I sighed and scratched at the tip of my nose as I stopped at the top of the landing to my apartment that evening.

Because right next to it, leaning against my door, was a man.

A tall, lean man.

His head lolled over from where he had been holding it, facing the blank opposite wall.

I recognized his slow, slight smile before I noticed the familiar clothing of jeans, broken in boots, and very white T-shirt.

“Hey, Peewee,” Zac drawled with about as much enthusiasm as I had for cleaning out my shower drain when it clogged.

Something was wrong. He’d had practice that morning and afternoon. He’d told me the night before via text.

“Hey, Snack Pack,” I said carefully, taking a step forward now that I knew he wasn’t some serial killer creeper. I stopped right in front of him, taking in the bunched muscles of his biceps from how he’d been standing there with his arms crossed before slowly letting them drop to his sides.

There was something definitely wrong. His smile was half pulled up, but it was all off. Plus his eyes didn’t look all that right either. They were dim, and his skin looked tightly stretched across all those sharp, pretty bones of his face.

“What happened?” I asked him, letting the strap of my purse slide off my shoulder and land in my opened palm. I set my opposite hand on his forearm. Please God, tell me they didn’t release him. “Want to talk about it or no?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed, and it tore me up some more.

“Do you want me to trip someone? Need a hug? Want a back scratch on the house?” I offered some more, rubbing my thumb over his tight, muscular forearm.

Those broad shoulders seemed to sag right in front of my eyes, and I wondered what the hell had happened. Things had been fine. They’d been great. He’d seemed normal just last night. Everything about him the last couple of weeks had screamed cautious optimism. He seemed to like his coach and teammates. I’d even asked him if he was fine with not starting, and he’d just slid me that lopsided smile of his and said, “Somebody reminded me I should be thankin’ my lucky stars even if I’m number two, and that’s what I’m doin’, darlin’.”

So yeah, I was goddamn worried now.

“Zac, what happened?” I whispered, instantly reaching up and sliding my arms around his neck. I hugged him. Uninvited, yes, but something wasn’t right.

And he’d tell me to back up if he didn’t want me there.

I stroked my palm up and down along his spine as I looked up into his Disney prince face.

But he didn’t respond, at least not with words. What he did do was exhale. His body loosened and then curled into me, some part of his head coming to rest against the top of mine. One forearm went around the lowest spot on my back, anchoring me in place, right there. Against him.

I held him, and he held me, and I stood there and listened to his deep breaths. If he didn’t want to tell me what was up, that was okay. I didn’t need to know.

It wasn’t like I didn’t keep things from him that my gut believed he had no business hearing. Or more like, he didn’t need to be bothered by comments that had no purpose. Not anymore.

More than anything though, if he really wanted to tell me, he would. He’d told me about signing with Houston before he’d told anybody else. I’d been in the car with him when he’d called his mom and grandpa on the way back to Houston after the night of the party. Part of me still couldn’t believe even that.

We kept on standing there. With his chest inhaling and exhaling in front of mine. With his arm around the back of my neck and what might have been his cheek or his forehead resting against the top of my head. With the tips of our shoes touching. My purse resting on the top of them.

And I kept on moving my palm up and down his back, trying my best to soothe whatever the hell was bothering him.

What could have been half an hour later, he finally lifted his head off mine, and I took that moment to take a small step back, arching my neck upward to take in his features again.

He was already focused down on me, those baby blues stark against his face, his mouth still formed into a shape that wasn’t anywhere near the happy one I was used to.

I didn’t like it.

I reached up and set the tip of my finger on the end of his nose in the longest boop of all time. We didn’t need to talk about it. That was all right with me. “I’m having a crappy day and was going to order some delivery. Want to eat with me?”

Those blue eyes stayed on my face, and I was glad I’d gotten a little more sleep than usual the night before and that I hadn’t been stingy with makeup. Just because I realized we had no chance in hell for that to matter, I still cared. Whatever. I could take pride in my appearance.

He gave me another one of those half smiles that said everything and nothing at the same time.

I tapped my finger on his nose again. “I’ll let you pick what we eat if it’ll cheer you up.”

He didn’t laugh… but he did smile. A small but genuine one. A genuine one with something in its depths that made my little heart ache a bit at whatever was bothering him.

“I could use a chalupa,” he told me. “It’s been that kinda day.”

Chalupa? That was what he wanted?

I was probably going to regret it, but I still said, “Okay. The nearest one is too far for delivery, but I’ll drive.”

He made some kind of noise that almost sounded like a sniff. “It’ll taste better warm.”

I bet it would. “I’m gonna get the shits, so I hope it’ll be worth it.”

He blinked, and at the exact same time, we both burst out freaking laughing.

Zac covered his eyes with his palm as he muttered, “Jesus H. Christ, kiddo.”

He didn’t see me smiling as I poked him in the ribs, but I caught his own mouth beginning to form into one. All right, maybe everything wasn’t totally right in the world, but it was getting there.

Zac’s hand dropped from his face to settle briefly on my shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Need to do somethin’ inside first?”

“Nah, we can go.”

I led the way down the stairs, asking, “Want me to drive after all or do you want to take your fancy-ass car?”

“Whatever you want.”

We could take mine. He seemed too distracted to be a good driver.

Zac didn’t say a word when I steered us toward my car and still said nothing when we got into it and I pulled out of the complex and onto the road. That was when the idea struck me. We glanced at each other when I stopped at a red light, and I wasn’t even a little sneaky when I slipped my phone out of my purse and tapped a few times at the screen. Just as the light turned green, I found what I was looking for and hit the little triangle at the bottom of the screen.

I waited a second.

Two seconds.

The speakers in my car finally picked up, and I still waited.

And my beloved Zac didn’t let me down.

It took two beats of the song to ring through my car before he snorted and the back of his hand nudged at my upper arm.

I grinned at him just as I hit the gas. Lifting my finger, I pointed at him and sang the last two words of the first bar, “…go girls.” The shoulder closest to him moved in time to the beat of the song I’d been forced to listen to like half a million times around him when I’d been younger. Zac snorted again.