Page 98 of The Wrong Game

The anthem started playing before Zach had the chance to introduce us, and a knot formed in my stomach for reasons I couldn’t place as we all turned our attention to the flag. It was just meeting someone in his family — which, in a way, I sort of had already done with Doc. And it was just a football game, it wasn’t like we were going to sit down and talk for hours over a dinner.

But Zach had admitted to me that family was important to him, that his little brother was a huge part of his world. And now he was here, to meet me.

For some reason, I was instantly nervous at what that might mean to Zach.

At what it might mean for us.

“Gemma,” Zach said when the anthem was done, leaning back a little so his brother could see me. “This is my little brother, Micah.”

The grin on Zach’s mini me’s face doubled as his hand reached for mine, and as soon as he held it, he let out a long whistle, kissing my ice-cold hand with a playful grin.

“Damn,” he said, shaking his head as he took me in. “My brother said you were smokin’ hot, but honestly, I didn’t believe him. He doesn’t exactly have the best taste in… well, anything.”

Zach rolled his eyes, nudging his little brother hard in the ribs as he dropped my hand. But I chuckled.

I tucked my hands back in the pockets of my coat. “Thanks… I think?”

“Oh, it’s definitely a compliment.” Micah looked up at his brother. “Bold strategy bringing me here, bro. Might just steal your girl by the time this game is over.”

“In your dreams,” Zach answered, throwing one arm around Micah’s neck. He rubbed his head with the opposite fist, fluffing up his hair before Micah finally shoved him off.

My stomach flipped at the way he’d called me Zach’s girl.

WasI his girl?

I mean, we were clearly only seeing each other, and we’d turned our back on the games we’d played that first month we’d known each other. But, was I his?

Was hemine?

Why my brain picked that exact moment to remind me that we’d never talked about it was beyond me. But it was like standing behind a curtain that had slipped, and I saw everything outside. I tried righting the curtain, but I couldn’t. Now that I’d thought about it, now that my brain had latched on, I couldn’t let it go.

I hadn’t been thinking about it. But, we never set any guidelines, we never decided what we are and what we aren’t. Now, I’m here meeting his younger brother — someone important to him.

And that little asshole part of my brain that needed control, that needed boundaries and explicit direction, took over everything.

“Are you okay?” Zach asked, leaning closer and lowering his voice to where Micah couldn’t hear. The Jets had won the coin toss and had just received the first kick, anyway, so his attention was on the field. “With this, I mean. With me bringing Micah?”

I blinked, shaking off the daze Micah had somehow stunned me into. “Yes, of course. I’m excited to meet him. I’m honored,” I said, voice lower. “I know how important he is to you.”

Zach smiled at that, his hand leaving his own pocket to dive into mine. He laced our fingers together, eyes shining. “He is. And so are you.”

I smiled, heart swelling at his words at the same time my brain picked up weapons and body armor. They were on two different pages, as they had been since I’d learned of Carlo’s infidelity.

“Wait,” Micah said from Zach’s other side, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the field. “Where are the cheerleaders? Are they inside or something because of the rain?”

“There are no cheerleaders,” Zach answered.

“WHAT?!”

I laughed at Micah’s outrage, leaning more into Zach to harbor his body heat. The rain was picking up, and it was getting colder with each new drop. “Come on,” I chided. “Every Bears fan knows we don’t have cheerleaders. We have the band, instead,” I said, nodding to the section where our band was, waiting to fire up the “Bear Down” song whenever we scored.

“Man, we got gipped,” Micah said, flopping down into his seat and crossing his arms.

The rest of the section was sitting, too, the ball down at the other end of the field as the Jets tried to score, so Zach and I took our seats.

“Just wait until we score,” I said, trying to bring him comfort. “This stadium roaring out the lyrics to ‘Bear Down’ is way more entertaining than some skirts on the field.”

“Psh,” Micah said, one brow climbing into his hair line. “Speak for yourself. I’m sixteen years old. There’s nothing more entertaining to me right now than some skirts flying up and showing a little booty.”