by Petrova, Em
“When did it happen?” Riley’s voice was soft, as she leaned more of her weight against his chest.
The almost overwhelming desire to spend the night making love to her? He was starting to think it had always been there. “When did what happen?”
“When did we lose this? The ability to let loose with each other. Things have been strained for so long. I mean, not like in a way most people would notice, but I see it, and I’m pretty sure you do too. Those awkward pauses that never used to be there. Did it happen when you enlisted?”
The answer popped into his head, and he realized he’d been thinking about it for a long time yet never recognized it. “It happened when I started dating Amanda.”
She leaned her head back on his shoulder, touching her cheek to his. “How do you figure?”
He expected the memories to hurt. He hadn’t been down this road willingly in so long. “She hated me spending time with you.”
“Why?”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“She was insanely jealous of you. Vocally. Intensely.” Zane had never understood why, until now.
“She was insane. It’s not the same. I’m still not getting it.”
Because Amanda was just the girl he’d been fucking. Riley was the entire other half of his universe. “I couldn’t talk to her the way I talk to you. I tried a couple times. I guess it felt like… I was betraying you.”
She closed her eyes, a soft smile playing on her lips. “You were together for so long.”
It was true. “She asked me to marry her, not the other way around.”
Riley sat up and turned to look at him in shock. “Seriously?”
“There was always something missing there. I think she hoped marriage would fix it.” The same thing Archer had said.
Riley shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way.”
“I know that now, but back then… Let me put it this way—why did you think people were going to hate you when they found out you turned Archer down?”
Suddenly her body wasn’t molded to his anymore. Her spine went rigid. “At least one person does.”
He moved a hand to the back of Riley’s neck, to rub lightly. “Their opinions aren’t worth shit.” She relaxed under the attention. Or maybe it was the words. He wasn’t sure. “That’s my point. It’s what we’re told people do. Right? They date for a while, and as long as they get along, they get married. Everyone expects it. She and I had been together for years. I figured it was the next step.”
Riley leaned back into him again. “Except there was something missing.” He didn’t know if she was talking about him and Amanda or her and Archer. “Getting along, nice qualities… they don’t really mean anything if the two of you don’t click. I mean, maybe I’m just a cynical romantic, but I’d rather go without, than tie myself to someone I don’t have that spark with.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist again and rested his cheek against hers. “Yeah, me too.”
“About Sabrina…” She trailed off.
Where had that come from? He tried to keep his tone light and his posture casual. “What about her?”
“I guess it’s none of my business, and I probably don’t want to know the answer, but since I’m wondering and we’re being open, I’m going to ask anyway.”
He frowned, glad she couldn’t see it. What was she getting at?
She shuddered. “Do you have a similar agreement with her that you do with me?”
The line of conversation made less and less sense the deeper it dove. “I don’t have anything with her, let alone something even close to what you and I have.” Speaking the words sent a sharp spike of heat through him. They hit so close to home and at the same time seemed woefully inadequate to the love he had for Riley.
“So this afternoon was just a tumble because you were bored?”
It took him a moment to process what she said, and when he did, he almost choked. “This afternoon was her telling me I was stupid for turning down the CIA job. There was no tumble. Did she tell you that?”
“Yes.” Riley’s answer was almost lost among the exaggerated boguses in the background.
That explained why Riley seemed removed and on edge. Or he hoped it did. “I swear on all I hold dear, I haven’t done anything with her or even thought about it for ages.”
She sagged against him, but her neck was still straight, rigid. “The guy who fantasizes about every attractive woman he knows isn’t even thinking about it in regards to her.”
A smile leaked out at the dry teasing. “Most guys do that. Besides, not every woman—just you and a couple of movie stars, and honestly… really only you, since we started fooling around.”
“I have a hard time buying that.”
He brushed his lips over the outside edge of her ear. Relief flooded him when she sighed and relaxed further instead of pulling away. “You can be a pretty all-consuming thought. I mean that in the best way possible.”
When she shifted her weight and rubbed her back against him, it called to the lust he’d tried to beat back since she turned him down. Apparently his dick wasn’t listening.
She trailed her fingers lightly down his forearms and then back up again. “You’re just saying that, to get laid.”
A small laugh shook his frame. “I’m saying it because it’s true.” His mouth hovered millimeters from the curve where her neck met her shoulder, the soft melon scent of her shampoo searing his veins with need. Maybe this was what he needed, to let go. Guilt and regret surged back, taunting him, reminding him he hadn’t earned that privilege.
Chapter Eighteen
Riley pressed into the warm body behind her, as consciousness seeped in, burning into her memory the feeling of his chest against her back. The night before had been incredible—talking like they hadn’t talked in ages. He skirted the one topic she knew lived at the forefront of his mind, but they’d get to that when he was ready.
And then falling asleep in his arms… When she climbed into his lap, she had worried it was too much. That it would take them to places it would hurt to go.
