Chapter Sixteen
River
––––––––
From in front of the house, River watched Lori walk out of the front door of the bar and hurry to her car. The engine started. The headlights came on.
River smiled at the speedy way Lori headed toward the clubhouse. Lori's husband rode for Gem Haven, and every night that Lori worked, she met Trent for a drink after work, and he escorted her to one of the cabins where they lived behind the clubhouse when they finished. Their marriage was solid as a rock.
She put her hands in the pouch of her hoody. It was after midnight. The night air in the mountains blanketed everything, making the grass dewy. Even the threat of wetness seeping through the blanket she sat on couldn't get her to move off the spot in the yard.
She'd come out earlier because three elk loitered in front of the garage. They'd stayed over an hour before wandering off. It was the first sign of wildlife since the nearby fire. She hoped the weather and the arrival of the animals meant the fire was out.
She inhaled the clear air. Listening to the music wafting from the bar had relaxed her.
She scrolled the internet on her phone, checking all the social media sites she'd registered to but had never posted in the hope that her sister would search for her. Kenna wouldn't have her phone number or address, but her name hadn't changed.
Sighing, she pushed to her bare feet and picked up the blanket, folding it into a small square.
Halfway to the house, a shiver rolled through her, and she stopped, sensing something wrong. She squinted into the shadows and spotted someone leaning against the house.
"Zane?" She walked closer until she could make out his features. "What are you doing?"
"Watching you."
She hugged the blanket to her chest. "Why didn't you come to me?"
She stopped in front of him. The slight smell of booze came from him, and she wondered if he came from the clubhouse.
He remained standing there, ignoring her question. She shifted the blanket, becoming irritated when they could've had time together instead of him watching her from a distance.
Sometimes, not knowing what he was thinking was the worst part of living here.
There was no one she could talk to about her feelings toward him. Every time she'd tried to tell him, he shut her down or made an excuse to walk away.
Yet, he had no trouble sneaking over in the middle of the night for sex.
She lifted her chin. If he couldn't vocalize what was going on between them—what had gone on between them for years now, then she was done.
She stepped inside and shut the door before he could follow her. Then, for good measure, she turned the deadbolt.
Because it killed her to shut him out, she waited, giving him a second chance to knock. She listened for any indication that he would break down the door and declare his love for her.
Then, she silently begged him to come to her.
She had no tears to cry. Only a deep sadness contaminated her life.
Eventually, she climbed the stairs and went into the bedroom. She tossed the blanket on the floor and would deal with it in the morning before work.
She flipped the light switch. A hand covered her mouth, muffling her scream.
"Sh." Zane held her against his body. "You forgot to lock the back door."
She fought against his hold, more irritated at him for scaring her to death than sneaking into the house. Pulling his hand away from her mouth, she said, "Great, you can use the same door to leave."
It was idiotic of her to kick him out of his own house when she wanted to keep him with her. But she'd run out of patience.
"Don't hate me," he said against her ear.
She trembled at the way his warm breath covered the side of her neck. "I don't hate you. I'm mad."
He turned her around and pinned her against the wall, bracing his hands on each side of her, imprisoning her. "You should hate me."
"I don't—" She pushed his chest, trying to see his face better. "What are you talking about?"
"I shouldn't be here." He kissed her neck. "Tell me to go."
"I don't want you to leave." She grabbed his leather vest. "I don't know what's going on with you. You come over here and want me, but away from the house, you act like—"
"I can't stay away." He growled.
His anguish carved his face, almost making his eyes disappear. The lines deepened at his temples.
"Nobody's telling you to go." She shook him. "I want you here with me—"
He captured her mouth, stealing her chance to tell him how she felt. He slid his hands down the wall until they were around her neck, holding her there.
Dragging his lips off her, he placed his forehead on her forehead, breathing raggedly. His heartbeat raced against her.
"I can't," he whispered. "No matter how much I want to."
He'd come to her after drinking. There was no way he'd say those things if he were sober.
She had no idea what he was even saying. Why couldn't he love her?
Zane inhaled deeply and pushed away from her. A chill swept over her at the absence of his body heat.
He walked away. No explanation, no excuse, no nothing.
She stepped forward to follow him but stopped. It wasn't up to her to show him how to love her.
She didn't need him to confess how much he loved her. That was something she'd always known. A man doesn't help an eleven-year-old child, stick around for years to make sure she was taken care of and stayed safe, and then steal her away from foster care at the drop of a tear to hide her away in Gem Haven, chancing his freedom to make sure she remained happy without love being involved.
While she believed men could have sex without love, she believed the turmoil Zane fought, trying to keep his distance from her and failing, was motivated by love.
There was never any doubt that he wanted her.
But it wasn't her responsibility to make him accept that love.
As hard as it was to go through each day wanting to love him completely without anything holding her back, she turned the other way, crawled onto the bed, and hugged her pillow. She hated nights like this.