Page 68 of Hard Rock Desires
Zain nodded his head in acknowledgment and took a seat at the island counter, perching on one of the barstools.
“I also didn’t handle things in the best way.” He ran a hand through his hair and let out a chagrined sigh. “I shouldn’t have brushed off your concerns the way I did.”
I was relieved to hear him say that. But that wasn’t the only reason I was here. There was something else that had been bothering me.
The look on Zain’s face when I’d handed him his tie, the way he had sounded so shaken after I’d told him to go…
“You know that I’ve got worries,” I said. “And that’s something for me to work on. I shouldn’t project my issues onto you.” I braced myself. “But I think it’s time for us to talk about your worries, too.”
“What are you talking about?” Zain looked at me with confusion. “What kind of worries do I have?”
“I know you were upset when you left. When I asked you to leave.” I leaned my elbows against the marble countertop as I faced him from the other side of the island. “You weren’t just worried about me telling you to leave right then. You were worried I was telling you to leave forever. Right?”
Zain’s face twisted into a grim expression. He looked away from me and fidgeted awkwardly in his seat, squeaking the toe of his sneakers against the floor.
“There are things I don’t like to think about,” I continued. “Things I don’t like to talk about. But it helped me to talk about it with you.” I reached over the table and put my hand over his. “I think it might do you some good to talk about your worries as well.”
“You don’t want to listen to my shit,” Zain said.
“That’s where you’re wrong.” I curled my fingers around Zain’s and held his hand tight. “I want to hear all about it.”
Twenty-Two
Zain
Kaylee’s high-pitched yet bellowing voice made it to my ears even through the music blasting from my headphones. I lowered an earbud after hearing my name. A call to come downstairs followed seconds later.
Along with my acoustic guitar and laptop, I shifted all the junk that had collected on the sofa to the side. Music sheets, pencils, CDs — yes, actual CDs — along with empty soda cans and plastic packaging from snacks.
I was glad I was alone in my room. Not just because I didn’t want anyone to see the mess, but because the huge sigh I made when standing up was filled with such put-upon annoyance I would have been embarrassed for anyone to hear it. I sounded like a sulky teenager, and I hated it.
I ran a hand through my hair, trying to do something about the tangles, and brushed a few crumbs off my shirt. Fuck, how long had I been working without a break? The sun was starting to get low in the sky, so it had been almost a full day.
I took a moment to scoop all the trash in a wastebasket before Kaylee called out again. Impatient brat.
I’d expected she had ordered pizza or some other take-out and was calling me down for dinner. When I walked into the back kitchen and saw Grace standing there, I almost turned on my heel and stormed out. What did the two of them think they were doing, ambushing me like this?
But the nervous yet hopeful look on Grace’s face slithered past my steely resolve. I’d told myself to forget about her, but just seeing her standing there with eggs in her hand made my chest twist, and not in a bad way.
Then she started speaking, and that twist turned into a storming cyclone.
She wasn’t only here to talk about all her worries and anxiety.
She was here to listen to mine.
That was… unexpected.
I wanted to outright lie. To tell her that I had no worries, that everything was fine. Grace didn’t need to hear all about my shit.
Besides, I didn’t want to start shooting my mouth off about things that didn’t matter. What had happened in the past stayed in the past. My life was different now. Better. Better by about a thousand percent, actually. I had no right to bitch, whine or complain.
But she surprised the hell out of me. She took my hand and told me I was wrong. That she did want to hear it. She did want to listen.
“What’s this all about?” I withdrew my hand from hers and leaned back. “Why do you suddenly care about my shit?”
She looked down at where our hands had been intertwined, looking sad.
“I care,” she said softly.
