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If I manage to keep my hands off her long enough to keep my brain functioning.
Smirking, I shove the cell in my back pocket. So okay, a tiny twinge of fear still jabs into my insides. I’m still out of my depth, still floundering, but Dakota doesn’t seem to mind. She laughs, pokes me in the ribs, tickles me, then kisses me and fixes everything in my world.
She’s like magic glue. Pretty, sexy, crazy super glue that keeps me together when I think I’ll break down or lose it.
I’ll buy her a fridge just for her popsicles. I’ll buy her lollipops so that her lips always taste like strawberry candy. I’ll…
Fuck. I snort to myself and shake my head. I throw my cigarette stub to the sidewalk and step on it, then turn to go back inside, when my cell beeps with a message. Grinning, I pull it out.
But it’s not from Dakota. It’s from Matt. An icy feeling grips my stomach. Good news? No way. I open and read it. It’s short and just asks if I can talk.
I’m still staring at it, trying to gather the courage to call him, when the door of the shop swings open, and Rafe steps out.
“Hey.” He ambles over to me, hands in his pockets. “Got a minute?”
Can’t find my voice. Mind still caught on the message. Maybe it is good news. Why the hell not? Why does my mind have to go directly to the bad? Maybe Emma is better. Maybe there’s been a miracle. Medical miracles happen all the time.
“Z-man?” Rafe is watching me, eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“Relax, man. The guys and I just want to ask if you could talk to Dylan.”
“Talk?” I can’t form a coherent sentence. My mind feels torn into ribbons. My thoughts are threadbare.
“Yeah, talk to him. Ask him what is wrong. He won’t talk to us, but he’ll talk to you. You know that.”
I look down at my cell. I have to call Matt. No choice. “Okay.”
“Good.” Rafe nods, still giving me a suspicious look. “You all right?”
I press my lips together and shake my head.
“Zane—”
“Not now, fucker.”
“But you—”
“Not now, dammit.”
Rafe scowls. “I’ve been asking for months, dammit. We look after each other. You said—”
“Fuck what I said. Fuck everyone.” My blood burns. My chest is tight. “I can’t look after anyone. So why don’t you fuck the hell off.”
Rafe’s mouth falls open. He pales. Then without another word, he turns around and gets back inside.
He didn’t punch me, as I thought he might. As I hoped he might, so that I don’t have to make that phone call and find out what I don’t wanna know.
My fingers tremble as I scroll through my contacts, find Matt’s number and hit ‘call.’ I reach into my pocket for my packet of cigarettes. Before I locate it, Matt answers.
“Zane.” His voice is rough as if he’s been smoking day and night. Maybe he has. “Hey.”
“Hey, man.” I try to swallow, but my throat is bone-dry. “How is everything?”
Silence stretches like elastic, longer and thinner, ever thinner, until I think my composure will snap along with it.
“Zane…” Matt’s voice cracks, and oh shit, no. No fucking way.
