Until the biggest category of the night began, almost an hour later.
By now, he was used to the emcee’s drama, so he barely registered when she announced the “Best Full-Length High Fantasy nominees!” But then he noticed that Rae was holding her breath, a familiar mixture of nerves and near-excitement in her avid gaze. He started paying attention to the awards again just in time to hear the final nominee: “…And, Kevin Cummings with Everlee.”
He saw the image on the screen, and his blood turned thick and sluggish in his veins. He knew that book. He’d seen it. It was the book he’d picked up from Rae’s luggage on their first day here, the one she’d snatched out of his hands. Something cold crept over his skin. Rae watched the stage like her life depended on it, but Zach… Zach watched her face.
The emcee opened a shiny envelope and joked, “Drumroll, please!” There was a weighty pause before she beamed, crowing, “And the winner is: Everlee by Kevin Cummings!”
Rae bloomed with sheer joy.
It was the kind of happiness no-one else would even notice, carefully controlled and quickly suppressed. But sometimes it felt like there was a direct line between Zach’s heart and Rae’s hidden feelings, so he couldn’t have missed it if he’d tried. Her applause was polite, and her smile was stiff, but he saw the flash of pleasure in her eyes, lighting her up inside like a firework. He knew what it meant when the edge of her mouth curled that way, the restrained excitement it signified. She was ecstatic. Beside herself. Over the fucking moon. All because Kevin had won.
She might as well have punched Zach in the gut.
He straightened in his seat, swallowed hard, and tried to explain this away. Tried to tell himself, for the thousandth time, that he knew this or he sensed that. Except, even when he wracked his mind, he couldn’t find a damned scrap of knowledge about Rae that would explain such a reaction.
Well. Except for one awful possibility. Maybe, for whatever reason, she still wasn’t over Kevin.
The idea was ridiculous, until it wasn’t. Zach’s memories shifted, took on another dimension, as if he’d never seen the full story until now. From the start, Rae had been worried about bumping into her ex and his new wife. She’d latched on to the fake boyfriend idea with surprising ease. The one time they’d actually met Kevin, she’d come out of the situation furious with Zach rather than her shitty ex. And now, here she was, losing it over the guy’s book. Which, apparently, she carried around with her like some kind of lucky charm.
Understanding was an icy trickle down Zach’s spine. Finally, he realised just how foolish he’d been. Rae had said from the start that she wasn’t interested in relationships, but he’d pushed and pushed and pushed, with actions if not with words. He’d decided they had some unspoken connection, that she was simply skittish, and he was—what, fixing her? Healing all her wounds with the magic of good sex and conversation? God, what fucking arrogance. What absolute delusion. She’d probably given up trying to smack him over the head with the truth. Must have decided it was easier to let him build fantasies around friendship and fucking.
Except… Zach dragged his thoughts under control with an iron fist, forcing himself not to get carried away. Tonight, Rae had made it clear that she wanted him in more ways than one. Maybe there hadn’t been any confessions of love, but he knew her, and he knew what she’d meant. So, he wouldn’t lose his shit and make assumptions. He’d stop fucking around, sit her down, and ask her. They’d finally talk like actual adults, and he would know for sure what this thing was.
The thought, sensible and logical as it may be, didn’t make him feel any better. Didn’t soothe the hot, prickling well of his panic or stop worries racing through his mind. He tried to reassure himself, to remember that Kevin was a toxic, controlling prick, and that last night in bed, Rae had been so different. But what did different really mean? This was the problem. Zach had almosts and possiblys and sex-soaked hints; Rae and Kevin had an entire marriage. A shitty marriage, from the sound of things—but love didn’t always make sense. Sometimes saplings survived in wastelands.
And sometimes hope wasn’t enough.
Something was wrong with Zach.
