Stick Your Landing (All In #3)

3. Zach

3

Zach

Finley’s last name is Harris.

Is that revelation the source of my headache? Or is it the concussion? Probably the concussion, but being attracted to my friend’s sister isn't helping the pain. At least he isn’t here to see the way my gaze remains glued to the staircase as I wait for her to descend the morning after she found me on the kitchen floor.

How long has she lived in Palmer City, in this house? Matt never said anything about his sister moving in with him, but I haven’t seen Gemma or Matt much since they became parents. Still, it bothers me that Finley’s been in my city and I didn’t know.

“You look like you have a raging hangover.” Gemma waves wildly at me as she zips around the kitchen, pulling cooking equipment and ingredients from different cabinets.

“I wish I did,” I grumble.

I’m wearing sunglasses and a hoodie to avoid ending up on the kitchen floor again. I don’t need Finley’s third impression of me to be as embarrassing as the first two. I’ve never found an explanation for why this incredible woman didn’t ditch me immediately after I asked her to help me find a restroom, let alone get on her knees for me. I never told anyone what happened, tucking away the memory of her warm mouth wrapped around my cock, only bringing it out when alone.

Shit . I cannot think about that. I can’t think about it at all .

Finley lives in the room next to mine, and I’ll be staying here while I recover. If I think about our hookup, she’ll know. I can’t keep anything off my face. Last night’s tease about her not liking being on the ground made her uncomfortable, and I don’t want that for her in her own home.

I don’t have a great filter, and when confronted with Finley Harris, it fails 100 percent of the time.

Gemma places a hand on my forearm. “Take it easy. Follow the doctor’s orders, and you’ll be back on the ice in no time.”

The doctor ordered no hockey, no screens, no anything that could hurt my brain. The season just started, and I’m stuck on the sidelines after working my ass off all summer. In a couple of seconds, my opportunity to prove to the team I deserve a deal and last season was a blip vanished. I try not to think about it, because when I do, bitterness consumes me, and I have no outlet for it.

I drop my head to the counter. “I hate this. What the hell am I supposed to do all day?”

Other than dwell on my injury . I’m supposed to begin light activity today, but I can’t think of anything more depressing than taking a walk alone without music.

Gemma drops ingredients into a bowl and blends them with a mixer. Her arm sweeps out toward the room next to the kitchen, and she winks. “We have plenty of books.”

No one sees me as the kind of guy who’d pick up a book, and they aren’t wrong. Reading isn’t easy for a person with dyslexia. Gemma wouldn’t joke if she knew.

I learned coping strategies when I was younger, but I always find reading to be a challenge. Doing it with a concussion would strain my brain in a way I’m not willing to risk.

The sound of footsteps saves me from having to respond. My gaze bolts to the staircase, and there’s Finley striding down to the first floor, her long blond hair swaying in a ponytail. She’s wearing baggy forest green sweatpants with “Wolves” written on her right thigh. Her gray sweatshirt sports the same word.

I wish she were wearing my number and last name.

Stop it . If I didn’t have a concussion, I would hit myself across the face.

“Good morning, Fi.” Gemma’s cheerful voice echoes. “Take a seat. Breakfast is almost ready.”

Finley’s eyes meet mine, and her footsteps pause. She recovers quickly, continuing toward where I sit on a counter stool, but I read every hint of hesitation. She deposits her bag on the floor before taking the chair beside mine.

I’ve replayed our hookup in my mind hundreds of times, and I still don’t know what I did to drive her away that night. I don’t even know what I did to attract her attention to begin with. It makes no sense for someone like her to be interested in someone like me, especially if my hockey career works against me. It’s my strongest point; if it doesn’t sell her, nothing about me will.

Not that I should care about her opinion of me. She’s Matt’s sister.

That fact does nothing to dull my attraction to her, to stop my eyes from snapping to her when she walks into a room, like a damn motion sensor.

“It’s good to see you upright this morning.” She leans into my space and pitches her voice low so Gemma can’t hear.

And of course she smells deliciously sweet, like fucking fruity coconut. Because that’s how the universe works, dangling what you want but can’t have right in front of you.

