And then I broke his rule and broke him.
Oh God. I bite my lip, my eyes burning. That look on his face made me want to cry. It was as if he didn’t recognize me, as if he didn’t know where he was anymore. He stumbled into the furniture as if he couldn’t see it. Like a wild animal trying to escape. What the hell was that about?
After he left, I sat and thought. I decided to talk to Erin, but she and Tyler were with her parents and their son for the weekend and not in town. Tessa was away with her parents, too. I tried to get ahold of Asher but couldn’t find his number, or Rafe’s, and I couldn’t find Audrey, either. In the end, even though I didn’t know if Zane wanted to ever see me again, I passed by his apartment, but either he wasn’t in, or he didn’t want to let me in.
I wanted to hit my head against the wall.
I bow said head, waiting for Luke and Quinn to tune their guitars, and close my eyes. What are those small scars on his back? Why does touching them freak him out?
What happened to you, Zane?
“Ready when you are,” Rafe says and gives me a drumroll and a wink.
Shooting him a weak smile, I grab my mike. The bass begins its deep, powerful beat, and I close my eyes as I feel the music and recall the words. I open my mouth and let all my frustration and worry, all my sadness and fear, all my need for Zane pour out of me. I scream, and I yell, and I soar, my body weightless, but I don’t fall. I keep rising, flying above it all like a bird.
I see me, and I see Zane. I see the way he looks at me, I see his grin, his cocky attitude and the pain in his eyes, and I know I have to find him and talk to him. I have to hold him, because he’s falling. Why doesn’t anyone else notice?
I break mid-song and open my eyes, staring at nothing. Christ. He’s falling. I have to find him.
Am I going crazy? Is it all in my mind?
This is how he’s always been, Asher said. He has his ups and downs. He has his triggers. What makes you think he’s about to go to pieces because you touched him where he didn’t want to be touched?
But that’s not it, is it? No, there’s something more, and I can’t put my finger on it.
“You okay?” Rafe asks, and I nod, my mind going in circles.
I replay in my mind Zane’s behavior, his expression. The rules he’s been breaking. He never takes a girl home, Tessa had said. Never draws on girls. Never lets them touch him.
‘This isn’t like him. He’s letting you in.’
What does it all mean?
Then Luke clears his throat and says, “Hey, do you know a guy with a Mohawk? He’s been staring at you all this time.”
Zane is here? I glance around the empty bar, and I think I catch a glimpse of a broad-shouldered back and a tell-tale Mohawk. He’s walking out of the bar.
Crap.
“Got to go,” I say and jump off the stage.
“Koko, wait! Remember the party on Wednesday,” Luke calls after me, and I don’t even bother answering.
Zane. Have to talk to him. That’s all I can think about as I run through the bar and out into the dark, without looking back.
“Zane?” My combat boots squeak on the concrete of the small parking lot behind the bar. Cars roar by—the street is only a few feet away—and the sputtering lamp over the door isn’t enough to illuminate the whole lot. “Zane, are you here?”
Maybe the guy Luke saw wasn’t him. Hell knows Zane isn’t the only guy sporting a Mohawk in this town. I don’t like being out here alone. It’s not really cold, and yet I shiver, inching back toward the door of the bar.
“Dakota,” he says from behind, and I almost jump out of my skin.
“Jesus.” I spin around to see his face.
“I liked it better when you called me Zane,” he mutters and gives a faint smile.
I laugh. I can’t help it. I’m a bundle of nerves. I put my hands over my face, afraid the laughter will turn into something ugly.
“Hey.” His voice is soft, a bit hoarse, and then his hands are over mine, pulling them down. “You okay?”
All the things I want to tell him, to ask him, and I can only shake my head. Seeing him feels good, too good.
“Listen, I…” He’s still holding my hands. He turns them over, my hands small in his, my palms white against his ink-stained ones. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” The word comes out like a cry, and I wince.
“I mean it.” His handsome face is drawn in earnest lines, his eyes looking anywhere but at me. “Sorry I freaked out, sorry I forced you to do stuff you weren’t comfortable with. I… Hell.”
He starts to pull away, and I grab at him, digging my heels in to keep him there. “Wait.”
“Dammit, Dakota, I was such a dick to you, leaving you right after…” He groans. “Shit. Didn’t mean to scare you, or hurt you.”
“I know that.” I do know it. “I wasn’t scared.”
“I hurt you, then.” He grimaces. “I knew this was a motherfucking bad idea. I shouldn’t have touched you. I’m sor—”
“Zane.” I let go of his hands and reach up to cup his face, realizing belatedly this could be another trigger. I let them drop, but he doesn’t move away. “You didn’t hurt me. I’m the one who should be apologizing.”
Now his dark eyes widen. “Whatever for?”
Is he serious? He seems to be. “For pushing you. Touching you somewhere you didn’t want to be touched. I’m the one who hurt you. I’m so sorry, Zane.”
He’s breathing hard. His hands tremble, the tremor making its way up my own arms. “You didn’t…” His voice is choked, and I want to wrap him in my arms. Yet I’m not sure he wants that. Not sure what he wants, what might freak him out and make him run away again.
“I caused you pain,” I say. I’m certain of it. I saw it on his face, in his movements that night. Only I don’t know why. “I didn’t realize.”
He says nothing. His gaze is blank, like he’s lost inside his head.
“Just tell me what I can and can’t do. Help me understand.” I lick my lips, desperate to get through to him. Desperate to hold him and comfort him, make up for the hurt I caused, the hurt I sense. “I won’t touch your back. I promise. But if those scars hurt, then you should see a doctor. I’ll go with you. I—”
“Can’t.” He jerks his hands from mine and rubs them over his face. “Told you I can’t do this.”
“Zane…”
His face scrunches up, and he presses a hand to his chest. Crap, this doesn’t look good. Whatever caused those scars seems to scare the shit out of him, and for Zane to be scared, it must have been something terrible.
I don’t know what to say. Silence fills the space between us. I have to do something, or he’ll leave again.
“Stay,” I say, aware that’s what he asked of me the first time I visited him. “Please, stay.”