Page 88 of Fighting for His Life

Zoey eyes the food suspiciously. “You made this?” she asks with a wrinkled nose.

I try to contain a snort but fail miserably. Zane glares at me. “Just eat the damn shit.”

“How did you get in here anyway?” Zoey ask him giving us a curious look.

I duck my head, not sure if I want to tell her that Zane has the code to the penthouse and can come and go as he pleases. She shouldn’t be bothered. He’s her brother and my best friend. I have the same access to his place.

“Can he just come in when he wants?” she glares at me. I don’t look at her or answer. Instead I shove my mouth full of eggs.

Zane laughs as he throws a piece of bacon at her. “Of course, I can just come and go as I want. Just like he can come and go from my place.”

I can feel the heat of her frustration coming off of her like a solar flare. I guess maybe it wasn’t a good idea to give Zane total access without discussing it with her first. But we’ve always come and gone from each other’s space. Plus, he’s her brother.

“Why do you two feel the need to give each other free reign over each other’s apartments? If these were houses with keys would you share those too?” she growls which is one of the greatest things I’ve heard from her in weeks. It’s a close second to hearing her laugh. She fiery and feisty right now. It’s Zoey in full force.

I give her a sheepish grin. “Yeah. Probably,” is my only response.

She throws her hands in the air in frustration. “What if I’m not decent when he just comes barging in? What if we’re not decent?”

“It wouldn’t be anything I haven’t seen or heard before, little sister. Now would it?” Zane smirks.

“Ugh,” she shrieks. At this point, I am really patting myself on the back for my self-control because on the inside I am dying with laughter. “You’re freaking impossible. Don’t you have somewhere to be? Both of you?”

“Yeah, actually. Practice starts in fifteen minutes,” I tell her.

“How can we go to lunch if you two have practice?” she grins triumphantly thinking she’s finally found her out.

“Because it’s more of a meeting from yesterday’s game,” Zane shoots back. Her face is a combination of disappointment and aggravation. “Gotta go over the game, and get some groundwork laid for playoffs.”

“All right. All right,” she huffs. “Then go do your job while I get ready?”

I grab her before she has a chance to stomp out of the room. “We’ll be back to pick you up at twelve,” I tell her before placing a kiss on her cute little frustrated mouth.

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbles but kisses me back with a grin.

Zoey

I check my reflection in the mirror one more time. I have my dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. I notice for the first time how long it’s gotten, and it makes me smile. Cutting it was a stupid mistake, as was the bleach job. It couldn’t accomplish what I wanted, and that was to look in the mirror and not see the girl who was brutally attacked. The girl who ran away from everyone and everything that could help her through the trauma and pain.

My eyes are lined with kohl liner and a dab of mascara on my lashes making the pale blue orbs stand out even more. I put on a soft pink tank over a short black pencil skirt with lace edging with knee-high boots. My leather jacket completes the look. I’ve put on a bit more weight since I’ve been home. My skin glows and my curves are returning.

I’ve been happy since I’ve gotten home, but I know I’m still avoiding life. I rarely leave the apartment except for therapy. I want to go out. Get back into the groove of life, but every time I try, I start to panic. Not having drugs as my crutch has made me see just how bad I’d gotten.

Of course, I have prescriptions. The doctor has given me Xanax to help with the panic attacks and sleeping. The problem is that it makes me so drowsy that, once the anxiety has subsided, all I want to do is sleep. They’ve also given me antidepressants that I suppose are working. I can’t help but wonder what’s the point to all of it if I still can’t make myself leave the apartment.

But that’s what I’m doing now. Zane wasn’t going to back down, and I know that I have to try. I haven’t so much as went to a grocery store since I’ve been back. I’ve wanted to go to their home games, but every time game day arrives, the thought of being surrounded by all those people send me right back to bed to hide under the covers.

Maybe today is the first step. Maybe I can’t really start living again until I put myself out there. That’s what Dr. Lansing said. That I was expecting the medicine to do the work for me. Today is the day I’m going to find out thanks to my relentless brother.

One more look in the mirror. I take a deep, cleansing breath and exhale all of the fear and anxiety like Dr. Lansing instructed.

In truth, I’m not sure what I’m hiding from. I’ve never been able to decide if I’m afraid of being attacked again or if I’m afraid people will see how damaged I am. Maybe it’s something else altogether, but the night I was attacked changed something in me. Stole something is a better way of putting it. Something I want back badly.

My hope. My faith in people. My optimism. I need all of that back.

I hear the elevator ding, telling me Jax and Zane are back. They’re early, but since I’m ready, I guess it doesn’t matter. I grab my small shoulder bag, and throw in some gloss, my phone, and the small wallet I keep my ID and cards in.

I’m walking into the kitchen when they walk out of the elevator looking a little more than pissed. I know it’s pathetic, but part of me hopes whatever has them so angry will get this lunch cancelled.

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