Hands Down - Mariana Zapata Page 0,158

old sweatpants.

And maybe… maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible to stay a little longer, at least until I made a real decision that wasn’t weighed down by a million other things going on. And Trev did have a nice kitchen, and the guys weren’t home….

Once the season was over, maybe his feet would get settled again, and he’d be off, going on his trips and living his life like he’d been before. Expectations. I knew what they were.

He tipped his head to the side like he knew what I was pondering. “Bibi?”

I knew what I was going to say before the words found their way into much more than my heart.

“I can get more people to do videos for you at Trevor’s,” Zac kept going. “But even if you don’t wanna stay, I was still gonna offer.” He slayed me with another smile as he lifted his shopping bag. “Got you a housewarmin’ present though. Whatcha think about that?”

And there, right there, lay the biggest problem I had with Zac.

That he was terrific.

He was a good grandson, son, best friend, and regular friend.

He was a great person.

And my poor little defenseless heart had carved out this niche that was just his size over the years.

I loved this fool. So, so much.

And in that moment, I decided it wouldn’t hurt to stick around a little longer. Zac had thought this option through for me, and he was here.

It took everything in me not to clear my throat as I stared at where he stood, his two teammates in the background, and asked, “What’s in there?”

“Check it out.”

I took the bag and opened it. It looked like a shirt or something folded.

“Take it out,” he coaxed.

I peeked at him and pulled out the gift, knowing almost instantly it was an apron. I shook it out and couldn’t help but grin and shake my head. It was yellow, had images of spices on it, and said, “DROPPIN’ A NEW RECIPE ON YOUR ASS.” I looked at Zac and said, “Thank you. I love it. Blue Q aprons are my favorite.”

He winked at me.

This terrific, amazing man. Well, there was only one answer I could give him. So I did. “Okay. You’re right. As long as Trevor is fine with it.”

“He is.”

“Then okay.” I smiled at Zac and mouthed “Thank you” again.

He replied out loud, that lopsided-forever grin still on his face. “You’re welcome, darlin’.”

It took four hours to pack up my things.

Four hours of the guys asking about a dozen questions over just my cast iron cookware—is it supposed to be this heavy?—and then another thirty minutes with me making them something to eat so I could “clean out” my fridge. It was basically just omelets, cheese, and some leftover veggies I had in the bin, but no one complained. I caught CJ licking his fingertips.

Zac filled my suitcases in a way that was so organized it kind of surprised the shit out of me at how efficient he was. Then again, he’d used a suitcase more than I ever had or more than likely would, so he had the experience. With only one good arm, I was pretty thankful all three of them had helped. The only thing I had really done was pack my nightstand, underwear and bra drawer, tearing up just a little at the fact I was moving out of my apartment. I wasn’t that heartbroken over it, but it was still sad to know I wasn’t going to be staying here any longer. This place had been a haven for me after everything that happened with my ex. But I had the future to look forward to.

Now I just had to get my channel back. I hadn’t been about to cry over that in front of them.

“Everything fit except for your TV,” Zac said as he shut the back of CJ’s Jeep the moment we were done unloading the last of my things at Trevor’s.

“I’ll ask CJ if he wants to get up early and pick it up before practice,” he offered, setting his hands on my shoulders and lightly kneading them as we stood in the driveway of Trevor’s house.

“You don’t have to do that. I’m sure if I ask my neighbors, they’ll help me carry it down and put it into my car. Then maybe one of you can help me put it in the garage or somewhere.” I had decided I was going to call around first thing tomorrow to donate my couch and bed.

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