Chapter Eleven
ZACH WAS FURIOUS. THERE was no other word for the anger flowing through his veins like a disease, eating at him and growing in size and strength. After his “confrontation” with Dylan, he’d gone straight back to his big, empty house and worked out in his home gym. Pounded the boxing bag, ran five miles. He’d even pumped some weights. Nothing made this horrible sense of ... impotency go away.
He slept, ate, and went back to work. What else did he have in his life, anyway?
“Hey, Zach, how are you?” Sam asked as Zach entered the attending’s locker room a couple of days later.
“Hey, Sam. Not bad. You?” Zach nodded at his friend and opened his locker, placing his jacket and keys away.
He slipped his mobile into his pocket in a stupid habit he’d picked up. He told himself that
