by Jo Raven
“Scares the fucking shit out of me,” Zane admits quietly. “Thinking the nightmares might be true. That they’re more than dreams, and even worse, that he’s fucking here, that—”
“I know.”
Here, in my hands, might lie proof that his worst fears—and mine, now—are true. That what he went through as a child wasn’t something his mind made up.
“But maybe here is proof that it was just a nightmare,” I mutter. “Wouldn’t you rather know?”
“Fuck.” He licks his lips, swallows hard. “What’s in the damn folder?”
A pack of legal documents and forms, with names and addresses, ordered chronologically.
The foster and group homes Zane passed from until his sister adopted him, and I have to swallow down the bitterness welling in my throat when I think how hard this has to have been for him as a child.
One thing the small pile of documents doesn’t contain is a name that sounds like Tyre or Tyrell.
“Where’s the Wausau address?” I mutter to myself. I turn the pages, scan everything. Some names have addresses attached, but I don’t see the name of the town. “Fuck. Where is it?”
“What?”
I shake the papers at him. “The house in Wausau. No Wausau. There’s nothing about it there.”
His brows draw over his eyes, and spots of color appear on his pale cheeks. “What the hell are you saying, Ash? That I lied to you?”
“No, man. Dammit, no, what I’m saying is, what if you remember wrong? What if it wasn’t there?”
“It was there,” Zane snaps. “I remembered, fuck, I recognized the neighborhood, the tree…”
“But not the house. Was that the house, Z-man?”
He shakes his head, his lips turning white. His hands clench in his lap. “I’m not sure. Fuck, Ash, I’m not sure.”
I drop the folder on the bench beside me and knock my head back on the wall. “Oh man.”
“I’m crazy,” Zane whispers, his eyes kinda wide. “I’ve gone fucking crazy. Tyler was right, I’ve made everything up. And I’m… relieved. I’m done with this shit.”
Can’t disagree with him on this. For him, and for the world. Thank fuck he was wrong.
On the heels of that realization comes another. What he needs is not a police investigation, it’s a psychiatrist. This is strangely anticlimactic, but at least it’s an answer.
I should be content with it. Or at least relieved, like Zane is.
Then why does that bad feeling persist, twisting my stomach into knots?
Chapter Thirteen
Audrey
Scott is asleep, and I turn off the light in his room, then tiptoe to our bedroom next door. Ash is sitting on our bed, bare-chested, his back to the wall, his eyes closed.
I stand in the doorway for a long moment, looking at him, taking in his sculpted torso and arms, his beautiful face, his silky dark hair that’s sticking up in small spikes. The light from the bedside lamp gilts the powerful planes and ridges of his chest, the strong lines of his face.
“Auds,” he says, and I realize then that his eyes aren’t closed, a faint glimmer of pale blue barely visible under his lashes.
“Hey.” I undress quickly, and his gaze never leaves me, a hot laser point moving over my legs, my tummy, my breasts, my arms, my face. “You’re quiet tonight.”
He shrugs his big shoulders, his dragon tattoo rippling with the movement, and I realize I’ve paused, my nightie in one hand, still in my bra, practically drooling over him.
Over my husband.
Hey, husband or not, my man is seriously hot.
His mouth lifts in a grin, and now he knows it, too. He didn’t use to think anything of himself before. Two years ago, when we got back together, he hid his powerful body rather than show it because of the scars on his back.
Because his father had made him feel unwanted and undesirable, and now he knows how much I want and desire him.
A whole lot. More than anyone else. More than anything else in the world.
He winks at me. “Come here.”
I obey, the nightie dropping from my hand to the floor. I get on the bed and crawl toward him.
“Fuck…” His eyes darken as he tilts his head back, watching me. “If you could see yourself, girl. Hottest woman ever.”
Smiling, I straddle his legs, and he locks his arms around my back, pressing our bodies together. His mouth captures mine, and between my legs I feel him, long and rock hard inside his thin boxer briefs.