“It’s good to see you,” I say.

Her cheeks flush as she pulls back from me, the guy who can’t take a damn hint. “So what’s for breakfast?” she asks.

Gemma turns away from the stovetop and deposits a plate of waffles in front of us. “I didn’t know what you’d want, so I made chocolate chip waffles. Usually a crowd-pleaser.” Her eyebrow quirks. “Right?”

My stomach rumbles. After collapsing on the floor last night, I didn’t eat anything.

Finley glances sideways at me, a small smile on her face after hearing what sounded like a monstrous beast in my gut. “It’s perfect. Thanks, Gemma.”

“You sleep well?” Gemma asks Finley. There’s a crease between her eyes as she watches Finley take a swig of water.

“Yeah… I mean, who wouldn’t? Everything here is nicer than any place I’ve ever stayed.”

The crease vanishes, and Gemma beams. She designed this entire house, and when she gives a tour, she tells everyone where she found every single item. Finley must know this. Is her answer sleight of hand meant to keep Gemma from looking at something Finley doesn’t want her to find?

I remember her words from the night we met. If you want safe, you should stay away from me .

Finley spears a stack of waffles and plops them on her plate. I watch her carve a bite and bring it to her lips. She raises an eyebrow when she catches me staring.

“What’s the verdict?” I ask to deflect from the actual reason I’m watching her. She takes my entire attention any time we’re in the same room.

She swallows. “Amazing, as always. I’m going to gain so much weight living here.”

Gemma waves a hand at Finley. “As if you have anything to worry about.”

I’m glad Gemma said it before I could accidentally make our living situation more uncomfortable. Finley was kind about finding me on the floor last night. I clutched her offered hand like a lifeline, not letting go until we reached our rooms. She waited in the doorway until I settled into bed before retreating to her room, as if she was worried about me. I can’t forget it.

Finley shakes her head. “Check with me again in three months.” She takes another enthusiastic bite of waffle, as if it’s a future problem she’s banishing from her mind.

Gemma moves the last waffle to a plate before shutting the heat off. “With the way you work out, I’m not concerned.”

“You work out a lot?” I resist the urge to slam my face into the counter. I didn’t mean for it to sound like a stupid line.

Finley covers her mouth to stifle a laugh. “I go to the gym.”

“You should take Zach with you,” Gemma says. She discreetly winks at me, like she’s doing me a favor. I worry she’s seen something I’m desperately trying to hide, but if she suspected anything between the two of us, she would interrogate me. Gemma loves to meddle, something well-known among our group of friends. I suppose everyone has a guilty-pleasure hobby. “He didn’t love my suggestion to read a book.”

Finley playfully gasps. “The horror.”

“I’m taking Elodie to a playdate this afternoon, but I don’t want to leave Zach alone.”

I drop my fork onto my plate with a dramatic clang. “I can take care of myself, Gemma.”

Gemma reaches over the counter to tap my forearm in a placating manner. “Of course you can.” She swivels her gaze back to Finley. “So can you take him to the gym?”

Finley nods toward me. “He looks like he’s on the run from the cops.”

“I can put my hood down.”

Staying here, all alone, for the rest of the day without hockey, Netflix, or video games sounds like my personal hell. Besides, I want more time with Finley.

Finley laughs. “Yeah, because that’s what looks unusual.”

“Sunglasses indoors are cool, Finley.”

“It’ll be loud,” she replies.

Zach pats a pocket in his jeans. “I have earplugs.”

Gemma laughs, light and airy. “He’ll be fine.”

“I don’t—”

Gemma cuts her off in a tone that doesn’t invite additional input. “It’ll be good for you to have company.”

Finley goes silent. I see gears turning in her head, but I don’t know what worries her. Does she regret what happened between us two years ago? Does she not want to be seen in public with me?

I’m not that embarrassing. I play professional hockey with thousands of fans who don’t care what I wear as long as they have the chance to talk to me and get my autograph.

“You won’t know I’m there,” I assure her, because even if she doesn’t want to be around me, I can’t stop wanting to be around her.

Finley hesitates for an excruciatingly long second. “Can you be ready in thirty?”