It had been worth the risk.
His warm breath tickled her neck in a steady rhythm. He was still asleep. Wake him up or bask in the comfort a little longer?
She crawled out from under his arm and blankets, and scooted to the edge of the futon. The night before had been fun, but she was still lying to herself about something important. Pretending she didn’t love him intensely, and then diving into an illusion of just friends to get closer wasn’t going to work.
Her drifting attention landed on a familiar business card, and she tugged it from its spot on the coffee table. Had he ever called Scott? So much had happened lately. She should have asked sooner.
She plucked a ballpoint pen from a cup to the right of the computer and flipped the card over. The pen slid smoothly over the stock, and the lines filled in quickly as she sketched. Within a couple of minutes, a picture of Zane looked back at her. It was different from her comics. He was hunched over a laptop, but she’d left out the cartoony lines, giving him a more realistic appearance instead.
Her phone buzzed at her from its spot on the table, where she’d left it the night before. Out of habit, she grabbed it to scan the new email message. Questions about Zane—what to do, how to do it, how she would cope if he didn’t feel the same—swirled in dizzying circles in her head.
Moving on autopilot, she pulled up her email.
Tell him and risk losing it all, or keep it to herself and risk driving herself insane with regret, because she never asked?
She paused, thumb hovering over the screen, when a familiar name caught her attention. They’d been number one on her list of agents to contact about her graphic novel. Why were they emailing her?
She needed to calm down. It was a bizarre coincidence. The knot growing in her stomach needed to go away. She clicked the message open, sickness filling her as she read.
Ms. Carter,
Her vision blurred, and the words trailed off. Zane stirred behind her. She hadn’t sent her work to anyone. How did she rejected without querying?
Her artwork lacked polish?
“Hey.” Sleep lined Zane’s greeting.
She didn’t look up. Holy hell, this hurt. Part of her knew rejection was inevitable, but she hadn’t even been able to bring it on herself. How had this happened?
“Shit, Riley. What’s wrong?” The bed rustled some more, and seconds later, Zane knelt in front of her. He brushed a thumb over her cheek. “Talk to me?”
Her throat was raw, and she couldn’t make her voice work.
“Riley?” He grabbed his shirt from the floor, where it had been tossed aside the night before, and tugged it on. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
She swallowed, still unable to form words, and handed him the phone.
He glanced at it and sank back onto his heels. “Oh. Shit.”
The shift in his tone cut through her confusion. That wasn’t the answer she’d been expecting. Her question was a dry croak. “What?”
“That’s horrible.” He set the phone on the coffee table, then took her hands in his, concern etched on his face. Something else was there too. She’d gotten far too familiar with it, since he came home. The way he didn’t quite meet her gaze. The catch in his voice that meant he was hiding something. “They’re morons. They don’t know what they’re talking about. Unpolished, my ass. You’re more talented than anyone else ever,” he said.
Something wasn’t right. “I don’t understand how she got my work. I only finished touching up the lines a couple of days ago. I haven’t scanned it yet.”
His jaw worked up and down for a moment, before any sound came out. “You’ve got a Deviant Art page. Maybe you’ve got a reputation.”
No. Dread crawled through her. That couldn’t be right. She hated herself for thinking it. There was no way he’d betrayed her trust like that. “Literary agents don’t go crawling the Internet, to have an excuse to reject random people. How did she get my artwork?”
He stood and took a step back, his gaze anywhere but on her. He rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t know?”
He was lying to her, but why? “What did you do?”
He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts, watching his toes trace lines in the carpet. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. You’re skilled and fantastic, and you were getting cold feet, and she was supposed to see how talented you are, and it would be perfect.”
“Zane.” Please let it be anything but that. A deep, gouging ache of pissed-off started in the center of her chest and spread. “What did you do?”
He finally looked at her again. “I sent her your story, from your email address.”
Holy shit, he hadn’t. Fury coursed through her, stemming from his nerve—the assumption he had a right—and she clenched her fists until her nails dug into her palms. He’d lied to her about this and gone behind her back, after she told him what she wanted. “That’s why you kept my sketchpad for so long.”
He shrugged. “I tried to give it back before you missed it.”
She rubbed her face, so much happening in her head, she didn’t know what to focus on. “You went behind my back.” She stood. “I told you I was working on it. I laid out exactly how I felt.” She took a step toward him. “After everything we talked about, what made you think you had the right?”
“You deserve this. You weren’t taking any steps, and you’re better than that. This is motivation. I did it because you deserve better. You need to believe in yourself.”
“But that’s not up to you.” No matter what he said, it couldn’t make this better. “All this does is humiliate me. It shows the world how completely and totally untalented I am.”
“You’re none of that.”
“I’m all of that.” She was toe to toe with him now, anger flooding her. “You told me no more secrets. You said you were done going behind my back. I thought we covered this last night. It’s not up to you to decide what is and isn’t good for me.”
