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“So are you going to tell me about you?” he asked casually. “Or no?”
I expected to stiffen, as always. Instead, for some reason, I still felt relaxed.
“What do you wanna know?”
“Whatever you want to tell me,” Zane said simply.
I gazed up lazily at the popcorn ceiling. Trying to form patterns and images in the back of my mind.
“I’m from the south,” I began slowly. “But you knew that already. I came up here for a change of scenery. To break ties and settle down someplace new,” I shrugged, “and Salem fit the bill.”
Zane yawned into the shadows of his bedroom, then kissed me on the forehead. “I can relate to that.”
“Being a palm-reader,” I went on, “this seemed like a lucrative place to go. Lots of tourist traffic, looking to spend money. Good work all year round, but especially in the fall. Especially now.”
“And especially where your shop is,” Zane offered. “Right in the middle of the street fair.”
“Yeah. That too.”
I slid a leg over him, feeling the warmth and wetness of our lovemaking. Zane dropped a hand on my thigh, where it fit perfectly.
“The guys told me you were a foster child.”
“Uh huh.”
“Mind if I ask…” he began hesitantly, “what happened to—”
“My parents were hopeless drug addicts,” I said. “They couldn’t stop. They lost custody of me very early on, and never looked back.”
“Shit,” Zane swore.
“Yeah, it was definitely shit,” I agreed. “Luckily I was taken in by my grandmother, at least for a while. Those were good years. Happy years. But then my grandmother kicked off, too. I came home from school one day and found her still in bed from the night before. She just never woke up.”
“Fuck. Ho
w old were you?”
“I was in fourth grade,” I answered. “So I was nine.”
Zane’s arm stiffened, clutching me protectively. Bringing me even tighter against him.
“That’s miserable Savannah,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. Shit happens.”
He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t pressing. He was only holding me. It made me want to tell him more, though how much more I really didn’t know.
“Things eventually got bad for me down there,” I said abruptly. “Down south.” I swallowed hard. “I came up here to get away from it all. So if I sometimes sound like I’m avoidin—”
“No,” said Zane. “Don’t do that. You don’t have anything to explain.” He turned to face me on the pillow. We were eye to eye. Nose to nose. Our lips practically touching, which only made me want to kiss him some more.
“You tell us what you want to tell us,” said Zane. “That’s all. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
Now he did kiss me, pressing his lips to mine. It was soft and sweet. Over within seconds.
My stomach couldn’t help but roll excitedly at his use of the word “us.”
“We’re just really glad you’re here.”
