Page 5 of Shattered Hearts

He just cut his losses.

Like any smart man would.

It’s hard not to feel bitter. One more thing Ash stole from me. The man I love. My future. My family.

We had a little time.

Not enough.

The doorbell rings and someone bangs furiously on the front door. They must be beating the crap out of it if I can hear it all way up in my room. Sansa and Arya start barking, but not growling. They know who’s on the other side.

I slip out of bed and crack my door open.

Listen.

Zane answers. He’s been home a lot more, watching me. He wants what’s best for me, but I resent it at the same time I need it.

“Davenport. I told you not to come out here.”

“Fuck that.” Gage’s voice. “I want to see her.”

I sag against the doorjamb. He didn’t forget about me.

“No.”

“Zane, let him in.”

Stella’s voice.

I hope I’m not causing problems between them.

“I told you to give her time.”

Zane.

“I have. It’s been two weeks, and I’ve heard jack shit. I want to see her. I love her, goddammit.” Gage’s voice cracks.

“Let him in, or I swear to God, I’ll leave with him.” Stella. She lowers her voice, and I can barely hear her. “She misses him. She loves him too, you know.”

The door slams shut, and I trot down the stairway to see if Gage is here or if he left.

I’m halfway to the bottom when our gazes collide. He runs up the stairs two at a time and drags me to him, holding me so tightly I can’t breathe.

Or maybe that’s my own relief because in his arms, oxygen isn’t the only thing keeping me alive.

He cradles me like he did in the woods the first time we kissed, but instead of bringing me up to my room where I crave time with him, he carries me downstairs. I hide my face against his neck, his cool skin and cologne calming me in a way that lets all the tension seep out of my body.

“We need to talk,” Gage says, and I assume he’s speaking to Zane.

It’s a good idea, necessary, but all it means is more embarrassing conversation. I turned twenty-seven years old last month, and I can’t make my own decisions. It’s humiliating.

“I’ll ask Lucille to serve us some coffee in the den,” Zane says reluctantly. “Ingrid should be there. We might talk about something she needs to know.”

We decided not to let Ingrid go. She’s always hovering, a concerned look in her eyes. Since I fell at Gage’s, sometimes she seems more of a spy than companion, skulking in the shadows. The idea’s ridiculous. There isn’t anyone she would be reporting to besides my brother, and he already knows everything. It’s my imagination and paranoia getting the better of me, and I try to control it.

I snuggle into Gage’s chest, his jacket rough under my cheek. I can’t put into words how thankful I am he’s here. He lowers onto a couch, holding me in his lap, and I lift my head.

Zane and Stella sit across from us. I was afraid he’d be angry, fury shimmering off him like sparks, but he sits defeated, his head in his hands, staring at the floor, his leg bouncing in agitation. Stella rubs his back, trying to comfort him.

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