Page 11 of Diesel
And how the fuck didn’t I notice how bad things were, even after she tried to tell me?
I take a breath, then another because the first one doesn’t fill my lungs enough. Makenna looks vulnerable in a way I’ve not seen in a long time. She’s curled up, trying to disappear into the cushions. I did this to her.Me. I’m meant to make her feel safe, not desperate enough to run away.
I should have known. Makenna always takes off when things get too much for her, but I’m the one she runs to.
At least, I was.
Fuck.
“I don’t feel important to you.”She’d said those words to me only a few weeks back. I didn’t know what she meant because it didn’t make sense to me. She’s the only thing that matters. There is no world that exists for me without her in it.
Everything I’ve done.
Every sacrifice I’ve made.
Every move I’ve taken in this game has been forher.
For us.
“Quit staring me like I’m a specimen.” Her words aren’t angry, just resigned. Somehow that’s worse.
She drums her fingers against the arm of the couch,frustration leaking through every movement. I’ve seen this look from her before. She’s backed into a corner, and if there’s one thing Makenna hates its having choice taken from her.
A flash of memory hits me. Another couch, another room. A different time and a younger version of her. She’d cut her hair to just below her chin. Her foster mother called it a fit of defiance. Her social worker said it was behavioural disorder. It wasn’t. It was the only thing she could control.
It sharpened her cheeks, but did little to hide the purple bruise spanning the length of her jaw—the one her shit head foster father had given to her. She’d been with the Robinsons then. They didn’t want kids, they wanted the money they got for taking them in though.
The blanket she’d wrapped around herself was threadbare, barely capable of keeping her warm. I can still recall how the room smelt musty and damp and the way her eyes lifted to mine, trust shining in them despite the mottled pattern staining her skin.
She’s not looking at me like that now. There’s a wary kind of pain mixed with frustration and anger.
I lean back against the wall, folding my arms over my chest, the leather from my kutte creaking as I move. I crave stillness to figure things out, but this isn’t the time to vanish into my own head.
I need to act fast.
She’s slipping through my fingers, and I don’t know how to keep hold of her.
We’re no longer kids, no longer scared of shadows, or bruises. And yet I feel more terrified than I ever have in my entire life. Because before it was us versus the world.Now, I’m standing on the wrong side of the line, willing her to step back over it with me.
“You need to eat.” Falling back into old habits is unsurprising. Taking care of her needs has always been my thing and routines comfort both of us.
Right now, that’s what we need. Comfort.
“I don’t want to eat, Zane. I want to leave.”
Makenna’s words cleave my ribs into pieces, and it’s made worse when she pulls the blanket up to her chin like a shield between us.
“I think we’ve established if you leave, I’ll find you.”
“Yeah, after six fucking days.”
I wince. That’s how long she was gone? I wasn’t sure when she left, but it means for three days she was messaging me like she was safely tucked away in our apartment, not jumping from hotel to hotel.
“You shouldn’t have turned your phone off. I couldn’t contact you.”
“That was kind of the point,” she mutters. “You can’t keep me here against my will.”
She’s wrong. I’ll fucking chain her to me if I have to.
