Chapter 28
I unlock the door to my mom’s house and hold it open for him, waiting as he drags himself inside. Zane’s been quiet since we left his house, his shoulders hunched, his jaw tight. I’ve never seen him like this, and it makes my heart ache, even though I’m still furious about everything else. He doesn’t say a word as he walks past me into the kitchen.
I open the fridge and grab a couple of sodas, handing one to him. He takes it but doesn’t open it, just stares at the can like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. The silence stretches out, heavy and uncomfortable.
“Come on,” I say, grabbing his arm. “Let’s go to my room.”
He doesn’t argue, just follows me upstairs like he’s on autopilot. I push the door open and he walks in. His gaze landing on my turntable. Without a word, he flips through the stack of vinyl until he finds what he’s looking for— a Taylor Swift album. He pulls it out and sets it on the player, the opening notes of “Lover” filling the room.
“Dance with me,” he says, turning to me with his hand outstretched.
I blink at him. “What?”
“Dance with me,” he repeats, more insistent this time.
I hesitate for a second, then take his hand. He pulls me into his arms, holding me close as we sway to the music. His grip is firm but gentle, his body warm against mine. He steps on my toe and I chuckle.
“You’re terrible at this,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.
“I’m trying here,” he mutters, but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips.
We keep moving, slow and unhurried, the music wrapping around us like a cocoon. His hands slide down to my waist, pulling me even closer. I glance up at him, and for a moment, the weight in his eyes lifts, replaced by need.
And then he kisses me.
It’s gentle at first, just a soft press of his lips against mine, but it doesn’t stay that way. His hand tangles in my hair, tilting my head back as he deepens the kiss, his mouth hot and insistent. I gasp against him, my hands clutching at his shirt.
He pushes me back toward the bed, his movements careful but deliberate. When the backs of my knees hit the mattress, I sit, looking up at him as he stands over me. His gaze is dark, hungry.
“I want to fuck you,” he groans, his voice low and rough as his hand slips beneath my shirt, fingers skimming over my skin. “Remy, this has been hell. I need to fucking taste you and feel that tight pussy. Let me...”
I don’t say anything, just nod, pulling him down to me. His mouth finds mine again, hot and demanding, as he eases me back onto the bed. His hand slides lower, slipping beneath the waistband of my panties, and I arch into him, a soft moan escaping my lips. He touches my entrance.
“God, you’re so wet,” he murmurs, his fingers teasing me, circling but never quite giving me what I want. “So fucking perfect.”
“Zane,” I breathe, my voice shaky. I need him so fucking bad. I’ve been fantasizing about this and roleplaying it over and over. I thought he’d never touch me again. I plead, “Please...”
He doesn’t make me beg. His fingers slip inside me, his thumb pressing against my clit as he works me, his movements skilled and confident. I can’t think, can’t focus on anything but the way he’s making me feel, the way he’s unraveling me with every touch.
“You like that?” he asks, his voice husky. “You like the way I make you come apart?”
I nod, my breath hitching as he speeds up, his fingers curling just right. I’m so close, teetering on the edge, and then—
He pulls back.
“Zane,” I gasp, frustrated, but he just smirks, his lips brushing against mine.
“Patience, baby,” he murmurs, reaching down to push his pants off. “I’ve got you.”
Then his warm mouth is on me. “Jesus, Rem. You taste so fucking good, you know that?” His tongue slides up and down, inserting me, and then sucking my clit. I cry out in moans, watching him, grabbing his head of hair.
And then he’s there, pressing his dick into me, slow and deliberate. I gasp, clutching at his shoulders as he fills me, the sensation overwhelming. He stills for a moment, his forehead resting against mine, his breath ragged.
“You’re the one good thing in my life,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “The only thing that makes sense.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I just pull him closer, kissing him deeply as he starts to move. His thrusts are slow at first, measured, but it doesn’t take long for him to pick up the pace, his movements growing more urgent.
“God, you feel so fucking good,” he groans, his thumb finding my clit again. “So perfect. All mine.”
I can’t hold back the noises spilling from my lips, the way my body responds to him, the way he’s driving me closer and closer to the edge. And when I finally fall, it’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced, my body shattering around him as he follows, his movements erratic and desperate.
He comes with me, filling me whole with his come. He stays inside of me, leaning down to kiss me.
“I want to stay inside of you,” he says, pulsing his dick.
I take a deep breath as I nod. “Okay.”
He rolls to the side, pressing into me. “I want to stay like this forever, Remy.”
We lie there with his dick inside of me, his chest pressed against back, and his arms wrapped around me. And this is the most perfect moment I’ve ever lived in. Neither of us says anything, but we don’t need to. This is enough.
I wake up to the sound of soft whimpers. At first, I think I’m dreaming, but then I hear it again— low, broken noises that don’t belong in the stillness of my room. My eyes adjust to the faint glow from the streetlight outside, and I see Zane. He’s curled up on his side, his back to me, his shoulders shaking.
