But he didn’t want to apologise for any of those things. And she didn’t let him. After a pause, she said softly, “Goodnight, Zach.”
And then she went.
4
By the time Monday morning rolled around, Zach still wasn’t sure how to fix the mess of Friday night. He couldn’t forget the stricken look on Rae’s face as she’d clipped out, I consider myself better than just breathing. Maybe he should’ve told her the truth: that he was off sex until he could be sure he was doing it for the right reasons. Or a deeper truth: that she was lovely, she just didn’t do it for him, but then, not many people did.
He could’ve told her about his first love, the one he’d known for a year before desire even occurred to him. Or the ex who’d barely been on his radar until one drunken night when they’d shared their deepest, darkest fears. He could’ve explained that there was a key in him, one that only turned when he knew someone down to the bone, down to their secret self.
But he’d been way too surprised to corral his thoughts, and then, all at once, he’d been angry. Now here he was, pounding away at the forge, wondering what it would take to keep all this temper locked up where it belonged. To stop it bleeding out into his relationships and ruining everything. So far, he hadn’t come up with a decent answer.
From behind him, a voice shouted, “Hey. You want to ease up on that iron before it’s drowning in cut marks?”
Zach blinked, his tangled thoughts fading into the background, reality coming into sharp focus. Fuck. His muscles were screaming, his chest was heaving, and he’d pretty much beaten his work into oblivion. He pulled out his ear protectors and turned to find Evan in the doorway, eying him with obvious concern. And once Evan was concerned about you, you were doomed. He’d turn up at your house with homemade apple pie until you cracked and spilled your inner turmoil everywhere.
See, Evan was a genuinely nice guy. As rare as a fucking unicorn. And for some reason, he thought Zach was a nice guy, too. In truth, Zach was a messy fucker who resented his own compulsion to fill in other people’s gaps but couldn’t make himself stop. He was also in a foul mood, so instead of thanking his friend for the save, he just grunted.
Evan arched a brow. “That Monday morning feeling, huh?”
“Yeah,” Zach lied. “Fuck Mondays.”
Evan’s lips twitched into something like a smile. It was the only hint that he saw right through Zach’s bullshit. He’d never be rude enough to say so. “Don’t you usually take a break about now?”
Zach wanted to say he’d lost track of time, except he never lost track of time. He set alarms and reminders and made schedules. If he was late it was because he’d decided to be. He’d already texted his mother today, adding a smiley face to the message because she’d spent the weekend prodding him about his mood. Obviously, an emoji would throw her off the scent. Once that was done, he’d turned off his usual alarm, because he hadn’t wanted to wander outside and wait for a woman who wouldn’t come.
When he didn’t answer, Evan nudged, “You going or what?”
Zach sighed. Hesitated. Made a decision he’d probably regret. “Yeah, I’ll head outside. Need to cool off.” Need to see just how bad Rae and I fucked up a good thing. Maybe freezing his balls off waiting for her would kick-start his brain and he’d finally figure out how to set things back to normal. Right now, he had a little speech drafted in the notes app on his phone. It started like this:
You’re funny and beautiful and someone should be fucking the life out of you. But I’m not that guy.
Yeah. He wasn’t doing too well.
“Maybe I’ll come with you,” Evan said. “See why you love loitering outside so much when we have a perfectly good, very warm break room. With tea.”
Zach straightened, stamping down the alarm he couldn’t show. “Uh, yeah. Okay.” No. Not okay. Stay in the fucking break room and drink your fucking tea. Read my mind. I’m begging you.
There was a heavy pause before Evan laughed, shaking his head. “You should see your face, man. Relax. I know you go out there to meet Rae.”
Zach tried not to look too relieved. “She’s telling me a story. We’d have to start from the beginning to catch you up.” It wasn’t technically a lie. When Rae had stories to tell, she shared them.
“Oh, that’s what it is?” Evan grinned. “A story?”
“Yep.”
“Right,” he said mildly.
“It is.”
“I hear you. Just a story. Nothing to do with the way she makes you smile.”
