Chapter 6 #2
Zane doesn’t respond, so I turn away from him and limp over toward the closet.
Since my apartment was ransacked, I can’t go back there.
Which means the only clothes I own are the ones on my back.
Thankfully, I still wear roughly the same size I did in high school, so my hope is that there are still some clothes here I can salvage.
“How is your pain?” It shouldn’t thrill me that he cares, but it does.
There was never a safer place for me than in his strong arms. Even back when we were little more than teenagers with no idea what waited for us on the other side of a marriage we were probably far too young to be considering in the first place.
But I can’t focus on that now because it’s dangerous territory. Like treading water in the middle of a hurricane. Outside, more thunder booms. The storm is right on the horizon now—much like the one in my heart.
“Why didn’t you become a doctor?” I counter as I withdraw a pair of jeans and a baggy t-shirt. They smell terrible, so I shove them back into the closet. I might be desperate to stop looking like I walked through a muddy fan blade, but not that desperate.
Crossing to my dresser, I wait for him to answer.
Zane lets out a deep breath. “I will only answer your questions if you start answering mine.”
Run, Tessa. Put distance between you two, and be done with it.
Unfortunately, curiosity has always gotten the better of me.
“Fine. But we don’t talk about the night I left.
I won’t answer a single thing about that.
And I get the option of saying pass.” It’s a precedent that needs to be set because I can’t have him knowing the truth. Not even now, all these years later.
“The same goes for me, then,” he replies.
I withdraw a pair of sweats and a baggy t-shirt from my bottom drawer. Since these were somewhat closed in, the smell is subtle enough that I can deal with it. “Deal. I need to change first.”
Without waiting for me to ask, he starts to turn—then hesitates. He doesn’t even have to speak the words for me to know why he takes a pause.
“I won’t bail, Zane.” I’m honestly surprised it’s the truth, but maybe that’s more good that can come of my being here. I can finally close the chapter, not just on this trailer—but on Zane, too.
Without another word, he moves out into the hall and closes the door. The panic kicks in the moment that faint click registers.
Trapped.
My breathing goes ragged, and the walls begin to close in on me. How many times was I locked in this room?
Darkness overtakes the edges of my vision, and my heart hammers so loud I can’t even hear the storm brewing outside.
How many times did my father trap me in here because he was angry?
How many times did I go days without food because I was too afraid to sneak out the window to find some?
I don’t even hear the door open, but then Zane is in front of me. “Breathe, Tessa.” His hands go to my face, and I suck in a ragged breath, still too terrified to be bothered that he’s seeing me like this. “You’re safe. You can see me. I’m here. Feel my hands.”
Touch. Sight. Sound. I use those senses to get a grasp on reality, but it’s still not enough.
I’ll never be safe. Not really. What happened in Savannah is proof of that.
“Lord, please wrap Tessa in Your arms. Please help her focus on You.”
I can’t even find the words to tell him I’m pretty sure God gave up on me a long, long time ago. As he continues to pray, his hands gently cupping my cheeks, my breathing begins to slow, and the walls ease up.
When I can finally see clearly, I pull away from him. A chill runs up my spine at the sudden distance, but I don’t give in and lean back toward him.
Zane drops his hands.
“I’m fine. Thanks.” But my tone is anything but steady.
He dips his head in a nod. It’s hardly the first panic attack he’s helped me out of. In fact, there was a time when only Zane could save me once the fear kicked in. Seems that, too, hasn’t changed.
“Please leave the door open. Just step into the hall out of sight.”
Zane hesitates a moment but nods and moves out into the hall.
My dusty bed creaks when I take a seat to remove my shoes. As I do, I reach beneath my mattress and withdraw the knife I kept tucked safely away. Running my fingers over my name carved in the wooden casing of the pocketknife, more tears fill my eyes.
Another thing Zane gave me.
He was the first one to ever give me a Christmas present. And this was it. Not a single night went by that I slept without it. Until I’d decided never to come back to this place. I’d forgotten it in my haste to escape, but I’d never forgotten it. Or the kindness he’d shown me.
I set it aside on the bed and kick off my shoes. As soon as they’re on the floor, I take a deep breath and undo the buttons of my shorts. I lie back on the bed and start coughing when dust fills my lungs.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I bite out, then try to stand. With the injury on my thigh, standing on one leg to get the shorts off is going to be impossible. Fantastic. I tug the shorts back up over my thighs. “Actually. Can you help me?”
He moves into the space wordlessly, his muscular frame taking up far more room than he should have. “What do you need me to do?”
“Close your eyes and help me get the shorts off my legs. The bed is dusty and—”
Zane shuts his eyes tightly and turns his face away. His large hands splay on my waist, and I suck in a breath as he quickly slides the shorts down over my hips. I grip his shoulders with both hands, giving him my weight as I lift each leg free.
Pain shoots up through my injured thigh, but as soon as I shift the weight to my uninjured leg, it becomes manageable again.
As I release his shoulder and steady myself on the dresser, Zane turns away completely. “What else?” he asks.
Everything. I shake the thought away. Needing anyone is a risk. But needing Zane? That’s a trap I can’t risk falling into. “I’m not sure I can hold myself steady enough to get the sweats on.”
Eyes still closed, Zane holds an arm out, so I take it and guide him toward my upper arm. He holds me, gaze turned away, eyes closed, as I slip into the sweats.
“Okay, thanks. You can open your eyes.”
He does, then moves out of the room again when I shrug out of my jacket. Thankfully, the injury to my thigh doesn’t cause me any issues as I change my shirt and put my hair up in a ponytail. After I pull my jacket back on, I limp back to the bed to put my shoes on.
“You can come in.”
Zane steps back into the room and immediately crosses to me before sinking to his knees. Without asking, he takes my shoe and slips it onto my foot.
“I can do that.”
“It’s easier on your leg if I do it,” he replies.
He’s right, but Zane Knox kneeling in front of me is too much for me to handle. Especially when he glances up at me through thick, dark eyelashes, his green gaze so bright it’s nearly blinding.
“Why didn’t you become a doctor?” I ask again, hoping that if we start this Twenty Questions game, we can get it over with, and I can move on.
“That depends on who you ask,” he replies.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting right now. Is someone after you?”
“I already answered that back at the hospital. I don’t know.”
“That’s not the whole truth.” His sharp gaze is trained on my face, not missing a single flicker of emotion as it passes over my features.
“Someone tossed my apartment,” I reply, because I know this questioning will get nowhere if one of us doesn’t give in. “I found my door ajar and peeked inside to see that everything had been tossed. I ran and was jumped just outside.”
“Where?”
“Savannah.”
“Georgia?”
“That’s the one.”
He nods and crosses his arms, his powerful stance igniting an even stronger attraction within me.
Get it together, Tessa.
“Is that where you’ve been for the last eighteen years?” The question is a punch to my gut because it’s exactly what I’d wanted to avoid. How do you tell the man you loved more than anything that you chose to leave him out of fear? That living a half-life was easier than a simple one with him?
That the pain was more familiar than the love, so you chose the former?