30 Zara #2
“Yes. Right now, you’re running because you’re scared.” I push for more. “Right now, you’re deciding I’m safer without you instead of letting me choose. Right now, you’re treating my love as if it means I don’t understand you, and that is insulting as hell.”
His head snaps toward me. “You want me to get mad?”
“Yes.”
“That is a stupid thing to want.”
“Good thing I’m known for smart choices.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.” I take another step closer, and he immediately steps back. I follow. “Get mad, Cass.”
“Don’t push me.” His voice strains, like he’s trying hard to hold back.
“I am pushing you.”
“Zae.”
“What? Are you mad?”
“Yes.”
“How mad?”
His breathing gets heavier.
“Answer me,” I keep going, needing him to see what I already know.
“I’m pissed.”
“Good.”
“Stop saying that.”
“No.”
“You’re pushing me on purpose,” he says.
“Yeah. I am.”
“Why?”
“Because you keep acting as if your anger is solid proof that you’re dangerous. So get angry and prove yourself wrong.”
His laugh has no humor in it. It’s a huff of bitter air. “You have no idea what you’re asking.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t!” His voice rises again. “You want this to be some moment where I get mad and nothing bad happens, and then we both feel better. That’s not how this works.”
“Then how does it work?”
“It doesn’t.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
“No, it’s the one you keep hiding behind.”
His hands flex at his sides. “You don’t know when to stop.”
“Neither do you. You just go the other direction. I push too hard, you shut down too hard. Congratulations, we’re both terrible at moderation.”
He looks furious now.
He lets out a rough breath, then shakes his head like he hates what he’s about to say. “You give and give until there’s nothing left, Zae. Like if you take care of people hard enough, maybe they’ll finally stay.”
I stop moving, and regret crosses his face before he can hide it.
“No. Keep going.” I poke at him harder, because he doesn’t get to say that and then clam up.
His brows draw together. “Zae.”
“Don’t Zae me.” I cross my arms, mostly because my hands have started shaking. “You had that one sitting there. So say it.”
He drags a hand over his mouth, pissed now, but not just at me. At himself too. “I mean you’ll run yourself into the ground trying to prove you’re worth keeping, and then you’ll smile like it doesn’t bother you when no one even notices.
“I think you learned to be useful because being taken care of wasn’t something you could count on. And I hate that. I hate that you’ll run yourself into the ground for people who don’t even know what it costs you.”
It hurts because he’s not wrong, which only makes me want to scream.
“See,” I say, keeping my voice sharp enough to cover the ache. “Now we’re fighting.”
His brows pull together. “That’s what you wanted?”
“Yes.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want to be another person who takes from you. Who you feel like you need to take care of.”
“Then don’t.”
“I don’t want you to need me because I’m the first person who made you feel wanted.”
“You’re not.” I step closer. “It's not that. It’s that you’re one of the first people who made me feel like I could want something back without feeling bad about it. That matters.”
His eyes stay on mine.
“And yeah,” I admit, my throat tightening around the words.
“Maybe I do give too much. Maybe I learned to make myself useful because needing something back never worked out well for me. I know that’s not healthy.
I know I have to work on it. I am working on it.
But loving you is not one of my problems, Cass. Don’t turn it into one.”
His voice drops. “That isn’t what I meant.”
“It’s what it feels like. Do you want to hurt me?” I ask.
His face goes still. “What?”
“Answer, Cass.”
“No. I don't want to hurt you.”
“See, that was an easy answer.”
“Because the answer is no.”
“But you’re mad right now. You’re yelling.”
“I know.”
“So, I ask again, do you want to hurt me?”
His eyes burn into mine. “No.”
“Say the whole thing.”
“Zae.”
“Say it!”
His chest rises hard, and then falls heavy. “I’m mad, and I don’t want to hurt you.”
I step closer until I have to tip my head back to look up at him. “Say it again.”
His throat moves. “I’m mad, and I don’t want to hurt you.”
“And do you still love me?”
His eyes soften then, even with all the anger still there. “Yes.”
“So maybe those things can exist at the same time.”
He looks away, but I catch his face in my hands.
“Maybe you can be mad and still be you,” I whisper. “Maybe you can be scared and still stay. Maybe I can love you and still protect myself if I ever need to. Maybe you don’t have to decide the ending before we get to live it.”
His hands come to my waist slowly, carefully, and stop there.
“I don’t know how to do this without being scared,” he admits.
“Then be scared.”
His forehead drops to mine, and when he exhales, I feel it against my mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you like that. I’m sorry I made you feel like loving me was wrong. I’m sorry I stepped back when you reached for me.”
I close my eyes, and one tear slips out before I can stop it. “I hated you for that.”
“I know.”
“No, I mean I really hated you. I wanted to throw something at your head and then ask if you were okay.”
His mouth barely curves. “That sounds right.”
“I’m still mad.”
“You should be.”
“I might be mad again randomly at some inconvenient time when you think we’re fine.”
“I’ll take it.”
I open my eyes and narrow them. “Don’t get too agreeable. It’s weird.”
A real breath of laughter leaves him. I missed that sound so much it makes me ache. Then his eyes drop to my mouth.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I whisper.
His voice is rough. “I’m trying not to.”
“You’re failing.”
“I know.”
“You should probably be better at trying.”
His hands tighten on my waist. “Zae.”
The way he says my name makes my brain give up immediately.
I grab the front of his hoodie. “Are you going to kiss me or are you going to keep brooding at my mouth?”
He moves before I finish the sentence, crashing his mouth into mine. His hand slides into my hair. Mine go to his shoulders.
I make a sound into his mouth that I will deny later if asked, and he groans, backing me toward the bed. My knees hit the mattress and I sit without breaking the kiss, pulling him with me by the hoodie.
He follows until he’s standing between my legs, hands braced on either side of me. I wrap my legs around his thighs.
“Zae,” he breathes against my mouth.
“What?”
“We need to slow down.”
“I hate that sentence.”
“I know.” He presses his forehead to mine, breathing hard. His eyes are closed, and I can feel how much he doesn’t want to stop.
“I want you too much right now,” he admits softly.
“That is not the worst news I’ve ever heard.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
His hand moves from the mattress to my thigh, then stops there, fingers curling once before he pulls it away.
“I don’t want to use you to feel better.”
That shuts me up, because he’s right and I hate it.
I lean back on my hands and glare at him. “Fine.”
He opens his eyes. “Fine?”
“Fine. We slow down. For now.”
Relief moves over his face.
“But just so we’re clear,” I add, pointing at him, “I am still mad. I still love you. And when we’re both less of a disaster, I’m climbing you and bringing up the fact that you interrupted me right when things were getting good.”
He laughs, something real that catches me so off guard that I smile before I can stop myself. He sits beside me on the bed, close enough for his leg to press against mine.
I lean into him, and his arm comes around my shoulders right away. For a few minutes, neither of us says anything. I press my cheek against his hoodie and breathe him in.
“I’m going to mess up,” he quietly whispers.
“Probably.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.” I tilt my head back enough to look at him. “So am I.”
“I don’t want to run again.”
“Please don’t.” My throat tightens, but I don’t look away.
He brushes his thumb over my shoulder once. “I won’t. I love you, Sunshine.”
I let myself have it before I look back at him. “I love you too, Razor Wire.”
His arm tightens around me. This time, when I reach for him, he doesn’t step back.