Rae’s shoulders were cold and bare where his arm should rest. Her side missed the press of his body. Her mood dipped without regular shots of his smile. During the final hour of the ceremony, he clapped with robotic stiffness and held himself distant from her, while she worried and watched the clock. A handful of hours ago, she’d believed that this ceremony would be the worst kind of torture. And now, it was—but not for the reasons she’d expected.
In fact, concern for Zach aside, she felt kind of… powerful tonight. Maybe it was the stern pep talk she’d given herself in the bathroom before coming down. The one where she’d decided it was time to be truly brave, to tell Zach outright that she adored him, that she wanted to build something real and romantic with him. Something that felt impossible but might actually work.
Or maybe her iron spine came from the ceremony itself, and the knowledge that she’d made it. That she deserved to be here, and that this world wasn’t Kevin’s—it was hers.
Whatever the reason, she was eager to grab her happiness, and that happiness was Zach. So, when the ceremony wound up, she rushed her way through conversation with Neil and a few other writers. Congratulated acquaintances, accepted consolations, and clutched Zach’s cool, stiff hand as if they could communicate through their skin. It didn’t work.
She was so desperate to fix whatever had turned him to stone, she couldn’t even wait to drag him upstairs. Instead, she tugged him into a semi-private alcove, turning away from the crowd to cup his cheek. “What’s wrong?”
He tilted his head, just enough to shake her off. The movement was so subtle it might have been an accident, but something in her chest constricted.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he said, but he was a terrible liar. It might’ve been funny if fear weren’t scuttling over her like spiders.
“Clearly it’s something,” she said, moving closer. But he flinched away, and she froze. Froze, curled up inside, and died. Still, she managed to speak calmly through sheer force of will. “You’re upset. Please tell me why.”
“This is your night,” he murmured. “We’ll do this another time. Tomorrow.”
For a moment, she thought that he knew—but of course he didn’t. He couldn’t. “Oh, come on. It’s not like I won.” She laughed, and meant it, because the fact didn’t bother her. Not anymore.
But Zach sighed, shook his head, and said, “Exactly,” as if she were seconds from a tragic breakdown. For heaven’s sake.
“It doesn’t matter what tonight is,” she frowned. “You can’t put your feelings on hold to avoid disrupting other people. Or maybe you can, but you shouldn’t, and I don’t want you to. Please, Zach. Tell me what’s wrong.”
An expression she couldn’t quite read passed over his face, something indefinable but achingly sad. Then he asked, “Are you still in love with Kevin?”
She jerked back, shocked. “No, I’m not. Why would you say that?”
“You have his book.” Zach’s voice was quiet but powerful, like the hiss of explosive gas from a broken pipe. “I saw it. You tried to hide it, remember? But I know it’s in your suitcase, and I saw how happy you were when he won—”
“No,” Rae interrupted through numb lips. “No.” But she could see he didn’t believe her. She wanted to shout, How could you think I give a damn about Kevin when I’m in love with you? But then she remembered the crowd.
Oh, God, the crowd.
Why had she pushed? Her horrified gaze slid out toward the mass of people that filled the room. Already, a few groups eyed them curiously. Something inside her shrivelled up.
“Rae,” Zach said. “This thing between us—I know I came here as a favour, but when I touched you, I meant it. And I told myself you meant it, too. The truth is, I… I’m not attracted to you just because we’re friends. I have feelings for you. I’ve been making a lot of e
xcuses to stay silent about that, to avoid demanding something you can’t give. I’ve never wanted to push you. But I can’t explain this away.” He watched her with burning, hopeful eyes, as if she might leap in and fix his confusion with just a few words. Christ, he’d just confessed to having feelings for her. This was the perfect moment to admit everything, to finally be honest with him and with herself.
But the declarations she’d practiced in the bathroom mirror were frozen on her lips, scared off by the excruciating exposure of this situation. She hadn’t been prepared for conflict, or for Zach to drag at secrets she couldn’t possibly share—never mind for his confession, as wonderful as it was. Her heart pounded, her palms began to sweat, and she felt familiar panic lap at her mind like waves against the shore.