He kisses me like I’m oxygen and he’s suffocating, sucking on my mouth, on my tongue, licking and biting and possessing me. I moan against his lips, caught by surprise in this storm of desire and need.
My need for him, and even more his for me. He lifts me off him and lays me down on the mattress in one fluid movement, bending over me and smoothing the hair away from my face. He leans in until our foreheads touch.
“Christ, Auds…”
I stroke his rough cheek, cup his face. “What is it?”
“Can’t stop the noise inside my head.” He sighs, still pressed between my legs, steadying himself with his hands on either side of me on the bed. “Can’t find the quiet.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not, I…” He shakes his head. “I should let it go.”
“Ash.” I wind my arms around his neck and pull my beautiful, lovely husband in for a quick kiss. “It’s normal to be upset.”
“I’m not fucking upset.” He huffs, closes his eyes and bows his head. “Okay, I am.”
He sits up and scoots back, rubbing a hand over his chest, and I try not to drool at the sight of him like that—the bunching pecs, the bulging biceps, the clenched six-pack—because he’s unhappy, and all I want is to make him feel better.
“I was so sure it was all true,” he whispers. “That those horrible things really happened to him, but they didn’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Nothing checks out. Not the name, not the house, not…” His voice has risen a little, and he glances at the door.
“Don’t worry about Scott. He’s fast asleep.”
He nods. “Tyler was right. His mind created a story to fill in the gaps of his past. I should be relieved.”
“Ash, he still had a hellish childhood. You can’t blame him for it.”
“I’m not blaming him! Fuck…” He lets his hand drop to his side. “How could I? I’m upset because I’m worried about him in a different way. Why did he have a relapse? Why now?”
“Getting married and having babies is stressful for some people,” I remind him. “You were stressed when I got pregnant, and also when Scott was born.”
“Yeah,” he admits, so low I barely hear it.
“So it could be that. Or anything else. Triggers are like that. You don’t always identify them.”
“How do you know so much about them?”
I shrug. “I talked to Tyler a lot when he first came back. He told me a lot about triggers.”
Ash tenses, and I curse myself inwardly for reminding him of other stressful times. “So… you think I shouldn’t be worried about Zane?”
“I think you shouldn’t feel guilty.”
He flinches, and I know I’ve put my finger on the source of his unease. “It’s as if I… as if I didn’t do enough to help him, to solve the mystery, and…”
“But there was no mystery after all.” I frown at him. “Was there? You just said it was all in Zane’s mind.”
“Yeah.” But something isn’t sitting well with him, that much is obvious. He’s not convinced.
“I thought you were sad that Zane had a relapse.” I sit up, too, to look him in the eye. “I thought you’d be upset that he’ll go to see a psychiatrist. That it was all in his head. But instead you’re upset because you weren’t able to prove he was right, that he’d been abused as a child. What gives? Why?”
“Because…something’s bugging me.” Ash’s gaze is clear like glass, cutting me deep, ho
nest and bright, making the shadows lurking in it all the darker. “But fuck, for the life of me, Auds… I can’t tell what it is.”
***
Megan looks amazing in her wedding gown. Kayla, Ocean’s girl and our resident fashion designer, stands back, hands on her hips, giving it a critical look.
“Turn.”
Megan turns in a slow circle. The red fabric molds over her curves, the skirt flaring over her hips, gold thread circling her waist.
“Beautiful,” I breathe.
Megan splays her hands under her breasts. “It doesn’t make my tummy look big? I swear, it’s never going to be flat again.”
Shaking my head, I stifle a snort, because I’d been waiting for my tummy to get flat again, only there’s no chance of it happening now. “You look great, honestly.”
“Not to brag,” Kayla drawls a little, eyes half-closed as she surveys her work, “I did a good job.”
Megan lifts a brow.
Kayla laughs. “And you’re super pretty, so stop fretting.” She brushes invisible lint from the front of the dress. “Rafe will be drooling all over you. Maybe I should add a towel to the ensemble.”
