Page 99 of Shattered Hearts

Not that I was afraid he was—keeping secrets, I mean—but trust is hard for Zane, and it’s hard for me, too. Loving someone you can’t trust is one of the most difficult things you can do, and when Gage does things like give me a key or trusts me to make decisions for myself even though I’ve proven I can be shaky at the best of times, I love him more. I want to make him happy, as happy as he makes me, and then I start worrying he’s going to leave me if he’s not that happy all the time. It all turns into a big ball of anxiety and fear.

“I would miss Stella and Lucille,” I say, rolling over. His cock slips out of me, and he groans playfully. I liked him still being inside me, but I want to look at his beautiful face and I brush my fingers through his hair. It’s longer than it was when we met, and I wonder if he’s the type of guy who doesn’t care. Zane gets his hair cut every three months without fail. Stella visits the spa when she thinks about it, saying she’s still not used to having the disposable cash to afford a luxury like that. Our spa days are one of my favorite ways to spend time together.

“Of course you would.”

He doesn’t sound bitter, and I don’t feel like I’m choosing them over him. I press a kiss to his lips, thankful he loves me enough to understand.

“Maybe one day we can figure out how to meet in the middle.”

“Like you moving into my room?” I tease. He would never do that. He’s too much of a man to live under Zane’s roof.

He snuggles me closer, a hand to my hip. “That’s not meeting in the middle.”

“I know.” I pause and rub my thumb over his bottom lip. “Can you tell me now, about Jerricka?”

“Let me clean up, and if we’re going to have a conversation like that, I need coffee.”

“I’ll make some.”

“Thanks.”

I feel at home in Gage’s apartment, and I bundle up and let Baby outside so she can take her morning pee break. The sky’s dark, a handful of stars hanging in there as the night gives way to daytime. All the snow that fell yesterday lays in a deep layer on the ground or piled high where the snowplows have pushed it aside. The industrial park is already busy and sounds of trucks and other traffic carry to me. It’s different than living in the country where the only sounds in the morning are the birds and the bare branches scratching in the wind.

When Baby’s done, we hustle inside. Gage is still in the bathroom, and I fill Baby’s bowls with fresh kibble and water and start a pot of coffee. In some ways, it’s strange, you know, to be a part of Gage’s everyday life. There’s an intimacy fitting myself into his mundane tasks, like letting his dog out, or making coffee, and simply knowing where he keeps the grounds scares me a little. I’m not sure why. Maybe because we haven’t been together long, or maybe because we’re going too fast. It’s the lie I told Stella, and maybe it’s not Jerricka’s concern, but mine. Like, I’m afraid he’ll leave me—I’m always afraid of that—but it’s hard thinking he’ll get tired of me if I give him too much too fast. Or he’ll leave me if I don’t give him what he needs, what he wants. It’s exhausting trying to be everything he wants me to be when I don’t know what that is.

Jerricka would call that insecurity, and she’d accuse me of being immature for simply not asking. But I already know what Gage’s answer would be. He would say I’m enough just how I am, just what I’m doing, but I know I’m not. Not with howmy mind is, not with my directionless future. How could that possibly be enough for anyone?

Then I go back to worrying, and I end up feeling like a dog chasing her tail. Running in circles until I can barely stand, and for no other reason than trying to prevent something that’s not in my power to stop.

Gage steps up behind me and kisses my temple, his lips warm. “Thanks for letting Baby outside. How’s the weather?”

“We got a lot of snow. Did you have problems driving last night?”

“Not in that truck. It could take on an avalanche.”

He pulls coffee mugs out of the cabinet and takes the milk he started keeping for me out of the fridge. We fix our coffees and I lead him back to bed. It’s too early to get up for the day, but not early enough to go back to sleep. I’m not meeting Stella until later, but Gage will want to head to the office around eight.

“You came in pretty late.” I wince. Now I sound like the crabby girlfriend who keeps track of every second her man isn’t home.

“Zane had a good time.” Gage burrows into the comforter, holding his mug aloft as to not slosh coffee onto the bed. “He’s funny when he’s not wound up and stressed out.”

“He doesn’t have many friends. Ash ruined it and he’s afraid to let anyone in. All the people he has in his life now are me and Stella, and Lucille and Douglas. It was nice of you to invite him out. I think he missed it.” I sit on top of the comforter wearing one of Gage’s t-shirts. I have nightgowns and pajamas here, but there’s something about wearing a man’s clothes. The scent, the way they feel, the way they cling to my curves. It’s the next best thing to his arms around me. “Will you tell me about Jerricka now?”

Gage explains what Iona Belsely told him and Zane, how they think Jerricka could have been working with Dr. Pederson andhis drug trials, and what they were doing may not have been purely for the good of his patients. “It’s better if you distance yourself from Quiet Meadows. I knew Jerricka was connected to two of the dead girls, and I told Zane. We didn’t think much of it, but after hearing she’s been involved with Dr. Pederson, back then and now, that was a mistake.” He heaves a sigh and sips his coffee. “I’m glad Zane listened to me yesterday. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

He lifts my hand off the comforter and rubs my knuckles.

“You could have asked me first. Do you know how long it takes to find a good therapist? How much trial and error I’ll have to go through to find a good fit? It could be months before I can find someone else I like, someone I feel comfortable enough sharing all my thoughts with. It’s demeaning to share your rawest moments, your darkest secrets. You can’t tell just anyone those things, and I’ll have to start all over again.”

“I know, but—”

“No, you don’t know. Have you ever been in therapy?”

He shakes his head.

Of course he hasn’t. A man like Gage, who has his parents’ support, his confidence and good looks, a future he’s sure of. Women like Sierra, throwing themselves at him, why would he need therapy? Why would he need to lay his troubles onto someone? He doesn’t have any. I’m angry I need a psychiatrist and he doesn’t. That Ash screwed up my life and not his and how easy it is for him to dismiss an important aspect of my recovery he and Zane took away without asking.

She might be rough with me sometimes, but I need that. My recovery would never move forward if all she did was tell me what I wanted to hear. Jerricka cares about me and my progress. She’s probably worried about me and what I’ll do without her.

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