Stick Your Landing (All In #3)

33. Zach

33

Zach

The flight to Boston for game one of a four-day road trip involves two and a half hours of travel and a lot of glares from Matt. He’s avoided speaking to me outside his official role as my captain. At some point, he needs to move on. Or at least that’s what I tell myself.

Matt’s been a critical part of me adjusting to playing in the NHL and feeling at home in Palmer City. Matt and Gemma include me in every holiday celebration and countless family dinners. They’ve helped me figure out adult shit more times than I can count. They gave me a family.

I don’t want to think about the possibility of Matt never forgiving me.

I wait until we’re off the plane to approach him. His clenched jaw should send me in the opposite direction, but I know he won’t come to me. If I want a chance to repair this relationship, I have to make the first move.

“Hey, man.”

Matt doesn’t look up from his phone.

“I want to apologize. It’s not cool that I didn’t talk to you first and went behind your back. You’ve been a great friend and a kickass captain… and honestly, my family. I don’t want to lose that, to lose you.”

Matt slips his phone into his back pocket and regards me with cool eyes. “Let me get this straight. You’re sorry because you lied, but you’re not sorry for fucking my sister?”

“I told you it’s not like th—”

He raises a skeptical eyebrow. “So you didn’t have sex with my sister, Zach? After I told you she wasn’t in any place to date.”

The first name stings. He’s never called me that before, ever.

How much easier would it be to tell him no? But since I’m asking for forgiveness for lying, it’d be a stupid fucking move to lie.

“No, I did, but—”

Matt throws up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it!”

“I love her. I’m in love with Finley. I’m… serious about her.”

He scoffs. “You’re not serious about anything.”

“Come on, dude. We’ve played professional hockey together for three seasons, and you see me take it seriously. I work my ass off day in and day out. It’s fucking insulting to say I’m never serious.”

I turn on my heel but hesitate to walk away. If this is my one shot, I need to make it count. “And I’m serious about your sister. I love her. She’s my opposite in so many ways, but it’s the exact ways I need. She’s strong and beautiful and has such a good heart. She’s driven and so talented. How could you want to keep her away from what she loves to do? When she’s in the gym, Finley lights up more than anywhere else.”

“You have no idea what she’s been through. You’re not the first guy to take advantage—”

“I’m not fucking Garrett. Give me more credit than that.”

Matt’s eyes widen. “She told you about him?”

“She told me everything, including about her return to gymnastics. Think about why she’d do that, why she’s been keeping secrets from you.”

He doesn’t say a word as I walk away.

Most of the team heads to dinner after our decisive win against Boston, extending our win streak. But I’m in the backseat of the car service I ordered yesterday, on my way to Finley after Gemma gave me the Harris’s address.

It’s one in the morning when I reach Finley’s childhood home, dark except for one room on the second floor, where dim lights illuminate the window. I’d bet anything it’s her room and she’s awake binge-watching the show she keeps telling me I need to watch from the beginning with her.

I slip my winter hat on and tighten my coat around me. The North Carolina weather has thinned my blood in the limited time I’ve lived there. If my family and friends saw me now, they’d petition to revoke my Canadian citizenship.

Me

I’m outside and don’t want to ring your doorbell

I wait a few minutes for a response, but like my other messages, it isn't marked as read. Ringing the doorbell and announcing my presence to her parents is out of the question. I pick up a pebble from the driveway, rear back, and toss it in the direction of the window, praying I’m not wrong about it belonging to Finley.

I snatch another pebble, readying to throw at the window again when the curtain flutters, and Finley appears there. Her mouth falls open, and one hand clutches her chest. I wave toward the porch until the curtain flutters shut and Finley disappears from view. I approach the front door, hoping she’s on her way to me, otherwise I’ll have a miserable drive back to Boston, brokenhearted.

The door eases open as my feet land on the porch steps. Finley pokes her head out, mouth moving but she's speaking so softly, I can’t hear anything until I’m beside her.

“Don’t make a sound,” she whispers directly in my ear as her hand grasps mine and tugs me inside.

The contact sets my skin aflame. I’ve missed being close to her and so desperately wish we were headed to my apartment to be alone.

“Follow my path exactly so we don’t make noise.”

I nod, entirely focusing on Finley despite my curiosity about her childhood home. She sucks in a tiny breath when we reach the second floor and tiptoe past a couple of closed doors. I follow her lead, holding my breath until she releases hers after her bedroom door closes.

She looks more gorgeous than I remember in black sweatpants rolled twice at her hips, a thin strip of bare skin showing below a thin white tank. Nothing exists beneath her shirt, giving me a full view of her pointed nipples. My gaze shoots to the ceiling, ripping away from Finley before my brain malfunctions, and I lose sight of what we need to discuss.

“Can you… would you mind putting on a sweatshirt?” I stutter.

“You’re good now,” she says a moment later, her tone emotionless. No teasing. No laughing. I can’t detect one ounce of amusement on her face. I flashback to Christmas, her bright smile at the sight of me awake, gazing at her.

Finley is sitting cross-legged on her bed when my eyes find her again.

“You’re here.”

