true.”

I chuckled, and she offered me a small smile as she propped her elbows up on the railing next to mine. We both watched the sun sink a little lower, and I couldn’t shake the feeling I’d had all night. It wasn’t one of anxiety, or nervousness, or worry.

It was one of comfort.

Being there, in that house, with Zach and his family — it felt like I belonged. It felt like I could be there again, someday in the future, or maybe even next week. It felt like I always had a place there if I wanted it.

“You know, Zach told me something else about you,” Mrs. Bowen said, her eyes still cast across the yard. “He told me you were there for him last night. When he found out about Doc.”

My stomach twisted into a tight knot at the mention of last night.

Zach had called me, frantic, at almost two in the morning. He wouldn’t tell me what was wrong, but he asked me to come over, and I got out of that bed faster than I ever had before. I rushed to him, worry laced in every bone of my body, and when he’d opened that door, he’d crushed me in a grip so tight I thought I’d suffocate.

But I didn’t. I just held him tight, too.

He’d needed me, and I let him take what I could give. It was an urgent passion, one without words or any trace of playfulness. And when we were done, he held me and told me that Doc was leaving, and that he had to make a choice of either keeping the bar or selling it.

“Did you know?” I asked her. “That Doc was leaving.”

She let out a long sigh and nodded. “Yes. He asked us not to tell Zach. He wanted to be the one to do it. I think…” She paused. “I think he felt a little like he was abandoning him, even though this move is something Doc has wanted for a long time. That man is just as much of a parent to Zach as Daniel and I are.”

I nodded. “Zach loves him. He’s worried about what to do, what the right decision is.”

“He’ll figure it out, though,” Mrs. Bowen said, and I couldn’t help but watch as the same smile that always found Zach’s face spread across hers in that moment. Zach definitely favored his father, but he had her in him, too.

“He will,” I agreed.

Her smile dropped a little, and she turned to face me, worrying her lip like she wasn’t sure about what she wanted to say next.

“He’s been through a lot,” she said softly. “More than anyone at his age should ever have to go through. I know he probably doesn’t talk about it much, because that’s not the type of man he is, but he’s sacrificed a lot. For Doc, for his brother, for this entire family.”

I frowned, shifting so I was facing her, too. “He’s told me how important family is to him.”

Mrs. Bowen nodded. “Sometimes, I think Zach forgets that he’s allowed to live life forhimself,too. He’s always so quick to put others first. But… maybe this is his chance. Whether he keeps the bar or sells it to do something else, I hope he’ll make the choice thathewants to make.”

My stomach twisted in the same way it had when Micah had talked about Zach at the game. Both he and his mother knew more than I did, knew how soft Zach was when he wasn’t making jokes or taking care of business.

And now, after last night, I was starting to see that side of him, too.

“Hey, you two quit gossiping and get in here,” Zach said, peeking out of the sliding glass door.

Mrs. Bowen smiled, squeezing my arm before turning toward the door.

“It was nice talking to you, Mrs. Bowen,” I said, following behind her.

“Oh, please,” she said. “It’s Pamela. And it was a pleasure talking to you, too, my dear.” At that, she turned to her son, pinching his cheek with a grin before she turned back to me. “Take care of my boy for me, will ya?”