Page 47 of Left in the Dark

My finger traces over the chiseled lines of Zayne’s face, remembering the feel of the stubble on his jawline against my skin.

My heart stutters inside my chest as I stare out through the windshield.I can’t leave without saying goodbye.Even if he’s not there, I can leave a note.

Reaching around, I grab my burner phone from my backpack before sliding into the driver’s seat. I send Callie a quick text, and before I can second guess myself, I shift her car into drive and hit the gas. Zayne’s dad’s bar is only about ten minutes away.

My hands shake nervously as I clutch the wheel, partly because I’m unsure what to say if he is there.

Pulling into the parking lot, I find a spot near a bunch of thick pine trees that separate Zayne’s dad’s place of business from the local flea mart beside it.

My legs shake as I climb from Callie’s car, not bothering to take my phone.

I heave out a deep breath and slowly make my way across the pot-hole-laden parking lot. I’m lost in thought as I carefully weave toward the entrance, oblivious to my surroundings.

A hand clamps over my mouth, and I squeal, but the sound is muffled. I struggle against my attacker as he drags me around to the side of the bar.

The loud music vibrates through me as I’m spun around. My eyes widen as I take in my father’s furious, bulging eyes before his fist hits me in the stomach. I double over, gasping for breath as he continues his assault.

“Fucking worthless whore,” he seethes. “I’ve given you everything, and this is how you repay me? Sneaking off to see this worthless asshole in a seedy bar.” He kicks me in the ribs.

I squeal as he grabs me by the back of the hair, dragging me to my feet. “Maybe this will finally teach you a lesson.” His fist cracks against my nose, the sickening crunch of bone against bone resounding in my ears. The copper scent surrounds me as the thick, viscous liquid trickles over my lips.

“Zayne Morine is a poor prick who will never be worth a damn.”

Defiance races through me as I lift my head, not caring about the blood dripping from my nose. “He’s a better man than you’ll ever be.”

His fist smashes against my eye, and I drop to the ground. “If you choose that asshole, you’re dead to me.”

The roar of a motorcycle engine causes my father’s head to jerk up. As I stare up at him through my one good eye, the coward takes off around the back of the bar, leaving me lying broken and bloody on the ground.

Tears spill from my eyes, even though it hurts to cry.

My hands ball into fists as I lay on the ground, wondering if this is how Zayne felt when I left him.

God, I’m so sorry, Zayne.

Sobbing into the overgrown grass along the side of the bar, I lie there alone, feeling worthless and unloved.

The bass from the loud music inside vibrates through my aching body as I slowly climb to my feet. Dusk has descended, darkening the land.

My head pounds, and everything hurts as I stumble toward the bar, which is closer than my car.

Please, God, let Zayne be inside. Have him help me, even though I don’t deserve it.

CHAPTER 31

Zayne

“Awe, come on sugar.” The smell of alcohol on the woman’s breath turns my stomach.

Blinking, I take in her heavily made-up face, bright red lipstick smeared around her mouth as she bats her long, fake lashes at me.

“You look like you’d be better than any amusement park ride.” She lets out a loud, coarse laugh that reeks of someone smoking two packs of cigarettes a day since she was in her teens.

“You’re drunk, Jayleen. You need to sober up and go home.” I try to extract myself from her embrace, but it’s as though she’s turned into a damn octopus. As soon as I extract one arm from her vice-like grip, the other one latches onto me even tighter.

“Where’s your sense of fun and adventure?” She leans into my personal space. I cringe, trying to gracefully get out of this situation without resorting to violence.

Fucking Ian. How long does it take to get fucking booze from the back room?

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