“I’m okay, Sloane.”
“You’re not okay.” And neither am I. I want to tell him that, but my pride won’t let me. Even when I was a kid, I’d never admit to physical pain. It seemed like a weakness to me then, and it sure as hell feels like a weakness now. Zeth’s not stupid, though. He’s seen me blanch every time I try to move my left arm.
“Is it broken?” he asks, running his fingertips across my bare shoulder.
“No, not broken. Just sore.”
“So you’re gonna be fine?” There’s an old stillness to him as he asks me this. It’s entirely new, and makes me think he’s holding his breath. He’s such a huge hulk of a man—a fighter’s physique, a wall of intimidating muscle. It seems as though he was made to destroy things, to grind them to dust, and yet he can be gentle. He is so gentle when he touches me right now. His hand rises to my face, fingers skimming over my forehead, exploring an area that still throbs painfully. One of the deepest cuts from where the glass shattered all over me.
“You aren’t freaking out about this scarring,” he says. It’s not a question; it’s an observation.
I hadn’t even thought about that. My injuries really aren’t that bad. Yes, a couple of the cuts were deep enough to possibly leave a scar, but I’ve kept them clean and let the scabs form properly. I’ve just left it up to fate. If I’m meant to be left with a couple of marks, then I will be. If I’m not meant to, then I won’t. “I know a good plastic surgeon,” I tell him, smiling, though I would never consider that. Not for something so cosmetic. Zeth looks strained as he traces his fingertips down one side of my face, stroking gently over the slight cuts.
“I don’t like this, angry girl,” he informs me. I freeze, completely motionless, in a mild state of shock. The way that he’s touching me…his hands have never been like this on me before. Almost reverent. Coupled with the low, soft tone in his voice, and I’m suddenly feeling a little vulnerable.
I’m not sure I’m ready, after everything that’s happened in the past few days, to feel that way. My strength has been the only thing keeping me going; I need to cling to that a little while longer.
“Mmmm. Well I can’t say I’m entirely happy about the situation, either.” I begin to pack away the medical supplies I’ve been using during the day, replacing them carefully back into my bag. It’s good to have something to do with my hands. Much better to keep busy than to collapse under the weight of everything that’s just happened.
“We’re gonna finish our conversation from the park now,” Zeth tells me.
“What?” My head snaps up. Of all the things to talk about, I really don’t feel like rehashing that. This really isn’t the time or the place. Plus our talk in the park, well, it was awkward to say the least. I doubt I’ll ever stop feeling like I betrayed myself when I told him what I did.
“You were honest with me, Sloane. Which means you were honest with yourself. I’ve been waiting for that.”
I feel like laughing. Honest with myself? He’s completely right. You’d think it impossible to deceive yourself, to hide something and pretend you don’t know it or see it or feel it, but I’ve been doing that for years. I’m good at hiding everything. I’ve been hiding from myself, from him, from my parents. From absolutely anyone who gets remotely too close. It’s been safer that way. My parents have been happy enough to pretend I was okay, even if they could probably see for themselves that I wasn’t, and I managed to somehow trick myself into believing that if I kept busy and didn’t give up searching for Lexi then I could hide myself away and simply survive. Zeth, on the other hand…Zeth knows. He’s known all along. He knows I’m not okay, that I haven’t been okay for the longest time. He sees straight through all of my shit, and he’s known how I feel about him for a while now, too. The most infuriating thing about this whole messed-up situation is that I can’t see anything about him as clearly as he sees me. I can count on my hands how many real things I know about his past, but the fact is that I’m too scared to ask. I’m scared because he will tell me the truth, and then I’ll know everything, and I won’t be able to run and hide anymore. I’ll have to face it all. Him. That darkness inside him that both terrifies and excites me at the same time.
“Sloane.”
I stop winding the loose bandage around my hand.
“Are you going to ask me?”