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He’s like a statue, firm and immoveable, showing no emotion, and no reaction to Ryker’s accusations. I feel like he’s backing away, removing himself from the situation, removing himself from me. He’s retreated within himself like he’s pretending he’s not here and this isn’t happening. I have a feeling this is how he’s handled Ryker and Debra his entire life.
My eyes fill with tears, but I don’t let a single one fall. “Please, Zane. Say something.”
He shakes his head in the negative again. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? You’re sorry?” Ryker roars. “That’s not good enough. Mila sees you for what you are now. A liar, playing with her emotions. Just so you can take what’s mine.”
Zane must know his silence makes him come across as guilty. This is killing me. I need him to say something, anything. Speak up. Put Ryker in his place. Tell me he loves me. Say this is all a mistake. That Ryker’s not telling the truth. If he would only speak, I would listen. Doesn’t he know that?
Ryker, in his element, goes on. “What’s the matter, Zane? You don’t have Dad to hide behind anymore, do you? No one will save you now.”
Why does Zane simply stand there and take it? I remember him saying that arguing with Ryker or Debra is like spitting in the wind, useless and it never ends up where you intend. I understand that philosophy. I respect it. It’s obvious Ryker wants to fight with him. He’s hungry for it. By refusing, Zane puts out the fire before it has begun. I hate that he’s lived with this all his life.
But this is different. Ryker is deliberately trying to tear us apart. Yet, Zane won’t fight for me. He won’t even speak to me.
I don’t want to be here. I can’t watch Zane behave like this. I turn to leave, to escape. To go cry my eyes out.
“Mila, wait.”
It’s Zane. He speaks.
I face him, hopeful. All I need is a few words of explanation and I’ll believe him. Something. Anything. I’ll forgive him and we’ll move on.
But he just says, “I’m sorry,” one more time.
What does that mean? He can’t explain his actions? Is he admitting guilt? Has he been lying to me? Is he not who I think he is? Has our relationship been exactly what Ryker is insinuating?
“Let her leave. She needs time to process,” Ryker hollers and continues slamming Zane, ignoring me, dismissing me.
“You came here to steal my girl, didn’t you? That was your intention from the very beginning. Admit it. You’re not in love with her. This is all just a game to you, some sort of sick competition.”
Nothing changes. Zane maintains his silence.
My heart breaks in my chest. I turn again, ready to walk away. My hand has a mind of its own. It grips the doorjamb and holds it tight, hesitating, preventing myself from leaving. I don’t want to leave Zane. No one ever stands by him, especially now that his father is unable to be there for him. He needs someone. And I want to be that someone.
I know Zane. There’s a reason why he’s not saying a word, a valid reason. I need to trust him, and not put any stock into Ryker’s accusations. He knows how to twist the truth to make a situation sound dirty, how he wants it to sound. He wants to break us up. Why am I believing anything he says?
Actually, I don’t. It’s a light bulb moment, hitting me with enough strength to stun me. Nothing that comes out of Ryker’s mouth is the truth. I will never believe anything he says.
I want to be the someone who tells Ryker to shut the heck up. Loudly and often. Not just now, all the time. I no longer care about the consequences or keeping peace in the family. Someone needs to put Ryker—and his horrible mother—in their place.
Ryker’s shouting grows louder, closer, and I hang my head. This shouldn’t be how brothers behave with one another. It breaks my heart for Zane. Calm and quiet Zane. The brother who refuses to engage, to fuel the flames of anger. I love him for it.
All at once, a blinding pain rips through my hand. At the same moment, I hear Zane yell, “NO!”
An inky blackness fills my mind, the pain in my hand so searing that I can barely react. Stunned, I turn, wondering what just happened. I fall to my knees, cradling my hand, horrified by the immediate swelling.
No. No.Please, no.
My chest heaves as I stare at my hand. I’m so shocked, I can barely react, barely comprehend what just occurred. It was so fast, so unexpected.
The door that Ryker slammed sways in front of me, still in motion from the force.
It’s not just any door. It’s a heavy twenty-minute fire door. It took strength to slam it as hard as he did. All that energy zeroed in on my hand, right at the knuckles, then bounced away, having no idea what kind of trauma it left in its path. My hand was the only thing stopping the door from clicking closed, a doorstop of the worst possible variety.
My hand, my hand.
When a response does come, it hits me hard and fast. Tears instantly pour from my eyes, blocking my vision from the horrific sight of my mangled hand.
