Page 82 of Only in Your Dreams

I might, if he catches wind of whatever’s going on between us.

I clear my throat when Parker sidles up to the counter. “College girls, really, Park? Don’t tell me you go for them that young now.”

Parker gives an overzealous gasp, laying a hand on his chest. “How dare you—she’s a student, Mels. On the tennis team, and I’ve been rehabbing her shoulder. I am the picture of professionalism.” He does a double take when he finds Zac nonchalantly sipping his coffee beside him. Parker’s shoulders stiffen at once. “Oh. I never see you in here.”

I’ve been back a few weeks now, but aside from the painfully awkward car ride back to town when Parker rescued us from camp—which consisted of silence, followed by more silence—I haven’t seen these two interact at all. More than once, I’ve tried to needle Zac into explaining this rift between them. I haven’t found an opening to grill Parker.

Zac grits his jaw at the sound of my brother’s voice. Motions with his coffee cup. “Don’t tend to enjoy my coffee with a side of angry football fans.”

Parker flicks a nonexistent piece of lint off his shirt. “Yet, here you are, having your coffee anyway. What’s the occasion?”

“The legs.”

I fumble the pump I’m using. Douse the front of my shirt in a stream of syrup.

Parker frowns. “The what?”

Without even a glance, Zac pushes a bar rag in my direction. “The eggs. Ran out of them at home. Got hungry, and here I am. Is that okay with you?”

At that, my upbeat, happy twin rolls his eyes. “Why the hell would I care where you eat breakfast?”

“Why, indeed,” Zac mutters.

And they both lapse into what might very well be the most awkward silence of my existence. Back in the day, you couldn’t get these two to shut up. They ribbed each other like brothers, did the same with me whenever I was around. Now, I’d love nothing more than to submerge myself in this tub of syrup just for the sake of escaping the dead air.

Parker eyes the menu board behind me with interest befitting a man who hasn’t had the same coffee order his whole life.

I give a very obviously forced cough. “So, it should be a good game on Friday. Word around the diner is there’s a new wide receiver on the team.”

Parker lifts a brow. “Yeah? Who?”

When Zac’s only response is the irritated pulse at his jaw, I cough again. “Hudson Jones. Freshman. Wide receiver. Joined the team last week.” Both Zac and Parker feed me a funny look. “I spent some time with Killian this morning.”

Parker peers over his shoulder, finding Killian and his mother. “A freshman? Did he come in on a scholarship?”

“Nope,” Zac answers against his coffee cup.

Parker rolls his eyes again. There’s no doubt now that these two are rifting, have been rifting for a while, and I’d love for the floor to open up and shoot me straight to the earth’s burning core. Any minute now. Any minute at all.

“Riveting conversation, as always.” Parker heaves a sigh. “Anyway, Mels, I came here to see you about something. There’s a rumor going around town these days I was curious about.”

“Oh? What about?”

“You,” he says simply. And then he blinks to his left, where Zac carefully ponders the colorful pattern on his to-go cup. “And you.”

“What?” I clear my throat, completely necessarily this time when my voice comes out closer to a squeak. “What are they saying?”

“Something about you popping up at the Huskies stadium now and again. Looking cozy with the coaching staff.”

Oh, fuckitty fuck.

If there’s anything that this awkward exchange between Zac and Parker has shown me, it’s that I was right to keep this thing between us away from my brother. Never mind him denouncing relationships within the friend group just a few days ago. Their mysterious falling out makes this so much worse. Parker and Connor loathed each other, and I never heard the end of it. Barely saw him over the course of my six-years with Connor. My relationship with Parker suffered, and I can’t stomach the thought of rocking the boat with my brother this soon after having him back.

I stare at the ground under my feet. Despite my begging, it stays firmly intact.

I know I’ve been stupid, going to visit Zac at work. Knew it would bite me in the ass, in more ways than one, that I couldn’t seem to make myself call or text him, on account of not being able to see his face that way. His warm, handsome, completely unhelpful face as he takes over Parker’s study of the menu board, seemingly bored to tears by this conversation.

“I didn’t believe it at first,” Parker continues, “and then I noticed something interesting. Any guess what that might be, Mels? No?” He tips his head when I shake my head. “You mind explaining why you’ve been sneaking out of the apartment after midnight every night? Sneaking back in the morning?”

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