Chapter 23: Fair Catch: Chapter 22

“Don’t be such a party pooper,” Gavin bellowed as he wheeled past me dressed as a sports car — with a girl on his lap wearing a racing helmet and holding a plastic detached steering wheel.

If my memory served me right, it was the same girl we ran into at the museum last weekend, and I laughed as he did a wheelie and she clung onto him tighter, squealing and looking at him like he was the center of her universe.

“I’m not a pooper,” I argued, holding up my plastic red cup of booze as proof.

“Mm-hmm. You always get sad on our birthday,” he pointed out. “I thought you’d have grown out of it by now.”

“I’m not sad. And you’re being rude to your date,” I said, smiling at the girl still wrapped around him. “I’m Riley, by the way.”

“Jen,” she said, offering me a wave with flushed cheeks. “Nice to meet you.”

“Let me know if my brother goes past the funny kind of annoying into the kind and I’ll help you out.”

She chuckled, looking down at Gavin, who was smiling up at her like they had a million secrets between them. “Oh, I think we’re past that part. Lucky for him, he’s just charming enough for me to overlook it.”

Gavin waggled his brows at me, and I stood up from my chair long enough to grab his handles and push him off toward the make-shift dance floor in the middle of the house party. “Go, before I gag on how cute you two are.”

He obliged me, but looked back over his shoulder with a pointed look, silently telling me to have fun . I forced a cheesy grin back before I settled into my chair again, content to people watch from the corner.

Some of the older guys on the team had a house off campus that had been termed . They housed parties here nearly every night they could get away with it — meaning nights where we didn’t have to report for class or practice before ten the next morning. The whole place was permanently sticky from beer and sweat and who knew what else, but I did kind of admire that they had so much space, so much room to decorate.

Not that they did.

I was sipping on my beer and looking around at the living room, daydreaming about what I’d do if this house was mine when Zeke leaned up against the wall next to me. He kept his eyes on the party, laughing a little when Clay and Leo did some sort of handshake before jumping in unison onto a folding table, and everyone cheered as it collapsed in on them, cups full of beer going flying in the process.

“I’m thinking of calling it a night,” Zeke said to me and yet to no one in particular as he took a sip from his cup with his eyes still focused ahead. “You?”

“Oh, God, ,” I said, standing a bit too excitedly. “These fishnets have climbed up into a place they very much do belong.”

He smiled, but still didn’t look directly at me as he nodded toward the back door. “I’ll call an Uber. Come outside in five.”

The way he managed to ignore me while talking straight to me was a feat, one I’d asked him to do when we’d made this whole arrangement. Usually, I was thankful for it, by it even — that he could fuck me against our kitchen counter one moment and pretend like I was just another teammate the next.

But tonight, it was just a reminder of what we were, and what we , and how that line would always be there — dark and permanent and binding.

It wasn’t a long ride from The Snake Pit back to the athletic residence hall, and luckily, all the dorms were empty when we returned, the rest of the team not even close to calling it a night. It wasn’t even eleven yet, but I let out a long, body-quaking yawn as Zeke unlocked our front door.

He opened it for me first, and I kicked my shoes off as soon as we were inside, groaning at how it felt to stretch my toes again. Zeke chuckled, grabbing my shoulders from behind and planting a kiss on top of my head.

Another shift in persona. From teammate to…

, exactly?

“Why don’t you go change into your sweats and I’ll put on a movie.”

“I really am tired,” I confessed, twisting in his arms. “I might actually call it a night soon.”

“Okay,” he said. “But you have to let me give you your gift first.”

His eyes flashed with promise, and my body came to life under that gaze like I suddenly had all the energy in the world.

“Sweats,” he ordered again, spinning me and gently walking me toward my bedroom door. He smacked my ass for good measure before disappearing into his room, and I smiled, changing out of my costume and taking all the makeup off my face before I made my way to the living room.

Zeke was already there on the old couch, all the lights off save for the lamp beside him and the glow from the television. I didn’t even pay attention to what was on it before I sat down next to him, and he pulled me under his arm, wrapping me up in all his heat.

I shivered, burrowing into him more. “It was too damn cold to be in fishnets,” I said.

“I don’t know how you did that. I was in a NASCAR suit and still freezing my balls off.”

“Yeah, but you somehow managed to make that Wonder Bread suit look hot, Ricky Bobby. I would have looked like a of Wonder Bread in it.”

