The Captain's Dirty Little Secret

Zac checked his phone for the sixth time in ten minutes.

Still nothing.

He locked the screen and shoved it facedown on the arm of the couch like that would make him less pathetic. It stayed there for maybe twenty seconds before his hand went for it again.

Nothing.

The house smelled like turkey, butter, herbs, and money.

That was the stupidest thought he had all morning, but it was true. Thanksgiving in the Prescott house never smelled like someone cooking because they wanted to feed people. It smelled like polished counters, silver trays, hired hands moving quietly through the kitchen, and his mother walking through the dining room to make sure everything looked the way it should.

The cook had been there since eight. Two more people had come in after noon. One woman handled the table. Another kept disappearing into the kitchen with bowls and trays. His mother still acted exhausted, like she had personally hunted the turkey with a knife between her teeth.

Zac sat in the living room in a sweater he hated, with his knee bouncing and his phone burning a hole through his skull.

Roxie had not answered.

She said she would think about it.

That could mean anything with Roxie. It could mean she was coming. It could mean she was never coming and wanted him to suffer first. It could mean she had typed three different answers, hated all of them, and thrown her phone across the room.

He knew her enough to know all three were possible.

He should have been calm.

He had survived the Regional Semifinal. Briarwick was one game from State. Coach Hayes had called his last drive one of the cleanest of the season. Mason had screamed in his ear until Zac nearly shoved him into a water cooler. The school had gone crazy. People had slapped his back in the hallway for two days like his spine was public property.

He should have been thinking about the Regional Final.

Instead, he was sitting in his parents’ living room waiting for a message from the girl his mother would never approve of.

Smart, Prescott.

Really smart.

He almost laughed.

He knew bringing Roxie here would make his life worse. There was no version where it went smoothly. His father would look at her like he was measuring her worth as a human being. His mother would smile in that thin way that made people feel dirty without raising her voice.

Nathan would watch everything with satisfaction. Mia would probably be curious in a way that made the whole thing worse because Mia never knew when to stop asking questions.

And Roxie would see all of it.

She would see the dining room table that could seat twelve even when they only used five chairs. She would see his mother’s good plates and his father’s military photographs and Nathan’s framed awards that somehow still had better placement than Zac’s football trophies.

A house he hated.

His chest tightened. Zac rubbed both hands over his face.

He had definitely let his dick make the decision.

He knew that.

He had been angry in the lab. Angry at the playoff pressure. Angry at his parents. Angry at her for skipping every honest thing and turning every soft spot into a fight. Then she looked at him like she was done, something in him snapped.

Come home with me to Thanksgiving.

He had said it like a dare because saying it carefully would have sounded too much like begging.

Now he was here, waiting for her, hoping she came and half hoping she saved them both by staying away.

A small body dropped onto the couch beside him.

Zac looked down right as Mia leaned into his side like she had every right to invade his space.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

Zac smiled despite himself and ruffled her hair. "Nothing you need to know."

Mia pushed his hand away and fixed her hair with a glare. Then her eyes flicked toward his pocket.

"Is Roxie coming?"

Zac’s eyes widened a fraction.

Nosy little monster.

Mia’s mouth fell open. "Oh my gosh. She is."

"I don’t know."

"You invited her?"

"Keep your voice down."

Mia’s face lit up with pure horror and delight. "You invited Roxie here? For Thanksgiving?"

"Mia."

She sat back and thought about it for half a second.

Then her smile faded a little. "Mom won’t be happy."

Zac gave her a thin smile. "You’re a very smart girl."

The doorbell rang.

Everything in him stopped.

Mia jumped off the couch and ran toward the front hall.

"They’re here!"

Zac let out the breath caught in his chest.

It was Nathan.

The wrong disaster.

His mother appeared from the dining room at once, smoothing one hand over her hair even though nothing had moved.

"Zac, stand up."

Zac stood because arguing over standing was a waste of energy, and he was already using all of his energy on the phone.

Nathan walked in like he had never left.

That was the thing about Nathan. He never entered a room like a visitor. He entered like the house had been waiting for him to return so it could start breathing again.

