Page 32 of Playing for Keeps in Starr's Fall
As parents, they had to let go of their dream children—she knew that, absolutely—but sometimes it could feel so very hard. Moving to Starr’s Fall had been about letting Ben be who he needed to be, rather than the person she or anyone else thought he should be, but that didn’t mean letting it happen was easy.
Zach, however, was making it easier…
Not that she let herself think that way too often. Still, over the last few weeks she had become unsettlingly used to having Zach around. More nights than not, he stayed for dinner, and while he and Ben spent a good amount of time playing RainQuest, Zach still made sure to chat to her, too. He asked her about the business, but also about her life, and he’d shared some of his. She’d admitted she was coming to enjoy the business side of things, and he confessed how much he liked woodworking. He’d even made Ben a little carving of a djinn, his profile on the game, which Ben kept by the computer.
“I hope,” Zach had told her in a low, laughing voice when she’d walked him downstairs to the door last night, “that you don’t think I game this much in real life.”
She’d raised her eyebrows, lips pursed. “Is this not real life?”
He’d cocked his head, his blue-green gaze sweeping lazily over her. “Maybe it is,” he replied slowly, in a way that made awareness and yearning flare through her. If only, she’d thought suddenly and fiercely, this was real life. Her and Zach…
But she couldn’t let herself think like that, and so she’d kept it more about Ben. “You’ve been a good friend to Ben,” she told him, “and for that I’m very, very thankful. I hope you know that.”
“I do.” He’d hesitated then, and Maggie had tensed, both afraid and hopeful that he was going to say something else. Something about her. Aboutthem. “I hope you feel,” he’d finally said, carefully, “that I’m a good friend to you, as well.”
It had been enough to make her stomach flip and everything inside her tingle. Part of her had longed to take a step toward him, tilt her head up to his, see his eyes flare with the awareness that was zinging through her… But she knew she didn’t possess the courage to do that, and then a sudden suspicion had gripped her that maybe he was friend-zoning her, and considering the scenarios that had been playing through her mind, the thought was fairly horrifying.
“I… do,” she’d finally stammered, and he’d laughed softly.
“Why do you look terrified?” He’d reached up and brushed a tendril of hair away from her face, letting his fingers skim her cheek. Maggie had had to bite her lip to keep from shuddering in response as the tips of his fingers brushed her cheekbone. That didn’t feel like a friend-zone kind of thing, did it? “When did you get that silver streak in your hair?” he’d asked softly.
“A… a few months ago.” When Ben had been admitted to the hospital; it had happened almost overnight. But she wasn’t thinking about that now, not when his fingers were still lingering on her cheek, and she had a frighteningly strong impulse to step closer to him, into the shelter of his arms.
“I like it,” he told her as he let his hand fall away from her face. “It’s unique.”
Maggie had opened her mouth to say it made her look old, thought better of it, and so had just smiled and shaken her head. Zach had stepped back as he’d given her a little wave. “Bye, Maggie. See you tomorrow.”
Stupidly, she’d felt almost crushingly disappointed. What had she been expecting—some heartfelt declaration? Akiss?
Well… basically, yes.
And the fact that it hadn’t happened had to be a good thing, Maggie told herself as she turned off the highway and headed for Cup of Joe, the coffee shop in downtown Hartford that offered barista courses. She felt a flutter of nerves as she thought about walking into a place where she knew no one and trying to learn. She’d been doing a lot of that lately, and it was getting a little easier, but it still felt hard.
Taking a deep breath, Maggie checked her phone—no messages from Ben or Zach, which hopefully was a good thing—and then got out of the car.
* * *
“Going to see Maggie Parker again?”
Jenna swiveled around in her chair in front of her laptop as she raised her eyebrows expectantly.
Zach shrugged on his jacket and then reached for his travel mug of coffee. It was eight o’clock on a dark, frigid morning in late February, when everything was gray sky and slush and no sign of spring. He wasn’t in the mood for another one of Jenna’s piqued innuendoes.
“Ben Parker, actually,” he told her. “Maggie is in Hartford, doing some kind of barista course.”
Jenna folded her arms. “You’ve been spending a lot of time over there.”
Zach knew this was the perfect opportunity to say something pointed about how that was because Maggie actually appreciated his opinion and expertise, unlike his own flesh and blood, but he wasn’t in the mood to annoy his sister or have her annoy him. He felt too optimistic for that.
“Yep,” he said instead, and started hunting for his truck keys.
“Yep?” Jenna repeated. “That’s all you have to say?”
“Yep,” Zach said again, even though he knew it would annoy her. Maybebecauseit would.
Jenna sighed and slumped back in her seat, staring at her computer screen for a few seconds. “And it isn’t because of me?” she asked finally.
Now that was unexpected. Jenna was usually so wound up and defensive that Zach didn’t even bother with the it’s-actually-you vibe, and truth be told, it was probably also him. “If you’re asking if I’m disappointed about how you’ve handled the decision making,” he told her, making sure to keep his voice mild, “then yeah. It is partly that. I have ideas. I would like to see them implemented.”