“If you don’t still care about Kevin, why do you have his book?” Zach asked, soft but urgent. “I need you to tell me. Can you do that?”
She heard the words he’d never say, the ones she deserved. Can you do that single fucking thing for me? It’s not like you’ve done anything else.
She wanted to. So badly. But then, over Zach’s shoulder, she caught sight of Kevin moving through the room, grinning wide and shaking hands, accepting congratulations. The past seemed so close all of a sudden.
“I can’t,” she whispered. “Not right now. Can’t you—just—trust me?”
Zach’s gaze remained wary, but something about him seemed to unfurl, as if his soul were turning toward hers again. He asked in turn, “Do you trust me?”
She laughed, high-pitched and a little hysterical. She didn’t mean to; it just happened, a reflexive response to a preposterous question. Of course Rae didn’t trust him—she loved him. The two things never mixed.
But Zach clearly didn’t see the humour. She watched him ice over before her eyes, cold, cold, cold. Her laughter died in her throat, and she realised all at once how badly she was fucking this up. As always.
He spoke quietly, his voice hard. “You won’t ever trust me, will you?”
“I—” She hadn’t thought about it. She couldn’t think about it. “I don’t know. It’s not that simple. But Zach, if you just—”
“No.” The word was sharp, like it had burst out of him without permission. Then he repeated, softer, slower. “No, Rae. I think I’ve been fooling myself this weekend. Filling in all your gaps. But I don’t want to be that person anymore.”
The gentleness in his voice knocked the air out of her lungs. Filling in her gaps. That sounded about right—and she had so fucking many. Must be so exhausting. But still, selfishly, she whispered, “Please.”
“I’m leaving,” he said. “Tonight. I think that’s for the best.”
Chapter 15
Heading home had been the smartest choice.
So what if Rae had seemed so alone, standing separate amongst a crowd as she watched Zach walk away? And so what if he’d thought he glimpsed pain in those helpless, hypnotic eyes? Of course she was hurt. They cared about each other—but clearly not enough, and Zach was exhausted by the constant imbalance in his relationships. He’d shoved down his feelings, rage or despair or discomfort, for so many people, just to make them happy. But he refused to hide love or longing. He refused to accept lust and affection without trust. He refused to make himself right for Rae. Not because she wasn’t important enough, but because she was everything.
It hurt too much.
So, he had made a clean break. And yet, three days later, Zach didn’t feel clean at all. He was blazing with anger at nothing in particular, or maybe at himself. His mind was all jagged edges, torn-up bits and pieces of the man he wanted to be. He stood under his shower’s scalding hot spray after a long day at work, muscles screaming almost as loud as his head. While the water ran into his eyes, he stared blankly at the tiles and tried not to think about Rae.
Rae, Rae, Rae.
Maybe he should’ve noticed that she had feelings for Kevin. Maybe, if he’d pulled his head out of his arse—no, out of her arse—for five seconds, he would’ve.
He twisted the shower off a bit harder than necessary, ignoring the screech of his shitty, old plumbing. The floorboards creaked as he dried off and got dressed, reminding him of Rae’s horror at his ‘serial killer house’. The memory made him want to smile, which made him want to fucking cry. He was a fool. He was a mess. He was in love, and he was furious about it. So furious that he simply stood for a moment, staring at nothing, wondering how to handle this.
His first thought was to calm down, take deep breaths, and let the moment pass. But it had been days now, and this ‘moment’ wasn’t passing at all. In fact, he didn’t want it to. Sitting with it, feeling it, felt raw and real and right.
And he had a feeling that talking about it might feel even better.
He was moving before the thought had fully formed. Striding over to his bedside table, picking up his phone, navigating to a much-observed and never-contributed-to forum whose black and purple display had grown so familiar over the months. Before he could think better of it, Zach hit ‘Create’ to start a brand-new thread. Then, his chest heaving with the quickening breaths he’d barely even noticed, he stared down at the screen.
