Page 70 of I Should Hate You-but I Don't

Now, finding out he'd lied about her dad and that she was only a job to him— she wasn't even sure they'd ever heal—and that saddened her to the point she felt like giving up.

Every minute, panic grew inside her. She couldn't stop thinking about what a life without Zane would be like, and it petrified her.

How could she stop loving him? He was everything to her. When she had no one but him, he filled more roles in her life than humanly possible.

Now the fire threatened to take him away. She desperately needed to talk to him about why he'd kept her dad a secret. And why he tried to hide their relationship from everyone.

He couldn't lie about how he felt toward her. She was there. She felt it.

How many times had he told her that she should hate him? She never understood why he'd say such a thing, especially after having sex.

Now, she understood.

She should hate him—but she couldn't.

The door swung open and Big John shouted, "Anyone seen Zane?"

River's heart plummeted, she scanned the room, hoping someone had seen him. It was as if everyone shook their head at the same time. A wave of despair wrapped around her.

Turning around, she headed toward the kitchen, away from the others.

Once she was alone, the tears started immediately. She brushed her cheeks, trying to keep them at bay.

Zane was the strong one, always the one to take control and lead the members of Gem Haven and all the employees. She relied on him to make her feel safe and loved.

Not having him here and thinking the fire would take him from her left her scared. Scared to go another day without him.

She clamped her teeth together and silently screamed in agony. Disappointed in herself, she inhaled a shuddering breath, determined not to hide away in the kitchen and do nothing.

She grabbed her backpack from under the counter and went straight to Kenna. "I'm going outside and asking the others if they've seen Zane."

"You can't." Kenna frowned. "Kingsley told us—"

"He toldyou." She walked backward toward the door. "I'm only going from here to the house."

"Stay away from the fire," warned her sister.

She held up her pinky as she'd done in childhood when they made a promise and pushed through the door. Outside, she slipped her arms through the straps of her backpack.

She had no plans to get close to the fire or get in the way of those fighting the flames. All she wanted was to find someone who could tell her they'd seen Zane.

The air smelled heavily of pine and evergreen. She usually loved the scent lingering in the campground, but the smoke threatened to choke her. Her nose burned, and she swallowed the urge to cough.

She headed toward the house. Maybe others were at the garage, grabbing one of the dirt bikes. They couldn't ride their Harley's off-road, but the Stafford family had many—what Zane and Kingsley called toys—sitting in the garage that would take them through the woods.

In front of the house, dust thickened the smoke. She turned around, holding her hand in front of her eyes to see where the cloud of dust was coming from, and spotted the truck Zane had used to teach her to drive, careening to a stop in front of the bar.

Her heart raced. She changed direction and hurried toward the vehicle.

Zane stepped out of the truck. At the sight of him, a sob tore through her, and she quickened her steps.

He headed toward the front of the bar without looking in her direction. She ran faster.

"Zane," she yelled. "Zane!"

He stopped and whirled around, spotting her. She cried out in relief. He was here. He was okay.

He caught her. She smashed herself against him, wrapping her arms around his waist, needing to feel the beat of his heart against her cheek to assure herself that he was here, he was alive.

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