Page 90 of Shattered Fate

Like hell I want anyone judging me for mine.

They will, though. Zarah had it right when she wrote her therapist that list. They’ll accuse me of looking past what Ash made her do because I want her money.

It will always come down to money with this crowd.

I’m not a rich senator’s son. Not like Max was.

Zarah thinks she won’t fit in? She’s got nothing on me.

Pop and I are pounding the pavement when she texts and asks if I want to go out to her place to eat dinner and let Baby runwith Sansa and Arya. I’m exhausted and I shouldn’t, but I accept. I have a feeling that no matter what Zarah asks me to do, the answer will always be yes.

Zane’s waiting outside as I pull up and a strong sense of déjà vu hits me. He’s shoveling the soft layer of snow that fell as the sun went down, clearing the walk and the concrete in front of the garages. If he would’ve left it, I’m sure a snow removal company would’ve take care of it by morning, but it’s a nice evening and I don’t blame him if he needs some space.

Life has been stifling lately.

I cut the engine and open the door. Baby scrambles out, her new home away from home.

Zane wedges the shovel into a snowbank and says, “You can let her in. The women are in the kitchen helping Lucille cook dinner.”

Baby rushes into the house, but I stay outside. No doubt Zane wants to tell me a few things. I guess we’re clearing the air sooner rather than later.

Self-consciously, Zane shoves his hands into the pockets of his work jacket, and he exhales, his breath streaming out of his mouth white in the cold. “I want to thank you again for bringing my sister home yesterday. Christ, when I found out she went to see Willow Black...I saw red. After all they’ve done to us, and Zarah went to see her. I felt betrayed.”

“I get it. I didn’t like hearing it either, but she’s lonely. All she has is you and Stella, Ingrid, and Lucille. Her life is very small.”

“I thought we were enough, and I don’t know how to fix the fact we’re not.”

I’m on shaky ground. No one tells Zane Maddox what to do, but he waited out here to talk to me, so he must want to know what I have to say.

“Have you tried talking to her?”

He frowns. “I do talk to her.”

“Look, I don’t want to get between you two. All I know is what she tells me. Do you talk to her like you used to? Before. Before Black prostituted her to whoever could pay? Like you did before he drugged her to shut her up? She wants her life how it used to be, and I told her that’s not going to happen and to deal with it. But some of the parts she misses, shecanhave back. Like the relationship she had with you.”

“You don’t understand what I see when I look at her.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. Max...I bet you didn’t know he evenhada brother until he died and his attorney contacted you to arrange for me to pick up his things. We weren’t close. We were so different, at least, I thought we were, and I didn’t want anything to do with him. I can’t fix that now. I hurt him by shutting him out, and I didn’t understand he wanted me in his life until after he was gone. You feel guilty, but you gotta let that go. What’s done is done. Sometimes there are things you can’t fix and you have to make peace with the knowledge they’ll always be broken.”

“I didn’t know she felt like that,” he mumbles.

“She’s scared to talk to you. She forgives you, and she needs you to treat her like you’ve forgiven yourself. Even if you haven’t. That’s not her problem.”

“God. I was such a fucking asshole. Forgive myself for letting her rot in Quiet Meadows when nothing was wrong with her? That’s going to be damned near impossible.”

“This is something that’s probably none of my business, but sudden moves make her flinch. She tries to hide it, but it’s about as subtle as a sledgehammer. Maybe if you would hug her, or, I don’t know, play around with her—that sounds stupid—but if she can get used to you touching her again, maybe she’ll get used to me. Men in general.”

“I’ve noticed. I just stay away from her. It’s easier.”

“You can’t do that. It feeds into her thinking she’s dirty. She called herself a piece of trash last night and it broke my heart.”

Zane hunches his shoulders. “Jesus Christ. She’s supposed to be working with her therapist about stuff like that.”

“I’m sure she’s told you, the therapist, I mean, that it’s going to involve her whole family.”

He cuts me a glance. “How did you know her therapist is a woman?”

“You would never let Zarah spend an hour alone with a man. Not now. Especially two or three times a week. And she wouldn’t be comfortable with it.”

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