“I still would have wanted to strip you, even if you wore a burlap sack.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes as I shifted in his arms a bit. “So, what’s my gift?”

“Patience, Mighty Mouse,” he teased, but then something more serious washed over him, his brows folding together as he sat up straighter and pulled me to face him. “I… before that, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

My heart stammered, color draining from my face.

Nerves shook Zeke’s hands as he held mine, but he pulled one away, running it back over his hair. “This isn’t going to be easy for you to hear, Riley. It’s not easy for me, either.”

I swallowed, closing my eyes and bracing for the impact. My heart beat so loud in my ears I could barely hear him over it, barely register anything other than my every want and need to flee and run away from what he was about to say.

“I want to tell you about that night.”

I frowned, peeling one eye open and then the other to find Zeke looking back at me with worried eyes. “About what night?”

He just held my hand in his and waited until I realized what he meant.

night.

The night of the accident.

“Oh…” A new kind of panic struck me, and I shook my head. “Zeke, we don’t have to—”

“

have to,” he said. “We’ve never talked about it. Ever. Overnight, everything changed and I… I want you to know what happened. Please.”

I couldn’t argue with his plea, even though everything inside my burning chest wanted to tear away from him and this conversation. There was a reason I’d avoided it, avoided for so long.

There would never be a time or place where I could think about that night, let alone talk about it, without being in pain.

I managed a slight nod, and Zeke let out a breath before he told me what happened.

“I can still remember the moment before everything went south that night,” he started, staring at where his hand held mine. “I remember Gavin doing a keg stand, and he kicked me on the way down because he lost his balance. He laughed so hard at my fat lip that I damn near clocked his ass, but it pretty funny, so I let him get away with it.”

His smile was distant as he remembered the night, as I let him take me back, too. I’d remember everything about that night for the rest of my life — how I’d decided to stay in instead of going to the party with them. I’d wanted to re-arrange my room, to hang the prints I’d just had custom framed after saving all fall to do it.

My stomach dropped just like it always did when I wondered how things would have been different if I would have gone with them, if I would have been driving that night instead.

“I was our DD,” Zeke said, snapping me back to the present. “We’d agreed on that before we even left your house. And I hadn’t even had drink up until that point at the party. But then… Kaylee walked in.”

I nearly gasped. “Kaylee… as in Kaylee?”

I remembered all too well the girl Gavin had been obsessed with most of his sophomore year. I wasn’t one to ever hate on a girl I didn’t know well, because I knew she probably had her reasons for behaving the way she did, but she drove me nuts when it came to how she treated Gavin.

“The very one.” He shook his head. “She was ignoring him for some reason at the party, probably playing a game like she always did. It started eating at him, and he started pouring shots. For both of us.”

I swallowed, feeling how his hands were clammy around mine.

“At that point, I realized he needed his best friend more than a designated driver. I decided we’d get an Uber when the time came, and I did what I thought he needed me to do.

“But the more drunk he got, the worse it got. Him and Kaylee fought —

. And then she added salt to the wound by making out with Omar Maben.”

“Wait, she made out with ?” I made a face. “Gavin Omar. They fought all the time. And he gave me so much shit when I joined the team.”

“Exactly. So, as you can imagine, Gav just wanted out of there. He wanted to leave. He…”

Zeke stopped, his jaw tense as he rubbed a hand over it.

“I tried getting us an Uber, but he didn’t want to wait. He was so fucked up over all of it. He was shaking, pacing. He just needed out of there.” Zeke was quiet for a long moment. “So he grabbed my keys.”

Ice ran the length of my veins at his words.

“He insisted he was fine,” Zeke kept on. “But we didn’t get far before he hit a curb and proved otherwise. I screamed at him, told him he was being an idiot and made him pull over.” He rolled his lips together, shaking his head. “But he was so messed up, Riley. He was so upset over everything and he just wanted to get home. I’d only had a couple of those shots he poured. I just figured…”

He couldn’t finish the sentence, but I knew what happened without him having to say it.

Zeke figured he was fine to drive.

My heart squeezed, tears flooding my eyes at the memory of my brother in that hospital bed, of the wounds stitched up but still swollen and bruised and bloody.

Zeke finally looked at me. “I lied and told him I was fine.”

I closed my eyes at the confession, setting two silent tears free to run hot down my cheeks.

For a long time, Zeke just held my hand, watched me cry, waited. For what, I didn’t know. I didn’t know what to say.

“You had every right to hate me, Riley. To blame me. I know there’s part of you that still does.”

