Zane (Inked Brotherhood Book 3) (19 page)

“Come here,” she whispers, and I look at her, uncomprehending, as she reaches for me.

Emma, opening her arms, calling my name. A faceless woman from child services.
‘What are you scared of?’

Fuck.

“Zane.” Dakota, it’s Dakota in front of me. In my bathroom. “Take my hand.”

I wrap my fingers around her smaller hand, and when she tugs on it, I steady myself on the toilet seat and make it to my feet. The room spins a little as she drags me out of the bathroom and back to my bedroom. The sheets are wet with my sweat. They smell of fear.

Dakota stares at the bed for a long moment, then pulls me out and into her bedroom. Pushes me onto the bed, then crawls next to me. I’m shivering now, and she pulls the covers over us, then curls by my side.

I lift my arm, so she can press her body to mine and rest her head on my shoulder. Fuck, I’m exhausted, but I feel calmer with her there. I feel warmer.

“Why aren’t you scared of me?” I mutter, my eyes closing. I don’t get it. Erin almost never saw me like this. I bet she'd have run away if she had.

“Why should I be? You never hurt me, not even when you flash back to bad things in your past. I think, deep inside, you know you can trust me.”

Do I? Maybe I do.
“This happens a lot,” I warn her.

“You barfing in the toilet?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nightmares?”

“Yeah.”

“Flashbacks?”

“Too.”

“Okay then,” she says, pushes up just enough to kiss my cheek and lies back down. “I can live with that, as long as you let me hold you afterward.”

It takes me a long, long time to fall asleep after that, her words playing over and over in my mind, and when I do, I’m still grinning like an idiot.

Dakota

Zane is standing at the kitchen counter, dressed only in draw-string pants, making coffee. As for myself, I’m sitting at the kitchen table, getting an eyeful of his long, strong legs, his muscled ass, and his bare, inked back.

The sight never gets old.

I savor it, even as the images of last night replay before my eyes, and I shiver. Zane’s strangled shouts from the other bedroom. The sound of the bathroom door slamming open and him retching. The way he crawled away from me, as if he didn’t recognize me. As if he was seeing someone else.

He has to talk to someone about this, I think, as he turns and places two mugs of coffee on the table. What he revealed about his memories is horrifying. He should see a specialist, someone who can help him.

Because I don’t know how. Don’t know if I can. All I can do is hold him and tell him he’ll be okay. I have a feeling he doesn’t believe it, and it’s important he does.

Last night he told me he hasn’t mentioned this to anyone else. About the nightmares, or the memories of how his back was burned. Never had to explain all this to anyone before, because he never had a girlfriend before.

Am I his girlfriend? Is he my boyfriend?

“Sugar, no milk,” he says and pushes one mug toward me.

“How did you know?”

He shrugs. “Good memory. I remember stuff.” He swallows hard, and my heart breaks for him. He shouldn’t have to remember certain things at all. They shouldn’t have happened to him. He deserves to be happy.

“Thanks.” I sip at the hot liquid. It’s strong even with the milk, and I grimace. “What else do you know about me?”

He stands at the counter, mug halfway to his lips, considering my question. “You mean, apart from yellow being your favorite color, your fear of water and falling, your preference for strawberry popsicles and lollypops and the fact that you need to see my face when we’re together?”

I swallow hard. “Yeah. Apart from that.”

He shakes his head and gulps down some coffee. “Your family lives out of town. You study graphic design. You are good friends with Audrey. You like orange juice and fruit loops.” He hooks his thumb at the fridge. “Have you checked out the popsicles? I hope they’re the ones you like.”

A silly grin is spreading over my face. “You got me popsicles?” I want to check the fridge, but don’t dare move, not when he might open up to me a bit more.

He shrugs. “You said it was a condition for you coming here.”

A condition for
staying
here, but I don’t correct him, my chest warm because he thought of me. Because he bought me stuff to make me stay. “What else?”

He looks up and gives me a sexy grin. “You love it when I eat your pussy and fuck you with my fingers.”

I choke on my coffee and slam the mug down as I cough.

Zane winks at me. Ten points to the hot guy with the Mohawk.
Damn.

I can’t deny it. I do love it. Heat seeps into my cheeks and spreads through my body. “Is all that in the folder you have on me?”

