Page 87 of The Wrong Game

Zach cleared his throat, and it was as if that brought him back to the moment, like he’d had to step out of his own body to process what I’d said and now he was back again.

“What happened?” he asked.

I pressed my eyes closed hard before letting them flutter open again, my heart dipping into my stomach. “He died.”

This time, Zach did stop, pulling me to a halt with him when we were just a few blocks from my apartment. His mouth hung open, eyes shielded under bent brows as they searched mine.

“Gemma…”

“It’s okay,” I said quickly, tearing my gaze from his. I shoved my hair behind my ears and folded my arms over my chest. “Really. It’s been almost a year now.”

“I…” Zach paused, shaking his head as another thick swallow grazed his throat. “I just, I don’t even know what to say.I’m sorrysounds so weak and… nowhere near accurate for how I feel right now.”

“I’m sorryworks fine, Zach. That’s a normal reaction.”

He shook his head more vigorously, stepping into me as his fingers hooked through the loops on my jeans. “It’s not enough. I wish I had the right words.” A long exhale left his lips. “Gemma, I hate that you had to endure that. I can’t even imagine what that was like, and I’m just sorry that you had to experience it.”

“It’s okay, really,” I said again, and I tugged him forward. “Can we just, can we keep walking? I’m cold, I want to get inside.”

“Of course,” he said, pulling me into his side.

I wanted to say more, but I think we both knew in that moment that I was spent. All the adrenaline, the rush from before, it had passed through me like a ghost or a high-speed train, and now I was weak and tired, and more vulnerable than I’d ever been.

I wasn’t ready to tell him more. For now, this was all I could give.

“Thank you,” he whispered into my hair as we walked, pressing a kiss to my head. His arm was tight around my shoulder, and it seemed his breaths were as pained as mine. “For telling me that.”

I nodded. “Thank you for making me feel like I could.”

When we made it back to my place, Zach rode the elevator upstairs and walked me to my door, but didn’t ask to come inside. In a way, I wanted him to, wanted to lose myself in him physically so I could get out of my head. But I was also exhausted, and more than anything, I just wanted my bed.

“Thank you again for tonight,” I said, shaking off the weight of what I’d told him and forcing a smile. “It was… terrifying.” I chuckled. “But amazing, too.”

Zach smirked. “I’m honored you spent the night with me.”

“You know, I’d love to see you in your element sometime,” I said. Zach just quirked a brow, so I explained further. “Football. I’d love to watch you play.”

“Ah,” he said, one hand reaching for the back of his neck. I noticed the way his smile fell, his cheeks blushing. “Well, kind of hard to watch me since I don’t play anymore, but maybe we could play catch or something. Before the away game next Sunday?”

“I’d like that,” I said. “A little birthday present for me.”

At that, Zach frowned. “Um, what?”

“Sunday is my birthday.”

“Sunday is your birthday and you’re just telling menow?”

I laughed. “It’s not a big deal.”

“You’re turning thirty.”

“Don’t make a big deal of this.”

“But, you’re turningthirty.”

“Zach,” I warned, and I pulled out a finger gun, threatening to poke him. “I want hot dogs, football, and beer. Not necessarily in that order, but all three are required. Past that, I don’t want anything else. No cake, no frills, no balloons or crazy signs. I just want to watch the games and enjoy a normal Sunday.”

Zach’s face scrunched up like it pained him to agree to anything I’d just said, and I raised one brow, advancing my finger like I was going to poke him.