That finally makes Megan laugh, and I glance around, searching for Dakota. She was here a moment ago, I swear.
I go looking for her. Megan and Rafe’s apartment is spacious with tall ceilings and big windows opening over the city. A thin baby wail leads me toward what turns out to be a TV room. Dakota is sitting on the couch, the baby in her arms. She’s staring off into space, rocking her son gently.
“Hey. Couldn’t find you.” I sit down beside her. “Megan has tried on her dress, and Erin will arrive any moment now to try on hers. Don’t you want to see?”
She draws in an unsteady breath. “What’s the use?”
“The use of what?”
“All this. Weddings. Dresses. Having fun. I can’t…” Her head dips. “Can’t pretend everything’s okay anymore.”
“Oh, girl…” My heart is so heavy. I put my arm around her. “You don’t have to pretend. Not with us. Would you rather go home?”
“No.”
I frown. “Did something else happen?”
“He’s not okay, Audrey.” Her voice hitches. “He can’t sleep. He can’t function right. He’s so tired he can’t walk straight. Today he told Rafe to cancel his appointments at the shop again. His hands are shaking too badly to ink.”
Oh God. I drag her to my side, pull her until she’s leaning against me. “Did he go to see the therapist?”
“He did. Do you…?” She sniffles and it breaks my heart. “Do you believe it, too?”
“Believe what?”
“That it’s all in his mind?”
I freeze, Asher’s words of doubt from two nights ago echoing in my mind. “I guess? I mean, the guys checked what he told them. The name, the house, the car… things didn’t seem to check out, girl.”
“I know that. But how could his mind make up such a terrible story? Is it normal? Why would it?”
Sighing, I rub her back. “I don’t know. Honestly, I have no clue about such things. I was hoping the therapist would have an idea.”
“She gave him pills to sleep… and to calm him down. They make him sluggish and drowsy.” She sighs. “It hurts to see him like this.”
“I know.” God, I know. I can feel her pain, his pain, like a blade lodged between my ribs.
No wonder Ash keeps rubbing at his chest. Can’t imagine how he feels.
The doorbell rings, and I hear the girls’ happy voices ring out as they usher Erin inside. Not sure I want to move just yet, though.
Emmanuel makes a small gurgling sound, and Dakota pulls away from me to stroke his cheek. “Shush,” she whispers. “We’ll be okay.”
I wonder if she believes it.
***
Erin looks stunning in her cream gown. Her skin tone is paler than Megan’s, but the cream works for her, and she looks more radiant than ever.
I haul both her and Megan to me. “Kay, take a photo of us!” Dakota peeks into the room, the baby asleep in her arms, and I lift a hand to beckon to her. “Dakota, come over here!”
She shakes her head, and I let it go, managing a genuine smile as Kayla takes the pic.
“You guys…” Kayla winks. “I have a feeling this is gonna be great.”
“The weddings?” I ask, glancing at the door when the bell rings again.
“Everything,” she says.
“Read that in the cards?” I ask as I head over to see who’s ringing.
That’s Kayla’s hobby, or gift, depending who you ask. Reading the future in the cards, or coffee, or our palms, although she isn’t so into it anymore, not since she got together with Ocean.
Says she doesn’t need to predict the future, not if she can discover it together with him, one day at a time. Seems to work for them just fine.
“Tess?” I open the door and let her inside. She looks kinda frazzled, her blond hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, her lipstick smeared as if she wiped her hand over her mouth at some point. “What’s up? We weren’t expecting you today.”
“Heya. I know I said I wasn’t coming over, but…” Her eyes are red-rimmed, I realize, her mascara smudged.
I take a step toward her. “Tess?”
“I had a fight. With Dylan.”
I open my arms, and she all but runs into them—then pulls back with a horrified gasp. “Oh God, the baby, did I crush you?”
“Don’t worry so much about that, girl.”
I steer her toward the sofa, seat her down and look up to find three sets of wide eyes on me.
“Baby?” Dakota breathes. “You’re pregnant, Audrey?”