“No,” I tried, shaking my head, but Zeke squeezed my hand like he knew that was a lie.

“It’s okay. I blame myself, too. I should have said no. I should have insisted we get a driver. I was young, so fucking young and so fucking . I couldn’t see past what felt like the most important thing in the world at that moment — which was that my best friend was heartbroken and needed me to help him out of the situation.”

He rolled his lips together, shaking his head as he stared absentmindedly at the television.

“I regret that night. Every second I’m awake, I regret it. I’ll never forget how my decisions have consequences.” His eyes found mine. “But I’m trying to forgive myself. And… I’m asking you to forgive me, too.”

Another silent tear slipped free at his request, and he thumbed it away, holding that hand on my face.

“You don’t have to do it right now. Tonight. Or tomorrow. Or next week. Just… it’s been three years, and I wanted you to know the truth. I wanted you to understand what happened. Not so you would excuse me, but so maybe, you could find peace in this if nothing else…” He ducked his head until I looked him in the eyes. “I would never, intentionally hurt your brother, Riley. And I would never intentionally hurt .”

I leaned into his touch, nodding as more tears slipped free.

It was too heavy for me to swallow, too thick to digest. All this time I thought he’d driven drunk because he was being stupid, because he didn’t want to leave his car at the party or some other ridiculous reason.

And in reality, he’d done it to save my brother from himself.

The sick irony in what happened after that decision made me want to vomit.

“I just wanted you to know that,” Zeke finished, and then his touch was gone, and he reached behind him for a haphazardly wrapped cylinder.

When he handed it to me, I laughed, swiping at what tears were left on my face before I picked at the pink paper. “You’re terrible at wrapping presents.”

“It’s what’s inside that counts.”

I chuckled, peeling the paper back to reveal a slender jar with…

Stars.

Not golden confetti or white glow-in-the-dark plastic, but bright and beautiful paper folded into puffy little stars.

“Origami?” I asked, arching a brow.

“Take one out.”

I did, holding it in my hands with a smile as I inspected it. And the more I did, the more the art came into focus. “Wait,” I said, tilting it between my fingertips. “This is by Gustav Klimt.”

Zeke smiled. “Open it.”

“Open it?”

He only nodded at my confusion, watching as I turned the star this way and that before I found a small sliver of where the fold began and ended. I carefully peeled it open, revealing the small painting, creased from the origami.

“It’s beautiful,” I remarked, remembering the first time I’d seen that painting in a textbook, how it had resonated with me even then.

“Now, flip it over.”

I did as he said, and the back of the small print was completely black, save for a small quote written in white script in the middle.

“

,” I read. “

” I chuckled then, smoothing my thumb over the text. “Eduardo Galeano.”

“Each star is a famous painting,” Zeke explained, pulling another one out of the jar. He held it up between his forefinger and thumb. “And inside it, a quote or poem to match. On days when practice kills you, or class overwhelms you, or things just start to pile up and you feel disconnected from who you are at the core…” He shrugged, putting the star back in the jar. “You can open a little burst of art to remind you.”

My vision blurred again as I re-read the quote, carefully folding the painting back up — though I couldn’t quite get the star shape. I placed it inside the jar, twisted on the lid, and set it aside before crawling into Zeke’s lap.

“That is, by far, the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever received,” I said, laughing as a couple more tears slid down my cheeks and Zeke wiped them away. “And I am at you for making me cry this much.”

“It’s your birthday,” he whispered, his hand sliding past my cheek and back to tuck my hair behind my ear. “Cry if you want to.”

I shook my head, an unstoppable smile winding on my lips before I lowered them to his.

“I can think of other things I’d much rather do,” I whispered.

He caught my next kiss with a deep inhale and a groan, his hands weaving around my hips as mine threaded into his hair. I bucked my hips, reveling in the feel of him already hardening beneath me, of his bulge rubbing against my core.

I waited for that moment to strike, for when we’d both become animalistic, growling and tearing at clothing until we were both nude. I waited for him to bite my lip and bruise my hips, the way I’d come to love and crave.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t rush me, didn’t do anything other than my movements with his hands holding my hips in a steady rocking rhythm. His kiss was leisurely and deep, his lips soft and tender, tongue sweet and unhurried where it teased mine.

And that softness…

It unraveled me.

I felt every knot in my throat release, every tense muscle relax, every anxious thought evaporate like steam into the air between us. I melted into him, melding my body to his, and I felt every new beat of his heart like it was my own.

