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“I’ll go find Manon,” Cassie says.
So I follow him inside and there is Seth, pacing the room, fists held at his sides. The moment I enter, he whirls around and throws himself at me.
I stumble back, lift my arm to protect myself.
And find myself in a bear hug that’s crushing my ribs. “Son of a bitch, you had me worried sick. Fuck.”
I blink, Seth still muttering curses on my shoulder. Over his, I have a clear view of Zane’s smirk.
Seth pulls back, but keeps a vise-like grip on my arm, as if I’m gonna fucking try and bolt if he lets go.
He may be right. I didn’t want an audience for what I have to admit and ask. Not the guy who gave me a chance at his tattoo shop.
Just my luck.
“What did you wanna tell me?” Seth asks. “Why did you go out? What happened?”
I fold my arms over my chest, still in my borrowed jacket, and lift my chin. “Long story. But there’s something I need to ask you.” I try to avoid Zane’s gaze and end up staring at the heavy desk that’s covered in heaps of papers and books. I draw a deep breath, force the question out. “Am I going crazy?”
Seth’s face has gone white. “Why the fuck would you ask me that?”
“Because I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind, that’s why.”
“What’s going on?” Seth is in my face now, Zane looming right behind him. “Why you asking? What the hell happened?”
“It’s getting worse, Seffers.” My voice cracks. I lick my lips, my throat bone-dry. “These flashbacks… the panic attacks. And I’m…” Have to stop again, try to swallow. My throat clicks. “I’m paranoid. I think someone’s out to get me.”
“Nobody’s out to get you, man.”
I nod. There, my goddamn fears all confirmed. “Christoph and Marco… They’re still in prison, aren’t they? It’s not that they were released, and you didn’t tell me. You’re keeping tabs.”
“You know I am. They’re exactly where they were last time, where they deserve to be: behind fucking bars.”
I’m lightheaded. The relief is huge, but then that means that I’ve lost it. Nobody tried to hurt me. It’s all in my fucking mind.
“What do you mean it’s getting worse?” Seth asks. “How?”
“After we got off the streets, starting training at Damage Control,” I glance at Zane whose face is drawn in tight lines, “I got better. I didn’t have a flashback in months. And then suddenly, these past couple of months I had five at work, and more at home.”
“You’ve had flashbacks over the year,” Zane says. “It’s not the first time you flipped out. And it’s okay, fucker. It’s not like I don’t get them sometimes.”
I gape at him. He does? And I had flashbacks at Damage Control? What the hell?
But I can’t remember. Except… except I remember standing outside with Zane, I remember his hand heavy on my shoulder, his words echoing in my ears. It will be okay. You’re okay here.
Jesus fuck. That lightheaded feeling is back, black chewing away at the edges of my vision.
“Why don’t you sit down, Shane?” Zane says. “You don’t look so good, man.”
“I’m fine.” I glance back at Seth, silently pleading with him to understand what I’m trying to say.
But what he says is, “I
know what happened to you in prison. I know everything. I failed you.”
“You know? You knew all this time?” What the fuck? As for failing me… How can he think that?
“Why would you think someone’s after you?” Seth asks, and I do my best to focus on his question.