“Oh, for—” Zach snorted, shoving Evan’s shoulder. “Have you ever heard of friendship?”
“I have. Me and Ruth, for example, were very good friends for quite a while.”
Zach sighed heavily, pinched the bridge of his nose, and tried to control the amusement in his voice. “Piss off out of my way, would you?”
“Pissing off.” Evan strolled down the corridor with an irritating smirk on his face.
Allosexuals, Zach was starting to realise, were fucking obsessed with attraction.
He waited ten minutes, then decided that she wasn’t coming. A minute later, she arrived.
No absent-minded wandering today; this morning, Rae walked with purpose, Duke marching ahead of her like a bodyguard. She looked different, too: her dreamy, faraway eyes and lopsided smile were replaced by a grim mouth and a nervous gaze. The dark scars on the right side of her face were bolder than usual, or maybe her skin seemed paler. His heart twisted; his mind eased. Maybe she missed him too. That must be it, right? She’d come to find him, to fix things.
She wasn’t going to disappear because he couldn’t give her what she wanted. And he was so relieved, he could die.
She came to face him over the wall, silent and wary. Duke, as always, rose up to give Zach some love. He responded with the required amount of fuss, but he couldn’t seem to drag his eyes away from Rae. She hesitated, then shoved a plastic tub against his chest.
He held it up, looked inside, and found… “Brownies?”
“To apologise.” Her voice was quieter than usual. “Friday was a bit of a nightmare, wasn’t it? And I wasn’t sure what to say, except I’m sorry and here’s some sugar.”
“Good tactic. I’d have done that, too, only I can’t bake for shit.” He put the tub on the wall and tried not to smile too much. It didn’t feel right when she still looked all tormented. But he was really fucking happy, glowing with it, humming with it like he’d never been. The feeling was weirdly intense. “I’m sorry, too. I was a dick. I’ll buy you some donuts.”
Her lips curved, and she pressed her eyes shut for a moment. Maybe she was like him, and she hadn’t realised just how much this friendship meant until they hit an iceberg. She opened her eyes and said, “You really don’t need to, but if you’re offering…strawberry jam?”
“Hell yeah.”
Warmth lit her gaze. Those eyes of hers could go from midnight to sunlight in a blink. “I think we’ve got a deal, Davis.”
“Good.” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice, though no-one was around. “I don’t like it when we’re not okay.”
Her expression softened. She leaned in too, and whispered, “Neither do I. Zach, about the things I said—”
“We don’t have to talk about this.”
“But I want to explain. I really do.”
She looked so guilty. He knew the feeling. If she was in the grip of that uncomfortable burn, he’d help her wiggle out of it, no problem. He’d listen to whatever she needed to say. “Alright.”
She nodded and set her shoulders, as determined as a soldier on the frontlines. As if saying this might just kill her, but she had to anyway. “I was drunk, obviously, and I got it into my head that… well. I haven’t had sex since my divorce, and I thought the first time should be someone I knew, someone safe. Because it was only ever Kevin. That’s all.”
It took him a moment to figure out what she was saying. “You’ve never—?”
“I was
a teenager when we met.” The words stumbled over each other, rushed and embarrassed. “Sometimes it seems like a big deal.”
He nodded slowly to cover the clamour of his thoughts. So, not only had Rae’s arsehole husband thrown away decades of marriage, he’d cheated on a woman who’d only ever been with him. Classy. So, so classy. But there was a silver lining to this confession, too, Zach supposed. Rae had wanted to use him, yes—but it sounded like the whole thing had come about because she trusted him. And for some reason, that was enough to soothe the jagged, painful edges left over from Friday night.
“The truth is,” she went on, calmer now, “you were right. I’ve been in a terrible mood lately, and it’s because I know I’ll see Kevin soon. There’s this whole thing that I should be happy about, but he’s ruining it without even trying. Actually, I’m letting him ruin it.” She gave a wry laugh. “Sorry. I shouldn’t dump all of this on you.”
