Page 39 of Breakaway to You

Jordan hesitated, his confidence wavering under Zeke’s steady glare. He looked at me one last time, searching for some opening but found none.

“Fine,” Jordan said, his tone petulant. “But don’t come crying to me when this blows up in your face.”

Zeke took another step forward, and Jordan wisely turned and stalked out of the lobby.

As the doors closed behind him, I let out my breath.

“You okay?” Zeke asked, his voice softer now.

I nodded, though my hands trembled slightly. “Thanks for stepping in.”

Zeke tilted his head, studying me. “You didn’t need me to. You handled yourself pretty well.”

My lips quirked into a small smile. “Still, I’m glad you showed up.”

Just like I had been last night when he’d showed up at the bar.

He gave me a crooked grin, the intensity in his eyes fading into something warmer. “Always.”

For a moment, the weight of the encounter disappeared, replaced by the unspoken tension between us. But before either of us could say more, Holden called out to Zeke, breaking the moment.

I cleared my throat. “We should get going.”

“Yeah,” Zeke replied, but I could feel his gaze linger on me as I turned and walked away to the bus.

Between my unexpected encounter with Jordan, Zeke showing up and defending me, last night’s events at the bar, and my late-night text conversation with Zeke, I was feeling all kinds of strong emotions. Although I had foregone coffee this morning, it was as if I had taken one too many espresso shots.

I boarded the bus and sat in the third row, keeping with the rest of the team staff. The players ended up boarding next, and I pretended to be busy on my phone to avoid making eye contact with a certain right wingman. But as I looked down at my phone, trying not to think about Zeke, I was reminded of our text exchange last night.

I’d been annoyingly excited about seeing that I had a text message from him. Then I’d been recklessly emboldened by the barrier of text and darkness, being way too flirty and honest with him. My lame attempt to pull back and mask my true feelings had been followed by an abrupt end to our conversation, which I’d been both grateful for and disappointed about. Who knew what else I would have said or how far our texting would have gone? As much as I wanted to believe I was in control of my emotions when it came to Zeke, I was pretty sure kissing him last night had said it all.

These last three hours on the bus had seemed excruciatingly long because of how hard it was to not look back at Zeke. We were only halfway to Saint Paul, and I was more than ready to get off this bus. I’d tried reading, listening to music, and texting my sister, but nothing could keep my mind off Zeke, only a few feet away.

I wanted to be sitting by him. I wanted to be talking to him. My body and heart didn’t seem to care that my mind thought I was being ridiculous. None of this was helping me maintain my keep-things-professional-with-Zeke plan.

The more I tried to put boundaries between us, the more I flew right past them.

When I’d seen him sitting in that hotel lobby a few weeks ago, I should have kept walking and gone up to my room. But no, I’d had to go sit by him, start opening up to him about my dad.

When I had made a house call, I should have helped him with his knee and left. But no, I’d had to stay and watch a movie and make dinner with him, chatting about his past relationship.

When the fake relationship should have remained safely in the fake zone with no physical contact necessary, I’d had to go running into his arms for the best kiss of my life.

When he’d texted me a simple thank you message last night, I should have said you’re welcome and good night. But no, I’d had to get all flirty and tell him how I’d liked everything about our night together, the kiss being not just my favorite part but my favorite kiss ever.

There was seriously something wrong with me. I was givingmyselfwhiplash. I could only imagine what Zeke was thinking.

As if he could hear my spiral, my phone buzzed with a text from him.

Zeke

A penny for your thoughts.

I glanced over to see Zeke sitting one row back, kitty-corner from me. He shot me a wink, and I swear I tried not to smile, but my mouth didn’t seem to care because my lips spread into a flattered grin.

He seemed to be in a good mood, or at least in a better mood than he’d been in when we’d ended our conversation last night. Maybe I wasn’t the only one prone to inflicting whiplash.

I turned back to my phone, wondering how to respond since clearly I couldn’t tell him what I had really been thinking about. If I typed back ‘you,’ that would go against everything I was trying to fix between us—to get us back to safer ground. But if my track record was anything to go by, I’d soon be telling him I couldn’t stop thinking about him instead of keeping things platonic.

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