Page 7 of Shattered Fate

It unsettles me, and I shy away.

Gage drops his hand.

“It’s good, thank you.”

“Anytime.” He clears his throat.

I sip the sweet confection, wiping my own face when I need to. I don’t know how to talk to men. I don’t have friends besides Stella, Lucille, and Ingrid. I’m more comfortable with the dogs, outside.

He doesn’t push me to talk, doesn’t scroll on his phone to amuse himself, either. We sit in comfortable silence, like he’s used to being alone or with someone who doesn’t need conversation.

It’s nice to sit and not feel forced to say something.

My heart beats normally, and my hands stop shaking. I enjoy the coffee, and by the time I reach the bottom, I’m almost content, a feeling that’s strange to me.

This isn’t a date. We won’t go back to his place and make love because the only sex I’ve had was violent and full of hate, and if I couldn’t let Max, one of the gentlest people on the planet, touch me, no one has a chance.

Just like that, Ash ruins a peaceful moment, and without saying one word, I pull on my coat and run out of the café.

I’m dirty and I’ve been used. Men paid Ash money to hurt me, and someone like Gage will never love a piece of trash like me.

CHAPTER THREE

Gage

The way Zarah ran out of the café still shakes me, and I’ve thought about nothing else all day. Not through the workout at the gym down the street, or the run to exercise Baby, or when I threw in a load of towels.

I know her past six years have been hellish. Ashton Black selling her to high-end clientele, and the crazy story of Stella Mayfair switching places with her to let her go free, only to have her fuckhead brother and Black lock her up in Quiet Meadows and force every drug under the sun into her little body.

Hearing it didn’t do the story justice.

The haunted look in her eyes, the way she could barely hold a coherent conversation.

She couldn’t even order coffee for Christ’s sake.

Somehow during their short time together, Max had cut through all that and found a connection. That was Max, though. Kind and patient to a fault. I wonder what their first night of lovemaking was like. How long had she needed before shetrusted him, how long before he taught her that sex could mean love.

Gnashing my teeth, I refuse to be jealous. A woman like her, she would need that kind of compassion. I don’t have it in me to be nice.

Quick and dirty is how I roll, and I’ve heard enough stories to know Zarah has had enough of that.

I can see why Max asked me to look out for her. I mean, kind of. She has enough family to help her through her recovery, but my brother was right about one thing—Ashton Black isn’t through fucking with her.

Zarah Maddox is never going to be the same carefree socialite spending Daddy’s money and partying all weekend.

Black stripped her of that joy, and I sincerely doubt she’ll ever get it back.

Especially now that Max is dead.

Baby’s ready to go, and she wags her tail. Pop’s downstairs waiting in the fake taxi and we’re going to stake out the soon-to-be divorcée one last night. At least I can tell him I did what I said I was going to do. I don’t like liars, and I hate people who have no follow-through. Walk your talk or shut the hell up.

She’s already in the car by the time I make it downstairs, and Pop’s feeding her fries out of a Dairy Queen bag.

“Told you not to feed her,” I grumble, sliding into the passenger’s side. “She’s gonna get fat, and all that grease makes her shit stink.”

“You look in those eyes and tell her no.”

I look over the back of the seat at Baby’s huge blue eyes she gets from the Husky in her. “No.”

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