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I enter Damage, and I see Zane behind the desk. I lift my hand in greeting and he glances my way briefly, not giving any acknowledgment.
Weird. A slight pressure builds in my chest, and I rub it, wondering what’s going on.
“Hey,” I say, stepping behind the desk. “Zane. Welcome back.”
“Hey.” His voice is tight, not angry but… colorless. Neutral.
I want to ask if he’s okay, but he doesn’t seem to be in a talking mood. So I get to work and leave him in peace. I resist the urge to check my cell phone for a text from Erin every five minutes, though I cave in and check after ten.
No message.
I try not to read anything into it. Maybe she’s with those snotty brats she’s teaching Spanish. Maybe I should learn some Spanish, too.
And why would you wanna do that? that annoying tiny voice in my mind demands to know, and I flip it off.
Because Erin’s family speaks Spanish. Because she speaks Spanish. Do I need more reasons? Nope. End of internal discussion.
Finally, my cell beeps, and I grab it to see what Erin says. I have plans to take her out to a nice place to eat her favorite—Italian—and then take her to bed and make love to her, slow and patient until she begs me to let her come. And then again. And again.
‘Can’t make it tonight,’ her message reads. ‘Something came up.’
I drop the cell on the desk and rake my hands through my hair. The feeling of wrongness intensifies. What the hell’s going on tonight?
Calm down. I lift my cell and suck a deep breath. So what if I made plans? Something came up. She said so. Could be anything.
‘Anything I can help with?’ I type.
‘No. Thanks for offering!’
I stare at the words on the screen of my cell, my mind buzzing. I can’t shake the bad feeling in my gut, dammit.
‘Sure,’ I type and put the cell down carefully, before I throw it against the wall.
She’d tell me if there was something wrong, wouldn’t she? I told her everything about me, and she seemed okay with it all. She’d tell me if she didn’t want to be…
With me.
Did I ask her?
Wanna be with me? Be my girlfriend once more? Do you trust me not to run away, not to fuck this up again?
Goddammit.
I feel an intense stare on the back of my neck and turn to find Zane looking at me, his hands shoved in his pant pockets. His expression is no longer neutral. He looks… guilty.
What the fuck?
“You talking to Erin?” He lifts his chin, like a challenge.
I shrug, though my chest feels compressed. “Yeah, why?”
“You meeting with her tonight?”
“No. She says something came up.”
His brows draw together, and his forehead creases. He sucks on the barbell in his tongue. “I see.”
“You see? What the hell do you see?” Anger is building up like a storm waiting to break loose. I get up and stalk around the desk. “Say it.”
