Page 171 of Offside Devil

“I know you don’t like to answer questions about yourself,” he rasps. “I know you like it when I hold myself deep inside of you while you come. But that’s not enough anymore.”

My face flames. He’s wrong, but I can’t force the words past my swollen tongue.

Zane knows about my dad. He knows why I don’t like loud noises or screaming. He knows about my nightmares and how to rub my shoulders until I fall back asleep.

He knows a soft, vulnerable part of me exists, even if I’ve never let him see all of it. That’s more than anyone else has ever gotten.

Because the details—all the bloody, nasty shit left over from my childhood—that isn’t me; it’s just what happened to me.

Zane glares down at me for a few seconds. His jaw is tight, but his eyes are liquid sapphire. He’s practically begging me to give him something, anything…

But I stay curled on the floor.

In disgust, he spins away and snatches a t-shirt from the closet hard enough that the hanger flings off of the bar. He doesn’t stop to pick it up or to look back at me.

“I knew you had secrets when we met. I knew there were things you were keeping from me, but I thought you could trust me. I thought if I gave you time....” He tugs on his shirt with a sigh, heading for the door. “Time is almost up. I’m not going to wait much longer.”

68

MIRA

“How much longer?”

I blink at Peter Morris standing in the doorway for a few seconds. “Excuse me?”

“Before Zane is home.” He slows it way down for me in case I suddenly lost my knowledge of the English language. “How much longer will he be gone?”

Shit, I wish I knew, I almost say. Maybe forever.

Zane never came to bed last night. He was gone when I woke up this morning.

He told me he won’t wait around for me much more, but maybe what he meant was, I’m done waiting already. You’ve lost your chance.

I’ve been distracted and scattered all morning, trying to figure out how to fix things with Zane without having to tell him about the worst night of my life.

He thinks me opening up to him will save our relationship, but I know the truth: as soon as I lay out the sins of my past, Zane is going to show me the door.

And I wouldn’t even blame him.

Peter Morris clears his throat. “Miss McNeil?”

This is the last thing I need right now. To be fair, I think Peter Morris might be the last thing anyone needs in their life.

I glance at the digital clock above the stove. “Zane is usually at practice for another hour, at least. You can come back then if you want to?—”

“We don’t have time to come back,” he snaps.

Jodie Barnes gives her partner a look that tells me Peter is exactly as terrible to work with as I’d assume.

“We’re mostly here to talk to Aiden, anyway,” she croons. “We want to check in with him and see how he’s progressing.”

I lunge for the folder we’ve been keeping on the bookshelf by the door for this exact moment. “I have reports from his teacher at school and his therapist. They’ve all noticed a huge improvement in his speech. He has good friends and is a lot more social than when he?—”

“We’ll see all of this for ourselves,” Peter drawls. “Is he here?”

I grind my molars together so I don’t grind my knuckles into Peter’s nose instead. “Yes, he’s here. He’s in his room.”

“Shouldn’t he be in school?” Peter’s fingers drum over the notebook in his pocket like he can’t wait to whip it out and write down NEGLIGENT in big, block letters.

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