He wore a dark coat, clean shoes, and that easy smile people trusted even without knowing the person. Beside him was a girl Zac had seen once in a photo and twice through family group chat updates he never answered.

Holly.

She was pretty. Soft hair, soft sweater, soft smile. The kind of girl his mother would approve of before she opened her mouth.

Nathan’s girlfriend.

Of course Nathan brought a girlfriend home on Thanksgiving.

Typical Nathan.

Zac wins the Regional Semifinal, and Nathan still finds a way to make the room turn.

His mother’s face warmed in a way Zac had almost never seen directed at him. "Nathan."

Nathan hugged her. "Happy Thanksgiving, Mom."

His father came in from the study and shook Nathan’s hand first before pulling him into a brief hug. "Good to have you home."

Zac stood by the couch and watched his father clap Nathan on the shoulder.

Good to have you home.

He wondered if anyone had said good game last Friday without making it sound like the beginning of another lecture.

Nathan turned. "Zac."

Zac forced his face into something decent. "Hey."

Nathan crossed the room and hugged him with one arm, the way older brothers did when they wanted witnesses.

"Playoff run, huh?" Nathan said. "Look at you making noise."

Zac’s jaw tightened. "Regional Final is still ahead."

"Yeah, Dad said. Big stuff."

Big stuff.

The words sounded almost nice.

Almost.

Then Nathan moved aside and gestured to Holly. "Zac, this is Holly. Holly, my little brother."

Holly smiled at him.

Her eyes stayed on his face a second longer than Zac expected.

"So you’re the quarterback," she said.

Zac put his hands in his pockets. "That depends who you ask. My dad prefers future officer."

His father’s eyes cut to him.

Nathan laughed too quickly. "He’s charming when he’s bitter."

Holly’s smile widened. "I like bitter."

Zac blinked once.

Nathan was already turning to Mia, who had come closer to steal attention and inspect Holly’s outfit.

Zac looked at Holly again.

She was still smiling at him.

Something about it made his shoulders tighten.

Then he told himself to stop being ridiculous.

She was Nathan’s girlfriend.

That made the entire thought impossible.

His phone buzzed.

Zac’s heart slammed so hard he almost missed the phone when he grabbed it.

Dylan.

You alive or did your dad kill you before pie?

Zac stared at the message, then closed his eyes for half a second.

He typed one word.

Barely.

Dylan answered immediately.

If she shows up and your mom smiles, run.

Zac locked the phone again.

Across the room, Holly was watching him.

"You waiting for something?" she asked.

It was casual. Light. Maybe polite.

Zac slipped the phone into his pocket. "Team stuff."

Holly’s eyes moved over him like she knew that was a lie and found it amusing.

Before Zac could decide if he hated that, Nathan touched Holly’s lower back and guided her toward the couch. "Come on. Mia wants to interrogate you."

Mia made a face. "I’m being welcoming."

"You’re being Mia," Nathan said.

Their mother laughed softly.

Zac looked at his phone again even though it was in his pocket and he could not see the screen.

Roxie still had not answered.

His father moved beside him.

Zac felt him before he spoke.

"You seem distracted."

Zac looked toward the dining room. "I’m fine."

"You have a Regional Final coming. If you win, State is next. You need to stay focused."

"I am focused."

His father’s gaze dropped briefly to Zac’s pocket. "On the right things?"

Zac’s teeth pressed together.

There it was.

The warning without the name.

No public drama. No girls who make people talk. No risks.

Zac still heard it sometimes.

He wondered if Roxie heard it too when she looked at him.

His father lowered his voice. "Today is family. Keep your head where it belongs."

Zac almost asked where that was supposed to be, since everyone in this house seemed to think his head belonged to them.

Instead, he said, "Yes, sir."

His father studied him for another second, then turned toward Nathan, who was telling Mia some story from base that had their mother smiling.

Zac stayed near the couch, every muscle tight.

He could text Roxie again.

He could say, Are you coming?

He could say, Please come.

He could say, I know I invited you like an asshole, but I meant it.

He typed none of it.

His pride had teeth, and today it had them sunk into his own throat.

His hand gripped his phone, hoping and praying for two different messages.

I’m outside.

I’m not coming.