Page 13 of Hot Receiver

I chose myself.

“I don’t blame you for hating me.” My lips pull into a tight line.

“I hate myself more,” he grunts. “For letting myself get caught up with you in the first place. Now take me back to my car or whatever the hell is left of it.”

I pull into the road and merge into traffic without saying another word. A few seconds later, a sharp ringtone pierces the tense air.

“Kacey,” Zak snaps.

He pauses for a minute.

“Are you fucking kidding me? How is this my fault?”

More silence.

“Jesus Christ. Fine. I’ll meet you there.” He looks up, his harsh gaze tangling with mine in the rearview mirror. I quickly drag my eyes back to the flow of cars in front of me. “I know exactly where he is right now. In the front seat of his truck, driving me to your office.”

My jaw drops. Who the hell is he even talking to right now?

“We’ll be there soon.” He clicks to end the call and drops the phone onto the seat next to him before letting out a loud groan.

“Why the motherfucking Crusaders?” he mumbles, the sound muffled by the hands scraping down the front of his face. “Why the fuck did you have to pick this goddamn team?”

“Who was that and where am I driving you?”

“Seems like I’ve become the target for homophobic social media outrage because I stood up for my right to be a gay man in Ohio.” He sighs. “That was Marc Burillo, the team’s PR manager. He wants to meet with both of us. Now.”

I sit up straight in the seat. “Why does he want to see me? How am I involved in this?”

Shit, Anna was right. I never should have gone after Zak. I should have stayed far away from that whole scene.

A pang assaults my heart.

Except I couldn’t. It was too dangerous, and he was too stupid to believe he needed backup.

Maybe it was the need to protect him, since I fell so short on that years ago.

And as stupid as it was for him to go up against that mob, I was proud of him for having the courage to stand up for himself, courage I never had.

“Don’t worry,” he growls. “I won’t give away your secret.”

After stopping and quickly updating the address in my GPS, we’re on the way to Marc’s office in the city.

My father’s unanswered phone calls eat at me. I still haven’t had a chance to return them and find out the next shit show he’s starring in back home in West Virginia.

And there’s a good chance I’m about to star in one of my own.

Once we get to Marc’s building, I pull into a parking spot and turn off the ignition. So many unspoken words loop through my mind, tempting my mouth to form them.

But I keep it tightly shut, something I learned how to do a long time ago.

My chest tightens as we head for the elevator. I’ve never been here before, but Zak clearly has. I guess the announcement about him taking over ownership of the team needs a different spin because of what happened tonight.

I just don’t understand what I have to do with all of it.

Marc should be thanking me for getting Zak out of there when I did; otherwise, he might be having a whole different kind of conversation.

But I seriously doubt that’s why he wants to see me.

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