I don’t really know what to say to that. It’s madness he would do that, but that’s not the reason I’m stunned. I’m stunned because of the passion in his voice. The determination in his eyes. He’s never spoken to me like that before. I want to make you happy, Sloane. I want to keep you safe.
It doesn’t matter that I’ve told him I love him and he hasn’t said it back. This matters. This statement right here is all I need to hear to know I haven’t been absolutely crazy in believing in him this whole time. I would never have dreamed those words would come out of his mouth a month and a half ago. I wouldn’t have even been able to imagine it. But there’s a soft side to Zeth he’s finally showing to me, and every time I catch a glimpse of it, I feel myself falling harder.
The aviators have remained on the dash where Zeth placed them. He gives me a glance out of the corner of his eye, and a small, cautious smile forms on his lips. “Tell me you can handle this,” he says. “’Cause I need to hear you say it.”
“Lowell?” I ask, even though I know that’s not what he’s referring to. He blinks at me, the beginnings of his smile fading. I reach over and take his right hand from the steering wheel, holding it in my own. It’s a brave move—we’ve not really gotten to stage yet where we’re very tactile with one another outside of sex. I’m ready to be, though. I want to be. I don’t know how he feels about being touchy feely—until he laces his fingers through mine and holds onto my hand tightly. Relief surges through me. Everything, every small little action, every carefully thought-out word feels like an experiment right now. An experiment that could either be gloriously successful or blow up in my face. “I can handle this,” I say, making sure to look him right in the eye. “I can and I will take whatever you throw at me, Zeth. I’m stronger than I look.”
He shakes his head slightly, another small, barely there smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. He looks straight at me, like he’s looking into me, and then does something that makes my heart sing. He lifts our hands to his mouth and lays a gentle kiss on my wrist. “It doesn’t matter what you look like, Sloane. You’re the strongest person I know.”
******
Zeth pulls the car up outside the entrance to Marlewood Shopping Mall, ignoring the angry beeping from other motorists that have to filter into another lane to get around the Humvee. Michael doesn’t even wake up. The man can sleep through anything.
I grab my purse—the one I’ve somehow managed to retain throughout this madness—and get ready to open the door. Zeth grabs my wrist and grips hold of me tight. “Wait.”
I wasn’t going to make a big deal out of leaving the car. Saying goodbye, even if only for a few hours, should everything go according to plan, seemed like a bad idea. More tension. More stress to add onto everything else. But I see the indecision in Zeth’s eyes. It wavers, and then it’s no longer indecision but resolve. He leans across the seat and carefully places his palm against the side of my face.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” he murmurs. “Don’t make me have to come get you, okay?”
I nod, and Zeth closes the final few inches between us. And he kisses me. Kisses. Me. For as long as I live, for as long as we’re together, I will never be complacent about receiving a kiss from this man. Ever. I waited so long for the first one that now this and every other time he reaches for me and places his lips against mine will be an action to be treasured. His mouth is hot and demanding. The careful touch of his palm against my cheek quickly evolves as he lets go of my wrist so he can hold my face in both his hands. His breathing comes out ragged and fast, but not because the kiss is turning him on. It’s not that kind of kiss. It’s because he means it.
When he lets me go, I experience the biggest wave of doubt. We shouldn’t be doing this. We should honest to goodness be ditching Rebel and heading for the hills. I know Zeth doesn’t think we’ll be safe until Charlie’s out of the way—I refuse to acknowledge the fact he believes the old man needs to be dead—but if we changed our names and bought fake IDs, how hard could it be to run and hide? The reality of it, what running would mean, flashes through my head as I consider it. Not staying in any one place for too long. Working menial jobs. Never finding Lacey. Not being able to put down any roots.
Not being able to be a doctor.
The ship may have already sailed on that one, but the very thought of it still sinks through me like a stone. Fuck. When I look up at Zeth, his forehead pressed against mine, staring intently back at me, I can practically see the same thoughts running through his head. He knows we have no other way out of this. And besides, he’s not a man to turn and run from anything.