Heat seeps into my face. “Yeah. I thought the guys told you after Asher spilled the beans to them.”
Three heads shake in the negative.
Damn.
The blush burns hotter. “Well… There you go.”
Erin squeals and throws herself at me, grabbing me and swinging me around. “I will be an aunt again!”
I laugh, and then it’s Megan’s turn to hug me, and then Dakota gives me a one-armed hug together with baby Emmanuel.
Kayla is grinning at us. “Good feeling, guys. Told you.”
Then I glance down at Tessa again, and heaviness crashes over me. How does that—or Zane’s troubles—fit into this happy picture?
I sit down beside Tess and take her hand. “Want to talk?”
She shakes her head.
“We could go someplace quiet.” I glance up at the other girls, hoping they understand. “Just you and me.”
“I don’t even know what we fought over anymore,” Tess says, wiping at her eyes. “Don’t know what’s happening.”
I put my arm around her and pat her hair. Seems all I do these days is comfort my friends. What the heck is going on with my world?
And how do I fix it?
Chapter Fourteen
Asher
I swing by Damage Control, hauling Scott out of his car seat and into my arms, to check on things. I haven’t seen the guys for a couple of days, not since I went with Zane to the agency, and I need to talk to them about it. See what they think, what’s on their minds.
Need to check on Zane, see if he’s doing all right. Had to be a shock, finding out things might not be as he remembered them.
Hell, it was a shock to me. I’m still reeling.
Scott is babbling something, tugging on my hair, as I push the door open and step into the shop. Faint music is playing over the speakers, something Celtic that reminds me of Audrey. That’s her kind of music, and it relaxes me a little.
I don’t immediately see anyone. The front desk is empty. Where’s Tyler?
“Anyone here?” I call out, and Scott pats my face, leaving drooly imprints on my cheek and making a sad face. “Yeah, buddy, it’s okay. I’m okay.”
Kissing his hand, which results in him pulling it back instantly and laughing, I go around the desk to check inside the
booths.
I find Micah, the one blond tattoo artist of the shop, cleaning his equipment. He turns around, startled, when I knock on the partition. “Asher. Hey, man.”
“Hey. Where’s everyone?”
“At the back, in Rafe’s office. Having a meeting.”
“About what?”
He rolls his shoulders in a sort of shrug, his blue eyes wide. “About Zane, from what I figured out.”
Fuck.
Stalking around the booths, I make my way to the back and throw the door open. A chair screeches on the floor, and Rafe gives me a long, narrow-eyed look from behind the desk. Tyler is there, and Dylan.
“Forgot to invite me to the party?” I drawl, and Scott claps his hands happily.
I swear, I love this kid, and he sometimes gets my mood, but more often than not he really fucking doesn’t.
“Ash.” Tyler snorts.
“Not funny, man.” I shift Scott onto my other arm and pat his small back. “Why didn’t you tell me you were meeting to talk about Zane?”
“Because we didn’t plan it.” He waves his cell phone at me. “I was just about to call you, so why don’t you take a breath and sit down with us?”
Oh. Okay, so I’m not in the best of moods lately. Big surprise.
Swallowing past the knot in my throat, I sit and slide a flailing Scott down to the floor to strut his stuff around the room and explore.
“Kay.” I glance around at their serious faces. “Where is Z-man?”
“Didn’t come in today. He asked me to cancel his appointments.”
“Third day in a row,” Tyler says.
Ever since that day at the agency. “Hell.”
“He needs time to work through this,” Rafe says, brow creased. “Koko says they gave him pills to take, and they take some adjusting. He won’t feel like himself for a while.”
It takes me a moment to remember that Koko is what Rafe calls Dakota. In fact, that’s what all the members of her punk rock group call her.
And oh shit… Pills.
I sit there, numb, watching Scott as he picks up a pen from the floor, licks it and puts it back down. Somewhere in my mind I know I should have stopped him, told him it’s dirty and find something else for him to play with, but… Pills. Drugs.
Fuck.