Title, it said. Type here, it said.
What the fuck did he want to say?
The words came out eventually, halting and laboured—but that didn’t matter, because once it was over, it was over. He’d typed out the truth, and it didn’t look any less honest just because his hands had been shaking as he’d done it.
I’m Angry
I fell in love. She hurt me. What do I do now? I don’t know, and I’m not in the mood to figure it out.
He pressed Send, then squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth against a sudden rush of nervous energy. Had he seriously just done that? Yes. Yes, he had.
Well, fuck it. Might as well comment on the DC thread, too.
Zach sat on his bed, found the thread, and finally let himself comment the way he’d long wanted to. Just slid in as if he had a right to be there, offering his opinion on the Netflix adaptation of Teen Titans (which was surprisingly good). Because he did have a right to be there. Taking up that kind of space, even just online, felt almost perfect. He found himself smiling slightly for the first time in a while, imagining how he’d tell Rae—
No. No, he wouldn’t tell Rae. He couldn’t tell her anything. And just like that, some of his pleasure dimmed.
He missed her. He missed her so much that when the slow, haunting chime of his doorbell rang five minutes later, he let himself imagine it was Rae. That she’d come over to say something, anything, the perfect thing—the thing that would prove him wrong. She’d throw herself into his arms and whisper magic words in his ear, and then maybe she’d propose because she was just that overwhelmed by her feelings for him. He’d say yes, and Duke would be the ring bearer at their wedding, and she’d wear a thousand tiny braids in her hair.
It was an excellent fantasy that lasted about as long as it took Zach to jog down the stairs, open his door, and find his brother and his best mate on the doorstep.
“Oh,” he said, disappointed but not particularly surprised. “It’s you.”
Nate rolled his eyes and shoved his way into the house, grim as a big, pale crow. Evan followed with a smile and a warm, “Alright, mate?”
“What do you want?” Zach asked, trying to sound less dead inside. It was something he’d been working on over the last few days, ever since that late-night, last-minute train back from Manchester. He hadn’t gotten the hang of it yet.
Nate stared at him for a moment, then nodded at Evan. “You were right. He’s all… grey.”
“I know,” Evan said sadly. “And he hasn’t been sneaking off to meet Rae every morning.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. “I don’t sneak. And if I’m grey,” he glared at his brother, “it’s because we’re both ridiculously pale and I haven’t been taking my vitamins. Go away.”
Instead of obeying like a good sibling, Nate wandered
off into the living room, Evan bringing up the rear like a labrador with a disturbing independent streak.
Zach wondered how Duke was doing, then shut down that train of thought before he could wonder how Rae was doing, or if she missed him. It didn’t matter if she missed him. He couldn’t be around her anymore. He was working really hard on not being in love with her, and he knew for a fact that if he saw her smile or heard her voice, all his efforts would be wasted.
Of course, Ravenswood was a small town, and they shared the same friends, so he was probably doomed. Maybe he should give up and accept his fate: eternally unrequited adoration. Zach sighed, followed Nate and Evan into the living room, and sank into his favourite armchair like a sack of bones and despair.
Evan’s brows rose. “I’m glad we came. Obviously, we’re not a moment too soon.”
“What are you talking about?” Zach asked, then muttered, “Actually, I don’t care. Piss off.”
“This is an intervention,” Nate said in his Firm and Fatherly voice. It didn’t work on his kids, and it wasn’t working on Zach, either.
“Piss. Off.”
Nate’s expression softened, a worried crease appearing between his brows. “Zach. Do you need help?”
Fuck. That wasn’t a question Zach could brush off, because he and Nate had promised each other—with good reason—to always answer it honestly, so he forced himself to breathe. To sort through his emotions. He found a tempest inside himself, all rage and pain and soul-deep disappointment, but that was it. He was heartbroken, but he wasn’t depressed, so he wasn’t in any particular danger.
That Kind of Guy Page 18