She glanced at Zac, smiled a little, and nodded.
I was pretty positive that Zac was breathing a lot harder than normal as he led the way after the woman, and I had to bite my lip, then bite my tongue to keep from cracking up at the fact he was so nervous and trying desperately to hide it.
I set my hand on his waist, feeling how trim it was, and gave him a squeeze of support.
He set one hand on top of mine and kept it there as I followed after him, inches away as we headed into the tiny exam room. We introduced ourselves as Zac took a seat on the exam table, and I could see the big gulps of breath he was trying not to take but failing and taking them anyway.
He was already pale, or at least paler than he’d been when he’d gotten to the house.
And I knew the woman could tell too because her gaze moved from his slightly trembling hands to his face and back.
I met her eyes, and we smiled at each other.
She knew. “Okay, Zac, this won’t take me very long. I’ll draw the blood from your right arm, and then we’ll work on your knee. If you’re fine with it, I’ve got this handy spray that will help you not feel a thing, is that okay?”
His “Yes, ma’am” nearly killed me.
Well, I was here for a reason, even if he was in denial.
“Hey, Zac?” I asked before taking a seat right beside the table and then scooting it closer to him.
Those blue eyes moved to me, and his Adam’s apple bobbed savagely. “Yeah, Bibi?” he asked in a weak voice.
I slipped my hand between his and his thigh, sliding my fingers through his, linking them together. They were ice cold. He’d changed into some shorts, and I could feel his leg hair under my fingers. “I called WatchTube again. They won’t tell me what’s going on yet. Can you believe that?”
“They won’t tell you what’s goin’ on?” he asked, gaze moving in the direction of the woman who was busy pulling needles and who the hell else knew what out.
“Nope,” I told him with a sigh that sounded shaky to me. “All they’re saying is that they’re ‘investigating it.’ Motherfuckers. And to ‘give them time.’” His gaze was still on the woman who had turned to face him as she fiddled with the packaging for a needle. “Can you believe that?” I asked, trying to get him to look at me. “I cried again.”
That had him turning to me, a frown on his drawn face. “Don’t cry. We’ll get it back. I promised you. I’ll get Trevor to see if he can find someone’s number and give ’em a call to get it sorted.”
Good, he was still looking at me. “He doesn’t need to do that, but if you want him to….” I smiled. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Zac’s right arm get pulled out, and I knew she was about to withdraw his blood, so I squeezed his opposite hand. “I’m sure I’ll get it back, but they took down all my videos, and what if they can’t restore them?”
“Then we’ll get ’em to restore ’em,” he said, moving his fingers around mine in a massaging gesture. “You almost ready for the photographer? When is she comin’?”
“Getting there. And next week.” I rattled off the dates she would be over at Trevor’s house. “You have a home game, and I’ll try to get her out of the house by the time you’re there so you can relax.”
His mouth went flat. “Why you gotta rush her out? I wanna see everything too. Anything you need, all you gotta do is ask.” His fingers massaged mine a little more. “I’m so damn proud of you, Bibi.”
“I’m so proud of you too, old man.”
He was looking at me as his phone rang. Letting go of my hand, he pulled it out of the front pocket of his jeans, made a face, and set it on top of his thigh before leaning over just enough to take my hand again. He hadn’t looked at the woman, who had since withdrawn his blood and put it into some spinning, centrifugal machine thing that was busy going, and I knew I had to keep his attention until after he got the rest of his treatment finished. But my mind wandered for a second.
Had it been a girl calling?
Some pretty redhead in Houston now?
Or maybe a blonde in Dallas?
A brunette in Oklahoma?
“What’s that face for?” he asked quietly.
I met his gaze and shook my head, ignoring that little—okay, not so little—spike of jealousy in my stomach. And my chest. And head.
“Whatcha thinkin’?”
I shook my head again, knowing I needed to keep talking to him and not be some jealous friend who had no business feeling any kind of way.
“Tell me,” he insisted.
Well. I looked him dead in the eye and shrugged again. “You really have that many girls in your phone that you have to put in what they look like and what they do so you remember them all?” I asked, hoping like fucking hell I kept my face blank.
The fingers around mine twitched, and he got this funny expression on his face that made me feel like he was thinking about what I’d just asked. Zac even glanced down at his phone like he was considering it. “I….” He closed his mouth but met my gaze again. His eyebrows were knit together, and for the first time since he’d walked into the house, there was some color on his cheeks. Pink specifically.
“It’s all right; I was just being nosey,” I lied, offering him up a little smile that I also hoped like crazy was neutral. “You don’t need to tell me anything, Zac.”
“I don’t even know ’em,” he said quietly after a second. “I never answer or text ’em back. Not anymore.”
Why the hell had I even brought this up? I should have just kept my mouth shut and minded my own business.
I felt nauseous all of a sudden.
“Not in a long time,” he added in a soft voice that had me glancing down at the floor. I saw him give his phone a little flick that made it move across his thigh an inch. “Delete ’em for me.”
I pretended to look at my fingernails, draped between my thighs.
“All of ’em like that.” He kept going in that sweet voice that didn’t do anything for me.
I shook my head and hunched forward, placing my forehead on top of his thigh, my gaze glued to the tiles on the floor. “I’m too expensive. You don’t want to pay me hourly for that,” I mumbled. “And I’m starting to get a headache,” I told him as I straightened my fingers and tried to slip them out from his.
He didn’t let me.
Those million-dollar fingers tightened around mine in a super hold. “You wanna know what I have you under in my contacts?”
I wanted to shrug, but that felt way too personal. “Peewee?”
“No.” His fingers moved out from around mine, but before I had the chance to ball up my fist and take it away, his were back, stroking my thumb before doing the same to my other four fingers. “Try again.”
That time I did shrug. “Bianca?”
“Nope.” He linked our fingers together again, and I noticed then that they weren’t as cold or clammy anymore.
“I don’t know, Zac,” I told him.
The thigh under my forehead bounced a little. “Guess.”
It took everything in me not to sigh.
He loved me. Of course he liked women and had sex with them. Of course there were a ton of women who wanted to have sex with him and probably jumped at the opportunity to have his number.