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“What?” I say in horror. “But he broke his back; they have to fix it.”
“One of our dads’ special doctors is performing surgery on him now,” Hunter tells me.
I peer over my shoulder at the four-story house in the distance. “In the house?”
“Yeah …” He sucks in a breath then lets it out. “This is bad. Like, really, really bad … If they mess it up, he could maybe never walk again—”
“You want to ask me about it?” Zay asks, wrenching me from the memory.
“Ask what?” It may seem like I’m playing dumb, but I’m disoriented from the vivid … memory?
Zay tosses his phone onto the sofa and steps toward me. I’m tall, but he’s taller, and I have to tip my chin up to meet his gaze.
“The scar on my back.” He crosses his arms and stares me down. “I know you saw it.”
I press my lips together, deliberating if I dare ask him. It’s not that I’m afraid of him; I feel uncomfortable asking him about his scars when I don’t even like people seeing mine. I want answers, though, and if I don’t ask, I’ll never get anywhere.
“What happened?” I dare ask.
His eyes search me, but I'm not certain what he’s looking for. I have a few guesses, like maybe he’s trying to see if I already know the answer. I’m not positive, but I’m starting to get the impression that maybe Zay is aware that we may have used to know each other.
“My father pushed me down the stairs,” he says calmly. “Broke my back, and I had to have surgery.” He turns around to end the conversation.
“Did you have it at a hospital?” I ask, not taking the hint, my need for answers way greater. “Because that scar is gnarly. No offense.”
He pauses, his muscles raveling into knots.
He gradually turns toward me, and I wait for him to say it.
He stares at me, his gaze exploring mine again so intensely, like he can reach inside me and extract the answer with a look.
“Why would you ask that?” he questions.
“I—” I almost tell him, but something stops me, silencing the words right off my lips. I’m not sure why that keeps happening, why I just won’t say the words aloud. It’s like my mouth has been programmed not to. Well, either that or the fear of being looked at like a lunatic is too great. “I don’t know. I just …” I shrug.
His gaze is relentless, dissecting me from the outside in. “No, I didn’t go to the hospital.”
Silence trickles by, and he says nothing. The silence is making me squirmy to the point where I can’t take it anymore.
“Okay.” I turn to leave.
“Raven?” he calls out.
I pause, casting a glance over my shoulder. “Yeah?”
“You better hurry up. We have a lot of shit to do today.” With that, he kicks the door shut.
Asshole.
He’s an asshole. It’s that simple.
Well, I wish it was.
The truth is he isn’t always an asshole, like when he helped save me and when he didn’t let me take off after Hunter caught Jax and me kissing. I wonder why he’s so hot and cold. Was he always like this? I may have that answer locked away inside my mind. One day, I will have to find a way to talk to these guys about what I’m remembering; see if it’s for sure them in my surfacing memories.
It feels like it … It feels like I know them …
I reach Jax’s door then and knock. When no one answers, I assume he’s still sleeping, so I open the door and go inside. It feels a little weird to walk into his room while he’s asleep.
