Chapter Four

· zach ·

Thanksgiving Day - Present

I arrived at the place known as my childhood home. The warmth and familiarity soothed me as I opened the door and stacked my jacket above the others on the hall coat tree. Small flurries had started again, and it would only grow stronger by the evening. I had a sense that we’d all be spending the night. It was a typical occurrence to do so on holidays. I strode to the living room to find Evan and Grace watching the football game. His hand entwined with hers seemed effortless. Evident peace radiated from him. I was certain he’d found his girl, and I was happy for him. I wasn’t sure I’d ever have that in my life, nor was I certain I wanted it.

James, Katie’s husband, sat in the recliner, reading something on his phone. He was a dentist and not much for sports, unlike his six-year-old son, Jonah, who was already spouting out facts about players to his Uncle Evan.

“I’m here, but nobody get up or anything,” I said.

Jonah sharply turned, ran toward me, and leapt into my arms. “Uncle Zach!” I twirled him around as he screamed.

“You been good, big guy?” I couldn’t help my affection for the kid. He answered through giggles as I tickled him. I kissed his forehead and set him down, and he sat back in front of the TV.

“Everything all right with yesterday’s mishap?” Evan asked as I greeted him and Grace.

“Did as much as I could, bro.” I smiled at Grace, who seemed more uncomfortable about the limelight and repercussions than Evan. “It’s not bad, Grace. Tabloids don’t know your name yet.”

“Hey, Zach. I thought I heard your voice.” Katie smiled, her expression heartfelt as she entered from the kitchen. I gave her a hug, and we got caught up on James and Jonah. She still had her hair cut short and was the spitting image of Rebecca.

I looked for Hilary but wouldn’t ask where she was. After storming out on her, I had no clue what to expect. Women usually slapped me, called me names, or threw something at my face after I had left them without so much as asking for a phone number. I had a tendency to forget their names, too. Dealing with Hilary was a different scenario. “Mom’s in the kitchen?”

Katie let out a sigh, plopping onto the couch near Evan. “Yep. She and Hilary started a debate on the best way to mash potatoes.”

“That’s easy. Use a handheld mixer.” Evan shrugged.

A gasp slipped through Grace’s lips. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

As the debate began in the living room, I moved to the kitchen where the discussion commenced. I could hear Hilary’s velvety voice as I approached the bar and leaned against it, watching mother and daughter hover over the stove. If I’d thought it was difficult to look at her that morning, it was worse now. She made me so fucking nervous. I had no idea how she’d respond, how we’d behave. I stayed still, observing.

“Using a hand mixer makes them gluey, Mom. The starches get released, and it overworks the potatoes.” She dove at the pot before her with a handheld potato masher. “Remind me to get you a food mill for Christmas.”

Rebecca’s golden laugh echoed through the large space. “Honey, I don’t care about gloppy mashed potatoes. I’m sure nobody else does either, as long as they taste good.”

The stick of butter plopped into the pot from Rebecca’s hands, and Hilary groaned. “Mom, you’re supposed to heat the butter and cream together and then mix it,” she said, keeping her voice under control. I could always tell when she wanted to argue but held back. It happened on many occasions between mother and daughter.

“You didn’t care when you were a child. I’m not going to be all fancy like your blog today, Hilary.”

“So, you actually do read it?”

“I read everything, sweetheart.” Rebecca turned toward the sink and spotted me. She laughed, her megawatt smile sweet as ever. “Zachary! How long have you been standing there?”

Hilary’s head whipped toward me so fast, I was shocked she didn’t get whiplash. Her bourbon eyes were wide as she studied me. If she was livid, she didn’t show it. I returned Rebecca’s smile and met her halfway, embracing her tightly. If there was one thing I could always count on, it was how much love emanated from the woman who raised us. “Long enough to realize that mashing potatoes is serious business.”

Her hands cupped my jaw as she gazed at me with her dark blue eyes. “Please tell Hilary she’s being unreasonable.” Her kiss landed on my cheek sweetly, and then she moved toward the sink where she washed a bowl of green beans.

“Hilary, you’re being unreasonable.” I stood beside her, glanced at the pot of potatoes, then up to her. Pink rushed to her cheeks as she forced a hint of a smile. My heart tightened in my chest, memories of the night before so clear in my mind. That shy blush was present when her body had come around my dick last night. Also, ever present, was the guilt weighing heavily on me. I was a bastard. I mentally shook my head and pushed aside my sinful thoughts.

Hilary held a spoon to my lips. “Taste.”