He doesn’t answer, but chuckles instead, a deep, throaty sound that makes my toes curl.

I drink more coffee, trying to gather my thoughts—not easy when he’s around. “You like your coffee black, no sugar. You like the color blue, and your favorite food is seafood spaghetti.” I asked Erin. So sue me. “You care for your friends as if they’re your brothers and sisters. You don’t like water and hate having your back touched during sex.” He shifts uneasily, and his lips press together in a line. “But you like watching me lick popsicles. You like having me half-dressed, without underwear. And you love being inside me.”

The corners of his mouth lift, and his eyes darken. “I do.”

Warmth spreads on my cheeks, and I bow over my mug. “I, um. You never told me why you hate water so much.” He says nothing, and I forge on. “That day, at the park, when the guys dropped you into the lake, and you…”

I lift my head to find him staring at me, his face pale. His eyes are flat and empty. Oh God, why am I asking this now, after the bad night he’s had?

“Go on. They dropped me, and I went batshit,” he grinds out. “That what you meant?”

Damn.
I shift on my seat and turn the mug in my hands. Time passes. He’s still standing at the counter, gazing at me.

“I don’t hate water,” he says finally, and I nod, because God, I’ve gone too far, and I know it. But he sits down across from me, holding his mug, and says quietly, “I used to love it.”

Caught by surprise, I search for something to say. “What changed?”

He winces and pushes his mug to the side, so he can fold his arms on the table. “There were some kids in a group home I was staying at. I must have been ten or so. They tried to drown me in a bathtub.”

I open my mouth, then snap it closed. Try again. “Are you serious?”

He looks up and just stares at me, a tired expression on his face.

My chair screeches as I push it back and march around the table. I know better than to hug him from behind, so I lean in his side and put my arms around him. He looks startled and stays still as I hold him.

“You were not joking,” I murmur into his shoulder. “You were serious.”

“I don’t joke about such things,” he says, then reaches and encircles my waist, pulling me into his lap. “Why would I?”

I shake my head and tighten my hold, resting my head on his shoulder. I feel like he came close to dying, came close to giving up many times. Like there is so much pain inside him, and I’ve only just scratched the surface.

I hope he won’t give up. I hope he’ll let me hold him when he feels like he’s falling.

“What about you?” he asks after a while. “I think my folder may be incomplete. What do you hate?”

He wants to change the topic, and I let him without protest.

“I hate pearls,” I whisper. “I hate high places. And I hate hospitals.” I spent so much time in them that I’d rather avoid them.

“I’ll pen that in, then,” he says and rocks me slightly, back and forth—as if I’m the one who needs comforting after what he told me.

Maybe I am.

***

I’ve only been staying with Zane for three days now, but we already have a routine. A pleasant routine. He makes coffee in the morning. I have dinner ready when he comes home at night. We kiss, we explore each other’s bodies, learning how and where to touch. Where not to touch and what not to do.

It’s been pretty simple so far. He’ll touch me with his fingers or mouth until I come, and then he’ll enter me until we both come. Like a tried recipe, the positions change marginally on occasion. Zane likes routine. He likes safe. No surprises.

Although it’s odd that we don’t sleep in the same bed, it feels good to see him smile. He has a beautiful smile that lights up his eyes. He really should smile more.

Then it’s Saturday morning, and he’s not smiling. At all. As I wander into the kitchen, I find him slouched in his chair, his cell in his hand. It’s off, the screen black.

“Hey.” I slide into the seat next to him. I’m dressed in another of his T-shirts and normally—in the routine we’ve established—this is something that drives him crazy.

Not today. He nods but says nothing. Doesn’t look up.

Worried, I squeeze his arm. “Are you all right?”

He nods again, an automatic motion. “Yeah. I have to go.”

I blink. “Go where?”

He frowns, then pockets the phone. He’s dressed in T-shirt and long jeans. Ready to leave. “Visit my sister.”

“Okay.” I wet my lips, trying to think. “Can I come with you?”

“No.”

His curt reply stings. But why should it? It’s not like I’m his girlfriend or anything. We don’t even sleep together in the same bed. “I could help.”

“You can’t.” He pushes off the table and stands up, his face set in hard lines. “Got to go.”

