Book #3 in the Medley Series
ZEKE MITCHELL:
With the World Championship in swimming approaching and our medley team in better condition than ever, nothing can stop us.
Expect, as the season starts, an old injury rears its ugly head again, potential...
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By the time we leave Lake Magdalene, I think Zeke has been more at my parents' house than his own. He's been stopping by after breakfast most days and staying until nightfall.
My mother plies him with food and fusses over him like he's a neglected child and not a full-grown man. I think he's enjoying it.
He doesn't offer to stay the night again, and I don't ask.
Our flight home is the day before New Year's, and Trent drives us to the airport.
His wife, Lauren, and their daughter, Ruby, joined us at home. Before this, I'd only seen my four-year-old niece in real life twice, so I soaked up every minute with her. She's a spitfire, and I know my brother will have his hands full.
Zeke and Trent bump shoulders in farewell outside the airport and share a loaded look. I give Trent a long hug, knowing it'll be months before I see him again.
At least I don't cry. When you've made a life out of moving around, getting attached is unsustainable.
Zeke and I head inside, and he finds a cart for our luggage. A groan escapes his lips as he bends over to lift my suitcase.
Once he straightens, he rubs a hand against his lower back.
"What, is your back hurting, too?" I ask, realizing how little I've thought about his knee this week. I'm not sure whether it's because he's out of the brace or because the injured version of him doesn't belong in this town where he was always young and unbreakable. Maybe I've just been too caught up in my own problems to notice. But I'm watching him now, running a critical eye over him. "Are you having full-body malfunctions?"
He shoots me a wry look. "Take it down a notch; it's nothing."
"Is it airport-related? Are you faking the pains to get free accommodations? You do know we're already in first class, right? And you're rich."
Zeke flicks my forehead, giving me a look like I'm unbelievably annoying.
"Will you let it go? There's nothing wrong with my back. I think a nerve got caught or something," he says dismissively, leading the way through the terminal.
Other than the time I left for my year abroad, I can't remember ever flying out of this airport. But most airports are organized the same way, and it's no issue navigating my way through this one, even though I have an eye firmly fixed on Zeke, trying to see if he's limping.
"God, you sound old. Is that the problem? You have brittle bones?"
I'm pretty sure Zeke is internally weighing the option of shoving me into the aquarium we pass against potentially being held up by airport security.
"I slept badly, that's all, jeez."
I turn, walking backward without breaking stride. "Why?"
