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“Shit, don’t know what happened.”
Tyler is sitting with his hands hanging between his legs. He sends me a sideways look. “Sounds like you had a bad experience and certain situations remind you of it.” He makes it sound like a question.
I nod.
“It’s okay to freak out, you know,” he says. “I get that sometimes, too.”
That’s news to me. Tyler looks… solid. Totally solid. One hundred percent powerhouse. “You freak out? About things that happened to you?”
“We all do,” Zane says, and okay, my jaw is hanging slack. “See, fucker, you’ve avoided this for too long.”
“Avoided what?” I glance from him to Tyler and back. What is he talking about?
“The talk I had with the others, getting to know them. Fact is, I don’t know you half as well as I know the others. This has to change.”
Oh fuck. “Not a good idea.”
“Why’s that?”
The urge to get up and run returns. “You know enough.”
More than enough. I have no idea why he took me in, frankly, a smelly street bum with no future.
“I know a few things,” Zane admits. “I talked to Jason.”
“You did? Fuck.” I bury my face in my hands, then scrub them down. “Christ, Zane.”
Fucking hell.
But he continues as if nothing’s up. “It’s the rest I need to know. Things like this attack. Like where you lived before. Where you came from. All that shit.”
I don’t wanna talk about it. Especially not now, when every breath I take reminds me of Amber and how much I miss her, how much her anger and pain cuts into me.
But this is Zane, this is the brotherhood I owe everything to, and if Zane asks, then I’ll talk. And I do. I tell him about the attack, about Simon’s gang, about my time on the street, before and after Madison. About the boy camps, the group homes and foster families I ran away from.
By the time I’m done, my bones ache as if I’ve just gone through it all again—the beatings, the fights, the running and hiding, the violence and fear. I feel sick to my stomach.
God, I wish I could see Amber, wrap myself around her until I feel warm again. She makes the bad go away.
“That’s enough, buddy.” Tyler pats me on the back, and before I let my mouth run away with it—as if often does when I’m stressed—and ask if I get a treat for performing well, he gets up. “Need to return to the shop. See you later.”
Oh, right. Gut me, strew my insides on the ground, stomp on them, and then go back to work.
Nothing new here.
“Have fun,” I snarl and make myself move, start to stand up.
Zane’s hand snags on my wrist and keep me down. Dammit. “Not yet.”
“I need to get to work, too. I’ll be late.” And I’ve lost track of time.
“Why are you working two extra jobs? Rafe’s been asking me that. He covers your rent, so you can focus on your training. I know you need a job for your daily expenses, but, man, you’re wearing yourself out.”
“I need the money.”
“And I need you focused on your training. You’re almost there.” He rubs one shaved side of his head. “What the hell do you need more money for? Gonna buy yourself a limo and ride into the sunset?”
I laugh. Can’t help it, because that’s just… “I don’t want to go anywhere. Hell, this is the first stability I’ve had in my life.” And doesn’t that suck donkey balls? “But I figured I’d be ready for when you kick me out.”