“Wait.” I scramble to my feet, panicking. “Where will you be? Are you sure I shouldn’t come? I could drive, wherever it is, and I could bring you coffee and sandwiches, and—”

“I said no.” His gaze softens for a moment. “Not this time.”

My heart hurts, but I force myself to nod.

“I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. Will you be okay?”

“Yeah. I’m meeting Audrey for coffee today, and Tessa is organizing another picnic in the park tomorrow. Besides, I have some work to finish.”

It’s all true, and yet I don’t want him to go. I like being with him, having his attention on me, his teasing, his hands on me… I’ll miss him, I realize with a jolt.

“Do you mind if I stay a few more days here?” I whisper, wiggling my bare toes on the floor. I need to repaint my nails, I think randomly. “I may have something lined up, but it’s not sure yet.”

“Come here.” He opens his arms, and I walk into them with relief. “You can stay here as long as you need. I wish…”

I wait for him to finish, but he doesn’t. He holds me against his chest, his arms strong and secure around me.

I wish we could stay like this forever.

“Need to get going,” he whispers.

I let him go, though I hate it. I hate being apart from him. I hate seeing him so stressed and sad.

I’d tell him to write down all these things I hate in my folder, but he’s already leaving.

***

After Zane is gone, I wander the empty apartment. I don’t know why I’m in such a funk. I want to know what’s wrong with his sister, but I’m scared to ask. Scared I’ll press him too much, too soon, and he’ll push me away. Scared to make him relive the pain. That everything I do hurts him, when all I want is to see that smile on his face.

Zane is complicated. This is complicated. But I’ve never felt more alive. Never felt happier than when I’m with him.

And now I’m scaring myself, because it is too much, too soon.

I meet Audrey at a new cafe downtown. She’s all smiles, happiness radiating from her face like the freaking sun. She’s been that way ever since Asher moved in with her. They’re such a cute couple.

“Where is your other half?” I nudge her with my elbow as I take my seat and grab the menu. “Is he hiding under your chair?”

She laughs. “Yeah, right.” Like the rest of the Brotherhood, Asher is over six foot of muscled hawtness. Hard to miss in a room, really.

“How is he?”

“Great. Passed his GED.”

“That’s awesome!” It really is. Audrey told me Asher missed so much school he thought he’d never catch up. “We should celebrate.”

“What did you think tomorrow’s picnic in the park was about?” She falls silent when the waiter arrives to take my order, then leans forward again. “How’s Zane?”

I don’t even know how to begin answering this. Hot? Awesome? Sex on legs? Funny and charming? Sad, damaged, dark and brooding… Hurting. “He’s fine.”

“Tess says you’re staying with him.” I swear her green eyes frigging twinkle. God, I’m like Grumpy Cat. “What’s going on? Are you guys, like, officially together?”

Couldn’t be any further from ‘officially’ than we are now. I mean, sex and joking around don’t count, do they?

“I’m just staying with him until I find a new roommate.” I pray the coffee comes soon to give me something to do with my hands. I was looking forward to meeting Audrey, and now I feel like running.

“I see.” She’s still smiling though, and I wonder what exactly it is she sees. “Do you like him?”

Like him? I freaking love him.

Oh sweet Jesus.
“He’s okay, I guess.”

“He’s hot.”

I laugh. Audrey is watching me like I’m Santa. Like she’s expecting more. More joy. More surprises. More magic.

“He’s hot,” I agree. How can anyone deny it? “And nice.”

“Ah.” Looking pleased, she leans back as the waiter brings my coffee.

Sugar, no milk. As it’s written in my folder.

A pang goes through my chest. I shouldn’t be missing Zane so much already. He’s only been gone a couple of hours.

“Audrey… what do you know about Zane’s sister?”

Her cinnamon brows lift, and she pushes a fiery-red strand of hair behind her ear. “His sister? Not much. I’m not that close to Zane. You should ask Erin.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know Erin that well.”

“What’s wrong?”

“His sister is sick. I don’t know what she has, but it must be bad. Zane is concerned.”

The understatement of the year.

“Maybe Ash knows. Shall we ask him now?”

I take a deep breath. “See, I knew he was hiding under your chair.”

She laughs and pulls out her cell phone. “He and the guys are hanging out at Damage Control. They’re…” She presses her lips together, and I don’t like the concern tightening her fine features.