“It’s fine. It’s good. I wanted you to talk.” He lifted a hand to touch her, as natural as breathing, but something brought him up short. Maybe it was the memory of her fingers grazing his jaw—the look in her eyes, the hitch in her breath, and the Oh, fuck moment when he’d realised what was happening. Suddenly awkward, he ran his hand through his hair instead.
Rae’s lips twisted into a rueful smile. She knew what had just run through his mind. Turned out, things weren’t quite fixed between them yet.
I should tell her.
Tell her about his sexuality, when he hadn’t even told his own brother? He couldn’t want to do that, not really. It made no sense.
“Listen,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “This sounds like a shit storm of epic proportions, and I need to get back to work, so we should catch up later. You want to come over tonight and talk?”
She arched a brow. “To yours? I don’t even know where you live.”
“Sure you do,” he said cheerfully. “I’m in the old white house by the main road.”
Rae let out a burst of laughter, then sobered when he didn’t join in. “Wait, seriously? You live in the haunted serial killer house?”
“It was only one murder. And yeah, I do. Rent’s great.”
She stared. “Jesus take the wheel. I am not stepping foot in that creepy, creepy place. You can come to me.”
“Chicken.”
“I’m black. Black people die first in horror films, which is why we don’t put ourselves in the paths of demons.”
He snorted. “Whatever. I’ll come over around seven?” And I might share something I’ve never said before. Maybe that’s what you do for me. You make everything easier, the way I do for everyone else.
She was already leaving, Duke bringing up the rear. “Yes. Bring donuts,” she called over her shoulder. Her smile burned away his doubts.
Rae had spent all weekend marinating in rejection. She’d really rolled around in there, letting the memories soak into her bones like an extra layer of protection. If someone bit her, she’d taste like Who the hell do you think you are? She’d taste like Get over it, you’re embarrassing yourself. She’d taste like the look on Zach’s face when he’d rejected her as clearly as humanly possible because she couldn’t take the fucking hint.
Jesus, what had she thought? That he’d automatically be gagging to sleep with her, like it was a benefits package that came with his friendship, and she just had to make a request? Alcohol and horniness had rotted her brain, clearly. In fact, there’d been a moment after she arrived home that Rae had honestly thought she might… cry.
Clearly, she’d drunk even more than she’d realised.
But she was stone-cold sober now and supremely over it, since the offer had meant nothing in the first place. And, just to make sure Zach knew that—just to emphasise how unimportant and purely physical the whole proposition had been—Rae was going to behave completely normally around him.
Starting right now.
It was evening, and he was here. He’d shown up with a sweet smile and damp hair, wearing jeans that adored his thighs and a T-shirt that worshipped the breadth of his chest. She’d offered him a beer, and he’d noticed the dead spotlight in her kitchen. Now he was changing it for her, because he was that kind of guy.
His T-shirt was riding up. While he fiddled with the light, she held a torch and tried to ignore the eye candy. She’d already ogled him enough, and she wasn’t a pest or a bad friend… but it turned out she was highly susceptible to wanton gorgeousness, because she couldn’t tear her gaze away. He was a carefully carved slab of marble with those sharp, diagonal lines at his hips that acted like blinking arrows. Those lines had no sympathy for the plight of a woman hopelessly in lust. Hey, they said, look down here. Lower. She resisted, focusing on the faint trail of dark hair that dusted his abdomen. But that was pointing downward, too.
This was a conspiracy. Zach’s body was out to get her, and she wanted to be caught.
No. Nope. Bad Rae. We’ve been through this. Zach didn’t want her. She didn’t mind. For the sake of their friendship, she had to stop being weird.
“There we go,” he said, climbing off her dining chair. “Flick the switch.”
She did as she was told, and the kitchen glowed to life, every spotlight present and correct. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”
“This is the kitchen where you make fantastic brownies. I definitely had to. By the way, I want some more.”
“I bet you do.” She rolled her eyes and grabbed her lemonade. She was avoiding wine for the rest of the month. “You’re lucky I baked at all. I hate doing things for men.”
“Men, specifically?” He followed her into the living room, sips of beer interrupting his smile. “Why’s that?”
