Page 168 of Make the Play

And I can wait.

I reach for her hand, thread our fingers together.

“You don’t owe me a timeline, Zo. I’m not going anywhere. I just wanna stop pretending you’re not everything to me when you already are.”

Her mouth wobbles with a smile. “You’re making this very hard to resist.”

“Then stop resisting, sweetheart.”

She exhales quietly, then presses her forehead to my chest again and lets out a sleepy little groan.

“We should probably get ready,” she mumbles. “Brunch.”

Right. We’re due at Jake and Charlie’s soon for team brunch. It hits me all at once, how much I want that right now—how much I wantherto have that right now. The noise, the chaos, the safety of being surrounded by people who love her and who’d do anything for her.

I press my lips to the top of her head.

“Yeah, let’s go be with our people.”

She sighs. “Ugh, fine. But only if I don’t have to do my own hair.”

“I’ll wash it for you.”

That earns a real laugh. “You will not.”

“I will. I’ll do it right now. I’ll condition you like a princess.”

“You don’t evenhaveconditioner.”

“I do now,” I say, backing her toward the bathroom. “You left that fancy one with the gold writing. Smells like vanilla and danger.”

She snorts. “Seriously though, you want first or second?”

“There is nofirstorsecond,” I say, tugging gently at the hem of her borrowed t-shirt. “It’s together or nothing.”

She laughs and rolls her eyes when I start the water and test the temperature with the back of my hand, but she lets me anyway.

“After you, sweetheart.”

She steps in first, hissing softly at the heat. I follow a second later, closing the glass door behind us. The steam rises slowly, curling into the quiet like a sigh.

Neither of us say much as she tips her head back under the spray, water streaming over her bare skin. For a minute, I just stand there watching her, committing the sight to memory.

Then I reach for the shampoo, and she cracks one eye open. “What are you doing?”

“Treating you like royalty,” I say simply, squeezing some into my palm. “As promised.”

She huffs a laugh but turns around. I work the shampoo into her hair gently, like she’s fragile, even though I know she’s anything but. My fingers move through the strands with care, massaging at her scalp until she lets out a soft, involuntary sound that makes my chest go tight.

“Good?” I ask, rougher than intended.

She nods slightly in reply. “So good.”

I rinse her hair out under the water, my palm cradling the back of her head like it’s always meant to be there. And maybe it is. Maybe my hands on her, gently caring for her without any premise or expectation, is the closest I’ve ever come to saying the thing I’ve been holding in.

She leans back into me without a word, and I wrap my arms around her under the spray, kiss the pulse point just behind her ear, and close my eyes.

Neither of us says it, but we feel it.

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