It was a dream, how those slow caresses turned into a deliberate shedding of our clothes. His hands slid up my hips and over my rib cage, taking my shirt with them before it was peeled overhead and dropped somewhere behind me. I tugged at his long sleeve next, and he broke our kiss only long enough to dispose of it.

He kissed along the arc of my throat, hands massaging my breasts in steady circles, my nipples pebbling under the touch. I gasped into his next kiss, holding onto him tightly as he stood us both up in one fluid movement.

His sweats, then mine. His briefs, then my panties. And then I wore only his hands as they pulled me into him, guiding us back down, my legs straddling him on the couch.

I shivered at the heat of him slicking between my legs, at how he groaned at the contact, at the way it felt when he flexed his hips and felt my desire coat him from base to tip. But still, he kept that torturous pace, taking his time to kiss and lick and touch every centimeter of my body until I was quivering and begging him to fill me.

He tried to lift me, and I knew what he wanted, knew he would leave me cold on that couch to find a condom. But I held the back of the couch, held him there, kissing him hard and long as I rolled my hips to feel him slick between my labia again.

“I do forgive you,” I whispered, and that stilled him, too — his hands holding my waist steady as he pulled back to look me in the eyes. “I forgive you. I believe you.” I rolled against him again, making his eyelids flutter. “And I trust you.”

He swallowed. “Riley…”

“I want to feel it, even if it’s just once,” I said, those words a kiss and a plea against his lips. “I want to know what it’s like to have you inside me with nothing between us.”

His next breath was fiery and short, his forehead dropping to mine.

“We both know this won’t last forever.” I swallowed, fighting back the emotion that truth lurched to life inside me as Zeke frowned like the words killed him, too. “So just… let me feel you right now.”

A deep, passionate kiss was my answer, and one arm wrapped around the small of my back while he reached between us and positioned himself at my entrance. His crown dipped inside me, making us both hiss and still as I braced my hands on his shoulders and his found the crease of my hips and thighs.

Slowly, with our eyes locked on each other, I lowered.

I took him inside me one marginal fraction of an inch at a time, feeling his hot length sear me every second of the way. When I thought he was all the way in, I lifted, sinking my hips back down again only to find even more depth.

Zeke’s lips hovered over mine before he bit back a curse and let his head fall back, peeling his eyes open to watch me repeat the motion. Those eyes were heavy and low, and when they crawled up the length of my body to meet my gaze, I tightened around him, just that look sending me closer to the edge.

“You feel…” He helped me move, another short, hot breath expelling from his lips. “Fucking , Riley.”

I could only moan my agreement, could only dig my nails into his flesh as I found a slow, steady rhythm, using my thigh muscles to lift me before he’d guide me down to take him all in again.

Up and down, forward and back, a rocking motion that had my clit catching the most subtle friction against his pelvis every time I lowered. I leaned forward even more, wanting a better connection, and Zeke bit his lip before running his tongue around my nipple now square in his face.

Hot electricity licked along my spine with him, jolting between my legs and making my walls squeeze tight around Zeke without me having any control. He groaned at how it felt, at how I rode him more intensely, nails scratching over his chest as I pushed back so I could watch him as I did.

My pace quickened, hips rolling and back arching and each breath sparking out of me like smoke. I was so close, right on the edge, when he flexed his hips and met my thrust with his own.

Lightning.

He hit something so deep inside me that I saw .

I cried out his name, holding on for dear life as he flexed again and again, holding my hips steady as he worked. I couldn’t rock my own anymore. I couldn’t move . I just succumbed to the pleasure igniting in my toes, my ears, until it spread like fire through every part of me and met in the middle.

I exploded.

Wave after wave of my orgasm pulsed through me. I couldn’t contain how loud I moaned, how wild my movements became as I writhed against the climax. And I’d barely finished my own before Zeke was ripping me up off him, reaching around me to finish the job with his hand so he didn’t spill inside me. I felt his hot release against my ass, the back of my thighs, and I kissed him hard while he worked out the last of it.

When he went lax, I did, too, collapsing on his chest as he wrapped his clean hand around me and held the other out and away.

I pulled back, peeking over my shoulder to survey the mess he’d made on my skin.

I blushed at how I loved it.

“Speaking of art…” I teased, arching a brow at him as I turned to face him again.

He smirked. “Happy birthday.”

We both laughed at that, and then I was swept into his arms and carried to the shower for cleanup.

And a blissful round two.