I move closer to him, taking his other hand in mine.
“Long story short, I flew out there. I confessed everything to her parents,” he says. “They deserved to know why their sweet, beautiful, intelligent, happy daughter was an emotional wreck.”
“And how did they take it?”
“Not well.” He shakes his head. “They asked me to leave immediately. Forbade me from coming anywhere near their daughter again.”
“Is she okay now?”
“No.” He tucks his chin. “Because of the accident, she suffered oxygen deprivation and was permanently brain damaged. She can’t speak. Can’t walk. All I know is she’s living in some private assisted-care facility in Northern California. I’ve hired private investigators to try and locate her, but they’ve all come up empty handed. This place, wherever it is, is tighter than Fort Knox. I’ll never see her again. I’ll never get to apologize. There’ll never be closure for either of us.”
I climb onto his lap, unable to look into his painful gaze a second longer, and I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing the side of his face.
“I’m so sorry, Zane,” I whisper into his ear.
“You remind me of her so much.” His voice has a slight shake in it. “But I swear, Delilah, that’s not why . . .”
“I know.”
He breathes me in and then exhales, saying nothing.
And I get it now.
The partying. The living in the moment. The rebellion. It was all a giant “fuck you” to the tragically beautiful cards he’d been dealt. On one hand, he had it all. And on the other, he had nothing.
I slide to the spot beside him, keeping his hand in mine.
“The reason I’m telling you all of this,” he says, “is because these last few years, I’ve been a bit of a shithead to the team, to Coach, to anyone who tried to rein me in. And this year, I was told that the owner was thinking of cutting me from the team unless I straightened up. So I was told no booze, no women, no parties – at least none of that in public. The team was already spending a fortune in PR costs to clean up my reputation. And the Cougars are such a new team, they couldn’t afford any more negative publicity, so they gave me an ultimatum.”
“They can just cut you? Don’t you have a contract?”
“That’s how it is unless you’re Tony fucking Romo or something,” he huffs. “Most contracts don’t come with provisions to prevent you from being cut.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair, gorgeous.”
Ain’t that the truth.
Zane reclines, lying back on the blanket, and I curl up into his arm where I’m nice and warm.
“So the reason I couldn’t take you golfing on Sunday,” he says, “is because I’m trying to walk a straight line here. Publicly. At least for the rest of the season. And then I’m done with the Cougars. My contract is up after this year, and I’ll be a free agent. I’m ready for a change of scenery.”
“I understand.”
“As much as I’d love to take you out in public because I think you’re pretty cool to hang with,” he says. “I just can’t. Not yet. We’re so close to football camp starting, and I’ve been told they’re still trying to decide whether to cut me or not. I can’t slip up. Not when I’m this close.”
“So why the flowers and the wine and the private beach?”
Zane shrugs. “It was a respect thing. I wanted you to know that you’re special. You’re not just some fuck buddy. You may not be my girlfriend, but you mean something to me. And I appreciate that you put up with my shit because I know I’m not the easiest son of a bitch to like.”
I sigh, breathing in the faded scent of the aftershave that clings to his skin. I’m going to miss this smell after this summer. If I could bottle it up and take it with me, I would.
“What kind of cologne do you wear?” I ask, as if the intention behind my question isn’t glaringly obvious.
“What?” he chuffs.
“You smell really good. I was just curious. Never mind.” I nuzzle my cheek against his cotton shirt.
His fingers tangle in my hair, and my question goes unanswered. And maybe that’s life’s way of reminding me to live in the moment. I’ll never know the name of his cologne, and I’ll probably never come back to this private beach in this obscure town in the middle of nowhere.
For now, all we have is this moment.
And maybe, for right now, that’s all we need.
Chapter 24
Zane
“Rue’s house sold, by the way.” The moon washes over Delilah’s face from the passenger window as we drive back to Laguna Palms Tuesday night with sand in our shoes and leftover remnants of beach-sex orgasms coursing in our veins.
We made love on the beach.
It wasn’t fucking.
It was so much more.
Gone was any hint of dirty talk. She didn’t beg for it, and I didn’t manhandle her like some kind of sex-starved animal. It was slow and sensual, the kind of sex that means something.
The kind of sex I haven’t had since Mirabelle . . .
“We’ll be gone by the end of July,” she adds.
My stomach clenches. “Well, that kind of blows.”
“Kind of?” she elbows me playfully.
“Guess we’ll just have to make the most of the time we have left,” I say. “I say we make a pact.”