The Wall of Winnipeg and Me

“For that, Van.”

The man I’d seen kind of, sort of, maybe smile a couple of times, had a tentative grin crack across his mouth. The expression on his face completely caught me off guard. For a man who never, ever physically reacted even when he won a game, his smile…

Heaven help me.

It was beautiful. There was no other word to describe it. It was like a double rainbow. Better than a double rainbow.

I felt stunned. Rooted in place forever.

His features didn’t necessarily soften, but the way his entire face seemed to lighten…

I touched my mouth to make sure it was closed and not wide open.

I couldn’t respond. I could only stand there nodding in place with something that was pretty close to a deranged smile making an appearance on my face.

“Holler if you need me. I, uh, have work to do.” Yeah, I tucked my imaginary tail in and ran upstairs.

Good lord. My heart pounded as I sat at the chair behind my desk, and I set my palm over it. What the hell was that? That smile was like a nuclear bomb he had within his reach. I mean, I knew Aiden was attractive, obviously, but when he smiled, there was nothing to prepare you for that weapon of mass destruction.

Hello, I had eyes. Even if I had become mostly desensitized to those muscles on top of carefully sculpted muscles, I knew they were there. I knew his face was handsome despite how unyielding it usually was.

I sucked in a breath and let it out, trying to clear my head. But it wasn’t as easy as it should have been. When I was looking for photographs of male models for an e-book cover, I thought about Aiden one or two times more than necessary.

Good grief, he needed to keep that thing in check.

Chapter Thirteen

A couple of weeks later, after Aiden had completely recovered from his sprain, I was in my room working on a paperback cover for one of my favorite clients when I heard the garage open and close, followed by the beeping of the alarm, and finalized by the loud slap of the door being slammed shut. Lowering the volume on my computer speakers, I sat there a minute.

I didn’t need to look at the culprit to confirm who it was. Aiden wasn’t the slamming-the-door-shut-out-of-anger type of person. He tended to stick to venting his grievances with words or on the field or gym, or more often than not, he went into his room and stayed there doing who knows what. I’d never figured out what he did in there for hours.

That was what alarmed me. It had to be Zac, and Zac was usually too laid back to react to anything like that… unless he had a reason to be really pissed.

I stayed in my room and faintly listened to the angry noises coming from the first floor: the cupboards being forcefully closed, the loud clatter of plates on the counter, and the “Goddammit!” that was shouted twice. It all wafted up the stairs and wrapped around me in my room. But I stayed where I was.

If Zac was angry, he needed space to cool off. At least that was the best way to deal with my sisters when they were pissed.

So I left him alone, despite wanting to know what happened.

Sometime later, stomps echoed their way up the stairs and down the hall.

And that was how I knew something was really wrong. Zac always told me hi. Then his bedroom door closed with a bang just down the hall from my room.

For one brief second, I thought about texting Aiden to ask if he knew what was going on, but if he didn’t text me back, it would just make me mad. So I waited instead.

Zac didn’t come out of his room the rest of the day.

I didn’t hear him in his room either, and that was when I started to worry.

The following afternoon, I made my way downstairs after he still hadn’t come out. I found Aiden in the kitchen, fiddling with the knobs for the stove while he held a pan in one hand. He briefly peeked at me over his shoulder before muttering a “Hello” that seemed almost natural.

“Hi,” I greeted him back, not getting hung up on the ‘H’ word as I tried to decide how to best go about asking him about my main concern: Big Texas.

It must have been apparent I wanted something, because not a few seconds later, Aiden spoke up. “What’s wrong?”

“I think there’s something wrong with Zac.”

He said, “Oh,” so casually I wasn’t anticipating what came out of his mouth next. “The team released him yesterday,” he explained like the news wasn’t the most devastating thing to happen to Zac ever. Hell, it would be the worst thing just about any professional athlete on any team could ever hear. Even I found myself sucking in a breath.

“Why?”

He’d turned to face the stove again, those mountainous shoulders and wide lateral muscles greeting me through the thick, white T-shirt he had on. “He’s been too inconsistent. He hasn’t been listening.” Aiden lifted his shoulders. “I told him it was going to happen.”

I blinked. “You knew?”

“He hasn’t been taking his training seriously enough and it’s noticeable. The other QBs have been playing better.” He made a humming noise as he moved toward the refrigerator. “He’s pissed off, but it’s his fault and he knows it.”

I winced, feeling bad for Zac’s situation but understanding the point Aiden was trying to make, despite how brutal the truth was. Even I had brought up how much time he took off when he should have been working out during the offseason. Hurt for him clung to edges of my soul though. Just a couple months ago, he’d been the one telling me how happy he was that I would be joining the ‘do what you love’ team. Now?