“You covered this last night.” A mask slid onto his face, carving his features in stone. “I didn’t agree. Not before, not now. If you can’t make up your mind, you’re going to miss out.”
“And that’s on me.” Frustration lodged in her throat. “Besides, I have made up my mind. I know exactly what I want.”
“Really? Enlighten me.”
“You.”
His impassive expression faltered for the briefest second before hardening again. “That’s not an option.”
His rejection dug deep inside, and left an empty pit. But she promised herself and him this was the last time she’d do this. She made herself clear, and he wasn’t interested. Except she couldn’t find it in herself to walk away graciously.
“Fuck you.” The brush off was easier than giving into the tears stinging her eyelids. She stormed from the apartment and slammed the door behind her, rattling the windows. It took everything she had, to make it to her car before the sobs threatening to escape racked her body. Her chest ached, and her throat was raw from biting back the sobs.
Was she more upset with him, for pretending this didn’t hurt him as much as her, or with herself, for reading into things that weren’t there? Fuck. And why did she want to go back inside and make things better again?
No. They both made their decision. She’d be there for them for as long as he wanted, but if he didn’t, she couldn’t help that.
It took all her focus to make it home, get inside, and lock the world on the other side of the door.
A cry tore from her throat the moment she made it to her bedroom. Tears spilled down her face, and she clutched her sides, trying to keep the shuddering from getting out of control. It wasn’t supposed to hurt like this. It wasn’t supposed to hurt at all. That was the point of promising no strings. It was the reason any of the teasing was okay. It had never been simply teasing, though. It always meant more, despite what they called it.
It hadn’t felt like this with Archer or anyone else. The pain of all the guys she’d ever broken up with, put together, didn’t ache as much as this. Sinking into depression was the exact opposite of what she wanted.
She dropped down onto her mattress, pulled her knees to her chest, and cried until most of the hurt washed down her cheeks. Her frantic gasps slowed, and she forced herself to take a few deep breaths. Calm crept through her, slowly evicting the desperation.
Life wouldn’t end because she couldn’t slide her nails up his back and hold him close any more. Forgetting what his lips felt like when they brushed her neck, the hint of five o’clock shadow scuffing her skin, was no big deal.
Watching from a distance while Zane’s demons devoured him was far better than doing it up close and personal.
Right?
Chapter Nineteen
Zane stared at the empty room, trying to smother his thoughts with the same all-encompassing absence of anything. Focusing on the numbness was easier than acknowledging how much every inch of him ached.
Riley was gone. If she was smart, she wasn’t coming back. Acid surged in his throat and left a foul taste in his mouth.
When he’d woken up and seen her near tears, then realized why, it slammed into him. He’d done that. He made the same mistake as last time. Let what he wanted—his own selfish wants—hurt someone else.
It was true this was nothing compared to the pain he caused last time. On the other hand, this was Riley. The one person he specifically swore he’d never hurt.
And saying the things he did to her, the way he forced her hand and made her leave, that hurt as much as any of it. He knew what he’d done. Said things meant to push her away. It was better this way in the long run, but it still sucked.
Sabrina was righ
t. Any excuses he came up with for why he couldn’t take the job, all the bullshit about morals, were him lying to himself. He grabbed his phone and dialed Sabrina.
Each ring was another hammer blow against his eardrums. Loud, brash, and shattering. He didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed when her voice mail clicked on. “It’s Zane Petrov. Call me back.”
He disconnected and let the phone fall to the mattress as he fell back. Fuck. The impulse to track down Riley and apologize raced through him. To take it all back and make her smile again. That would make them both feel better now, but it wasn’t the best solution long term. She’d recover from this and be happier for it.
He couldn’t lie in bed all day, letting his thoughts chase themselves until he was so dizzy he wanted to scream. He needed to get out of here.
Fifteen minutes later, showered, dressed, and no closer to finding his center, he pulled his truck onto the main road and pointed it in a random direction. He wasn’t sure where he was going, except south. There wasn’t a lot of choice, leaving The Aves.
He followed the roads wherever they went. This time of the morning, there wasn’t a lot of traffic to contend with, so it was easy to pick and choose random routes. When he turned down a familiar street, nostalgia and regret hit him hard. How had he not realized he was so close to home?
His old neighborhood looked the same as it had six years ago. And ten. And fifteen, and twenty. Sure, some of the cars and faces were new, but the feeling was still the same.
Riley and Kenzie’s mother still lived in their childhood home. Archer and Jen’s parents owned the place next door. Granddad’s house was around the corner.
Zane parked in front of the brick-faced home he grew up in. He made his way up the driveway but bypassed the front door. This time of day, Granddad would be on the back porch, enjoying the still of the morning. Zane wouldn’t have been certain, but he heard the familiar rustle of a newspaper.
He’d stopped by a few times since he got back, but he never stayed long. He wasn’t sure why, but something held him back. Now this felt like exactly where he needed to be.