“I missed you,” I say, stuffing my hands into my jeans pockets. She fidgets in her seat, looking at her lap. “I guess you feel differently because you haven’t been answering texts.”

She sighs. “I haven’t had my phone since the last message I sent you.”

I sit on the bed across from her, keeping my hands at my sides.

Her chest rises and falls rapidly, visible beneath a baggy gray Harper Cove Elite Gymnastics sweatshirt. She shakes her head, hair swaying into her face, keeping her expression concealed. “You deserve better than my mess. You shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“Deal with what?”

Her head lifts, my heart caving in when her watery gaze lands on my face. I hate seeing her like this.

“A crazy girlfriend.”

I grip her chin lightly with my fingertips, pulling her face to mine. “Never call yourself crazy. You’re not crazy.”

She swallows hard. “Okay.”

“You can’t scare me off, High-flyer.” I release her chin but keep my eyes trained on hers. “I will never not want you. Any version of you. If you don’t want to leave your bed, I’ll crawl in beside you. I want to be with you wherever and however you are.”

Finley’s stare lingers. I nod, silently confirming she heard me correctly. She launches toward me, and I catch her, wrapping my arms around her back, breathing in her comforting scent. Finley takes a staggering breath and tightens her arms around my neck.

“I’ve missed you too,” she says, voice thick with emotion. “But I want what’s best for you.”

I nudge her back by her shoulders until we’re eye to eye again. She needs to see the truth as much as she needs to hear it. “You are what’s best for me. I love you, Finley. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”

Her fingertips land on my lips, silencing me.

“I could never forget,” she whispers before replacing her fingers with her mouth, sucking ever so softly on my lips. I let her do what she wants, remaining still as she moves against me.

All restraint goes to hell when her teeth gently scrape my bottom lip, sending a tingle up my spine.

My hands land on her ass, boosting her into my lap. She lets out a sigh, then kisses her way down my neck while I move her against me, back and forth. The people who rush to the main event seriously miss out. The tease can feel like torture, but it’s not something I’d ever turn down.

The thought of people brings me back to myself, to this moment.

“Wait,” I say, pulling back from her. I hate myself a little when I see those red swollen lips. “We can’t do this here. I don’t want your parents to meet me for the first time as your boyfriend like this. They’ve always been kind to me.”

Finley clicks her mouth. “I hate to break it to you, but…”

I groan. “They hate me already?”

“My mom’s excited. I told her all about you.”

“But your dad’s no longer a fan. I get it.” I stand, then collapse on the bean bag about ten feet away. “Besides, I know you need to stick to your routine. Lack of sleep can bring on an episode.”

Her hands flash at me like two red blinking stop signs. “Wait—have you been talking to my brother about me?”

I choke out a laugh. “I tried explaining—”

“No, I mean, about my bipolar disorder. How do you know about routine and triggers?”

“I’ve been listening to a book about it. Some podcasts too. There’s a lot of great information out there, especially for loved ones of people with bipolar disorder.”

Finley shifts, dangling her legs over the side of her bed. “You read about bipolar disorder?”

“I listened ,” I reply, pointing to one of my ears.

“Listening to audiobooks is reading. I don’t care what anyone says.”

I laugh. “Okay, then yes. I read about bipolar disorder. I want to know everything I can, learn how I can be the best partner to you. That’s the bare minimum of what you deserve, Finley.”

She’s at a loss for words again.

I snatch a book off her bed, turning it over to stare at the cover. The backdrop is a mixture of purple and blue with a blond hockey player holding a brunette skater. “A hockey romance? What possibly could have sparked this interest?”

She giggles, clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound as I tickle her. Finley thrashes, but my weight holds her steady. I finally relent when her breath grows shallow, and her hands drop from her mouth to clutch her stomach, in stitches after minutes of laughing.

I flop back on the bed, holding the book out to her. “So are you up to reading?”

Finley props her chin on my chest. “How will you get back?”

“The driver outside. I hired him for the whole night.”

“ Zach .”

“What? I’m paying his daily fee for the next few days.”

She tosses an arm around my abdomen. “Can we talk instead? I like the sound of your voice.”

I love that she knows me well enough not to ask me to read to her. I would, of course, but it’d be slow and frustrating, especially with how tired I am.

I chuckle. “You might be the only one.”

Her head settles in the crook of my arm, twisting a few times before she's comfortable. “I’m okay with that. I don’t want anyone else falling in love with you.”

“What about me? You’re not worried about me falling in love with someone else?”

“Zach Briggs, you’re the most loyal person I know. I don’t need to worry.”

Her faith in me gives me a deep satisfaction like few other things do—scoring a goal, blocking a shot, delivering a sick assist. The belief from my teammates and the roar of the fans build me up. I soak in the validation like a comedian who just made an auditorium erupt into laughter or a stage actor bowing and receiving applause from the crowd. I never expected the feeling could exist thanks to only one person, but it does with her.

She presses a kiss on my cheek. “Tell me a story from when we were apart.”

My mind flips through the last couple of weeks, most of which I spent missing her. Then I land on one. “Jennings found this goose in his backyard the other day, and I got a little too close…”

Half an hour later, Finley has drifted to sleep to the sound of my voice.