“I suppose I’m bored of it. Life will do that to you.” She sank onto the sofa beside Duke’s curled up bulk. He was snoring like a sledgehammer, each breath whacking at her heart in the best way possible. She kissed the top of his precious baby head.
“You know Duke’s a man, right?” Zach pointed out, sprawling into an armchair.
“Duke’s a dog.” She paused, cocking her head. “Hmm. Actually, I see what you mean.”
“Hilarious.” He was trying to sound sarcastic, but the twist of his mouth said he was fighting a smile. He thumbed the neck of his beer bottle and her mind showed her something: Zach, maintaining eye contact, burning her with that blue fire, while he slid the neck of the bottle into his sinful mouth. She shifted awkwardly against the cushions, trying not to roll her hips. Stop that.
Her mind switched things up. Now Zach was standing over her, cradling her face with one hand, parting her lips with his thumb and easing the bottle into her mouth. Jesus. She made a mental note to book a date with her vibrator. Clearly, she’d been neglectful.
“Speaking of dogs,” he said, dragging her back to reality, “tell me about this thing with your ex.”
Ah, Kevin. A bucket of cold water when she needed it. This was the most useful he’d been in years. “I’ve been invited to a convention. It’s this annual event in Manchester, over the bank holiday weekend, for fantasy authors and readers. The Burning Quill.”
Zach didn’t seem to recognise the name, which made sense; as far as Rae could tell, he was a casual fantasy fan, more of a sci-fi guy. Still, he said, “They invited you, huh? Ms. Big-Shot author.” His smile was all pleased and glowing, like he was proud of her.
She sipped her lemonade demurely and admitted, “I’ve been nominated for an award, too.”
“What?” Now he was openly excited. “When did that happen? You been keeping secrets, sunshine?”
She grimaced. “I haven’t really let myself enjoy it. It’s like a solid-gold cloud lined with shit.”
“Because of your ex?” And now his expression darkened. She caught a glimpse of fury in his eyes, like he was ready to crack skulls, but trying to hide it.
Sometimes she wondered what else Zach hid. The thought intrigued her more than it should.
She sank back into the cushions and said, “He
hasn’t done anything wrong, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Not recently, anyway.
“Except for the part where he cheated on you after twenty-two years together?” Zach said mildly.
“Good memory.” She pointed at him. “But that doesn’t matter. We don’t care. We actually hate him for other reasons.”
That didn’t help Zach’s skull-cracking expression. “What reasons?”
“Private reasons,” she sniffed. “Here’s my problem: he’ll be at the convention. He’ll probably win an award. He’ll bring Billie—”
“Billie?”
“The new wife. The assistant.”
Zach wrinkled his nose. “Do we hate her?”
Rae shrugged. “She’s not the one who vowed her fidelity to me, so no. We are exhausted and ambivalent.”
“Alright. So, he’ll be at this thing, and he’ll bring Billie.”
“Yes. And everyone will look at me like I’m a big, sad, abandoned sack of poop. I’ll feel awkward and defensive and I’ll hate myself for letting him ruin my weekend. I can already see it happening. I’m already pissed in advance.” I wish I didn’t have to go alone. I wish I had a friend there.
I wish I had you.
Zach gave her a strange look. “I had no idea that you… Well, to be honest, I kind of thought you were impervious to judgment and all that shit. I don’t know why. It just never seems to bother you.”
Of course he’d think that. After all, when he was around her, it was true. But for some reason—maybe because she’d already hit rock-bottom embarrassment with him on Friday night—she found herself correcting his assumption.
“Sometimes it feels like there are two of me. There’s me after the divorce, the person I am here. The person I want to be. Here, I don’t care what people say or think—I honestly don’t. But then, when I’m not here, I become the old me. Kevin’s me. Because the people I used to know look at me differently, and…” She obviously couldn’t explain it, because the words tumbling from her lips made no sense. Her voice grew quieter as she finished. “No-one pities the real me, the person I am here. But in Kevin’s world, that’s all anyone ever does. And it makes me feel like someone else.”
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