Fuck. All I could imagine now was how she tasted, how soft her skin felt, and…did I mention how beautiful she was when she came? Well, I’d say it over and over again.

“Needs more salt.”

She rolled her eyes and tried them. “They’re perfect. You like way too much salt on your food anyway.”

“Well, it’s lacking something.” I snatched the spoon from her and tried them again. “I think they’re a bit…gluey.”

Her eyes squinted, and her hip made contact with my thigh as she pushed me aside. “Get out of here, loser.”

We laughed as I moved to the fridge and reached for a beer. I twisted off the bottle cap and tossed it into the sink.

“Zachary, the sink is not the trash,” Rebecca admonished while moving the green beans to the stove.

“Yeah, Zachary, don’t be such a slob,” Hilary teased as she transferred the potatoes to a glass serving dish.

“I’m going upstairs to change, kids. Hilary, look after the green beans.” Rebecca removed her apron and tossed it onto the counter. “Zach, clean up after yourself, please.”

I threw the cap away and leaned on the counter, watching Hilary move about the kitchen. Growing up, she had been awkward, gawky, and taller than other girls. Being that she hung out with Evan and me, she gravitated toward video games, sports, and movies. It wasn’t until her early high school years that she had developed, only to hide behind her tomboy ways. Volleyball, softball, and basketball took up most of her time. Then something shifted in college, and she began taking on other interests. Friends, shopping, boys, while keeping grounded in the things she saw ahead for the future—that had become her norm. She was a girl with vision, she was smart as hell, and to top it off, she was undeniably attractive.

She gracefully walked to the sink, washed her hands, and wiped them as I stood nearby, gawking. My beer was midway to my mouth, but I couldn’t get myself to drink it because my eyes were too damn busy drinking her in.

A pang of regret hit. Telling her we could never have sex again had been the right thing to do, but screw the right thing. I wanted her again. Badly. Her eyes met mine, and her breath stopped. Her gaze lingered on my lips. She wanted me again, too. A punch-in-the-gut sensation told me I was a douchebag. I needed to focus on what was best for all of us, not just on my selfish desires.

“You all right?” I asked, setting my beer aside.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She paused. “I wish you hadn’t rushed out this morning.”

Fuck, she was going right for it, and I’d have to disappoint her again. “Hilary, what happened…that was just a bad idea. We were drunk and…”

She chuckled softly and stepped closer to me. “You and I both know we can hold our liquor.”

That was true. “Fine. But…if Evan, if anyone finds out what happened, it could be a shit show.”

A slight sexy grin remained painted on her face as her hands reached out to rest on my chest. My heart pounded fiercely, ready to break through my ribcage. The aroma of her hair—honeysuckle and jasmine—enveloped me. “Nobody will find out.”

“I’m not looking for a commitment, Hilary.” Another excuse to keep her away. I had to stay away.

Her expression fell. “Damn, and I just bought my wedding dress.”

A rumble released from me, and I grasped reality—the way she seemed to have a firm grip on it. “God, you’re such a smart-ass, kid.”

She shrugged. “Nothing new there.” She studied me as I tried to find the words that were a lost cause. “Look, Zach, it was just sex. Nothing more. A release from a stressful day. It was great, and I’d like more, but next time, talk to me before you freak out over the whole situation, all right?”

“There won’t be a next time, sweetheart,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I clasped her hands, letting the touch sear into my memory as I pulled her palms off my chest and released her. Backing away was excruciating, but our eyes stayed connected, an unspoken tension gripping us and holding us in place.

“What are you two arguing about this time?” Evan entered the kitchen and cut between us to wash his hands.

Our trance broke, and I yanked my beer off the counter, gulping down as much as I could to avoid an answer. I prayed to God above that Evan hadn’t overheard or seen anything.

“Whether The Sound of Music or Singin’ in the Rain is the best musical of all time,” Hilary said.

“Easy. West Side Story,” Evan answered and looked at us as if we were crazy. He leaned over Hilary’s shoulder, reached for the mashed potatoes, and scooped a fingerful to his mouth.

“Don’t lie,” I countered. “We all know you love Newsies.”

“Christian Bale killed it,” Evan defended. “These potatoes are damn perfect, Hil.”

“I know,” Hilary replied confidently. They bantered in their distinctive sibling way as I leaned back to get my heart in check. Hilary’s affect on me was stronger than any woman in the past. I’d just been given a dose of my own medicine. The night before obviously meant more to me than it did to her. She had treated me the way I had treated every girl before her. Like I was expendable.