Hands Down - Mariana Zapata Page 0,8

on looking at me, blankly but politely.

And….

My heart sank. I didn’t mean for it to. I hadn’t thought it could or would. I didn’t want it to, but it sank. To my stomach at least. Probably all the way to my toes though. Because he’d been one of the most important people in my life for fourteen years, and he didn’t—

It didn’t matter.

I was here for a reason, and regardless of whether he remembered me or not, that didn’t change anything. He didn’t remember me, but I remembered him.

I had never forgotten Zac. Unlike him.

My toes curled inside my sneakers, and I forced the smile onto my face through sheer will, burying the disappointment deep as I went for it…. Then burying it even deeper. In and out. Let’s do this. “Can I talk to you in private?”

One of his cheeks hitched up a little higher before the man who had been to my birthday parties until he’d left for college at eighteen said, “Aww, sugar, we can talk right here, can’t we?”

He was still saying sugar. Of course he was.

My toes curled a little more in my sneakers as I clung to that “sugar” and reminded myself again that I wasn’t being annoying or an inconvenience right then. I was here for a reason. An important one.

“I think it’d be better if we talked in private,” I tried to explain as part of my brain tried to accept that he either didn’t remember me or didn’t care if he did. I tried to tell myself that it didn’t matter what the case was. But I was going to go with option A because option B hurt just a little too much, even though it shouldn’t have. “Zac, it’s me. Bianca Brannen.” I tried again, just in case. “Your mom’s been trying to call you….” I trailed off, hoping he’d get it. Hoping he wouldn’t force me to accept that he knew who I was and just didn’t care, even if my brain was aware he hadn’t felt that way in a while.

He got something though, because his next blink was slow. His gaze sharpened suddenly. His forehead furrowed.

He was gorgeous.

He sat up straight and stared at me with those light blue eyes. For so long, I’d thought they were the kindest eyes in the world, and that was saying something because I knew a lot of good people. But none of them had Zac’s eyes, and I had no reason to believe he wasn’t that same person still, regardless of him dropping me like a bad habit. Boogie wouldn’t still be friends with him if he’d changed too much, I knew that. Mamá Lupe used to call him mi cielo for a reason. My sky. Because she saw the same things in him—that innate goodness. She had loved him as much as she’d loved her biological grandkids.

So I told myself two things.

One: I wouldn’t be sad if he didn’t remember me.

Two: I wouldn’t be sad if he didn’t want me around. I had popped out of nowhere, and I was asking for his time when he was busy. It wasn’t like he was being mean or rude.

And you couldn’t fake those eyes.

I swallowed and went up to the balls of my feet again like it would really make me taller. The words felt thick in my throat. I am here for a reason. “I’m not trying to bother you. Boogie asked me to come. He’s been calling you too and—”

This beautiful man who had been featured naked on the cover of a magazine a couple years back got to his booted feet in about half a second. His mouth suddenly dropped open as those blue, blue eyes moved all over my face fast, fast, fast, and I could barely hear him as he gasped, literally gasped, “Wait. Bianca?”

Oh.

Chapter Three

I couldn’t actually remember meeting Zac. I couldn’t remember meeting Mamá Lupe or Boogie for the first time either. My most blurry, distorted memories all included them though, like they had been around forever. Like life before them hadn’t been memorable enough.

In my head and in my heart, they had always been around. From the beginning. Like my arms and my eyes, they were just… there.

I knew that I’d met them when I was three, when my parents moved to Liberty Hill with fifteen-year-old Connie and me, their oopsie, their surprise baby late in life. Somewhere along the way, for all I knew the same day we’d gotten to Mamá Lupe’s

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