“Zane?” I whisper, sitting up. He doesn’t respond.
I scoot closer, placing a hand on his arm. He jerks away like I’ve burned him, and that’s when I hear it. He’s crying. Full-on, gut-wrenching sobs that make my chest tighten. I’ve never seen him like this, not even close.
“Hey,” I say softly, reaching for him again. This time, he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he rolls onto his back, his face a mess of tears and pain. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here.”
He shakes his head, wiping at his face like he’s ashamed. “I’m fine,” he mumbles, but it’s a lie, and we both know it.
“You’re not,” I say firmly, leaning over him. “Zane, you’re crying in your sleep. That’s not fine. What’s going on?”
For a moment, I think he’s going to shut me out, but then he sits up, running his hands through his hair. He’s shaking, his breath uneven.
“It’s just...” He pauses, his voice cracking. “It’s my dad. The shit he’s done. The shit he’s made me do.”
I freeze, my heart sinking. I’ve always known Zane’s home life was messed up, but he’s never talked about it. Not like this.
“What do you mean?” I ask cautiously, not wanting to push too hard.
He looks at me, his eyes bloodshot and raw. “You don’t want to know,” he says, his voice bitter. “Trust me.”
“Try me,” I counter, crossing my legs beneath me. “Zane, you can’t just drop that and expect me to ignore it. What did he make you do?”
He sighs, leaning back against the headboard. For a long time, he doesn’t say anything, and I’m about to give up when he finally speaks.
“My dad’s a motherfucker,” he says flatly. “He’s spent my whole life beating the shit out of me, telling me I’m worthless, making sure I know I’ll never be good enough.”
I suck in a breath, my stomach twisting.
“And when he wasn’t doing that,” Zane continues, his voice hardening, “he was using me. Sending me to do his dirty work. Threatening people, breaking things, hurting people. All so he could sit back and keep his hands clean.”
“Jesus, Zane,” I whisper, my hand reaching for his without thinking. “That’s… that’s fucked up.”
He lets out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah. I mean it stopped once I joined the Reapers. And then that shit died out the night I chased you in the woods behind the mansion because I’m done. I’m done being a fucking pawn for people higher up.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, squeezing his hand. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“What was I supposed to say?” he snaps, his voice rising. “That my dad’s a psycho who’d probably kill me if I tried to leave? That he’s got enough dirt on me to ruin my life ten times over? The Reapers kept me safe, but once he gets wind that I’m out then…”
“Zane,” I start, but he cuts me off.
“I’m fucking trapped, Remy,” he says, his voice breaking again. “No matter what I do, no matter how far I run, he’ll always be there, pulling the strings. And now...” He trails off, his hands trembling. “Now he’s dragging you into it. He’s fucking with your life because of me.”
“Hey,” I say quickly, shifting closer to him. “This isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault.”
“Isn’t it?” he asks, his eyes meeting mine. “If I’d just stayed away, if I hadn’t gotten involved with you...”
“Stop,” I say firmly, cutting him off. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to blame yourself for shit that’s out of your control. Your dad’s the one doing this, not you.”
He looks at me, his expression a mix of anger and vulnerability. “You don’t get it,” he says quietly. “You don’t know what it’s like.”
“Then tell me,” I say, my voice softening. “Help me understand.”
For a moment, he just stares at me, like he’s trying to decide if he can trust me. Then he sighs, running a hand through his hair.
“It’s just...” He shakes his head. “I’m so fucking tired, Remy. Tired of pretending, tired of fighting, tired of... everything.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I just pull him into my arms, holding him as tightly as I can. He doesn’t resist, his head dropping onto my shoulder as he hugs me back.
We stay like that for what feels like forever, neither of us saying a word. And for once, I think he’s finally letting himself just... be.
Eventually, his breathing evens out, and I think he’s fallen asleep. But then I hear the front door open, followed by the unmistakable sound of my mom’s voice.
“Shit,” I whisper, pulling away from Zane. “My mom’s home.”
He sits up, wiping at his face. “I should go,” he says, but I shake my head.
“Stay here,” I say quickly. “I’ll handle it.”
I grab a sweatshirt from the floor and pull it on over my tank top and shorts, then head downstairs. My mom is in the kitchen, slamming cabinet doors and muttering under her breath.
“Mom?” I ask cautiously, stepping into the room. “What’s going on?”
She turns to me, her face flushed with anger. “I got fired,” she says flatly.
My stomach drops. “What?”
“Apparently, my position is no longer necessary,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Bullshit corporate excuse for ‘we don’t want you around anymore.’”
I blink, trying to process what she’s saying. My mom’s been at that job for years. They wouldn’t just fire her out of the blue. The shock subsides and I finally realize what’s happening.
Fuck.
“This is him,” I say quietly, more to myself than to her. “This is Zane’s dad.”
My mom looks at me, confused. “What are you talking about?”
I shake my head, not ready to explain. “This is all my fault. I’m sorry, mom.”