Page 82 of Virago

“Was awful. But it’s over. There are lots of ways to heal, Zaxx. If Zelda needs to feel tough and strong and push this behind her, don’t get in her way. If she breaks, or stumbles, you don’t have to be there right in the moment, you don’t have to anticipate the need. Let her be the one to decide when and what she needs. Just be there when she calls for you.”

His eyes met hers, and Gia remembered her flowery, amateur-poet reaction to first really seeing them. Arctic ice in a deep sea. She’d never say something so cheesy aloud, but to herself she could admit it was apt.

“You are something else, Gia.”

“What do you mean?” Again, she put up a guard. If he meant to tell her how special she was, how he wasn’t good enough for her, she’d bean him with the Hydro Flask sitting on her table.

“You’re so fucking smart and ... so good with words. I’m neither of those things.”

Still guarded, she decided to entertain this topic for a minute or two. “I don’t believe you’re not smart, I’ve seen your intellect at work. And who cares if you’re good with words? You’re good with lots of other things. Anyway, words aren’t actions.”

She didn’t really believe that; of course words could be actions, if the words effected change. But he was talking about something else. He meant he wasn’t good at expressing himself verbally. That, she could believe—and it made him like most of the men, and a goodly portion of the women, in her family. Bikers were not generally known for having a lot to say, or saying it eloquently.

“Hey.” She gave his hand a light shake. “If we’re friends, or if we’re more, I’m happy to be your cheerleading section, and I’m here when things are hard and you need to vent or rest or be reminded you matter. That’s part of being friends, and it’s essential if we’re more than friends. But I need to be clear: I don’t want to be with someone who feels inferior to me. I don’t want to hear any bullshit about how you’re not good enough. I know I’ve accomplished some cool things, and I’m comfortable with who I am, but I’m not the Chosen One or anything like that. I’m not special. I just had opportunities and took them.”

His chuckle was a tad too self-deprecating for Gia’s taste, considering the bent of this conversation, but she let him have that dry laugh and didn’t cut him off when he said, “Gia, c’mon. You’re special. Your list of cool things you’ve accomplished is as long as my arm. My list is just a heading, without anything under it.”

Gia grabbed her patience by the neck and held on. She knew enough about Zaxx to recognize that this depth of self-doubt wasn’t his steady state. The man who’d strolled up to back her against three yahoos at No Place did not lack confidence.

What had happened to his sister, everything that had happened this weekend, had shaken his faith in himself. But she also knew that a shake this hard could dislodge important bits and become a permanent change. That was a common effect of trauma, too, and Zaxx had gone through a trauma this weekend as well.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” she said. “You are someone who, at eight years old, became a parent so your baby sister would have somebody to count on. If that were the only line on your list, it still puts you above most people. When you’re feeling low, I will remind you of that amazing fact, and any others I know. I hope you’ll do the same when I’m having a bad day. But it can’t be all the time that I have to reassure you. I don’t want to have to prop you up habitually to keep us going. It’s not fair, and we won’t work that way. Do you understand what I mean?”

“I didn’t save her,” he said quietly, his eyes dropping from hers. “You did.”

“Zaxxon. Look at me.” She lifted his chin and made him. “You took care of her. I was just part of the care you took.”

He blinked, and in those arctic-sea eyes, she saw his thinking shift, his downward spiral lose momentum and finally stop. She saw him remember himself and maybe give himself some slack.

She slipped her hand from his chin to his cheek. “How are you? You’ve been through it, too.”

When, much as her brother had earlier, he let his head rest on her palm, when she understood that he found comfort in her touch, a burst of bubbles shot up from her belly and swirled through her chest. This man made her feel things she’d never felt for anyone.

“I’m okay,” he mumbled. “Sad, stressed, angry, but okay.”

“That seems to be the common set of feelings.”

He smiled. “Right now, though, I’m feeling pretty good, actually.”

“Yeah?”

His hand came to her face, and his fingers traced her cheekbone. “Yeah. I like that you want to be with me. Turns out it’s kind of a cure-all.”

“Well, let’s pump the brakes a little. I want to try to be together. I need more data before I can decide about long-term plans.”

Her words pushed his smile away and replaced it with a furrowed brow. “I know you have big plans. I don’t want to get in your way, Gia. I don’t want to be the thing that stops you from reaching everything you want.”

“You won’t be. I’ll make my own choices, and they’ll be what I want.”

“Promise?”

“Solemn vow. But I need a vow from you not to feel all mopey and unworthy.”

His laugh at that sounded both surprised and honestly amused. “Not sure I’ve ever been ‘mopey,’ but yeah, I can make that vow. But can I still be impressed by you?”

She grinned. “Sure. I’m impressive.”

“But not special?”

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