Page 27 of Diesel
She blinks, like she’s trying to hold back the tears wanting to fall and tries to step away so I can answer it. I don’t let her. I hold her tighter, like I can fuse our bones together.
“Please,” I repeat. “I can’t do this without you.”
Her fingers tremble in mine as I hold her. “The only way this works is if there’s no more lies between us.”
“Okay.” I’ll agree to any terms she puts down. I’m not a man without her. I’m just a wreckage in leather and denim. I kiss her forehead, my lips lingering too long. I can’t bring myself to pull back. I want to keep her in this moment, etch it into the fucking stars. “Don’t ever run from me again. I can’t stand not knowing if you are safe.”
“Then don’t give me a reason to.”
My phone quietens and then immediately starts ringing again.
“They keep calling, Zane. It could be important.”
My hand wraps around the nape of her neck. “I don’t give a shit about anything but you.”
Her eyes close for a second, like those words punch through every wall she’s built to protect herself from me.
“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say those words again and mean them.”
I blink back tears, my throat clogged with raw pain that I ever let her believe she isn’t the reason I exist.
She shivers, wrapping her arms around herself. The fine hair stands on end. She’s cold.
I cross my arms over my body, seize the hem of my hoodie and take it off.
“What are you—” Her words cut off as I slip it over her head and when her eyes reappear, she’s watching me like she’s not sure whether to cry or collapse.
She doesn’t stop me as I fuss, guiding her arms into the sleeves like she’s a child. It’s too big for her, hanging off her small frame, reminding me just how fragile she is compared to me.
I settle it on her shoulders until there are no seams in the places that annoy me. She tucks her hands into the sleeves and curls into herself, like she’s trying to breathe me in.
“I could’ve gone and got a sweater out of my bag,” she grumbles, but there’s no heat in it.
She could have, but I want her in my things. Taking care of her is the only thing I can do.
“Now you don’t need to.”
“But you’ll be cold.”
“I’m not the one shivering, firefly.”
She wraps her arms around herself, the hoodie swallowing her. “You used to hate it when I stole your hoodies.”
I don’t know why she would think that. Seeing her in my clothes unlocks that primal need in me.
“I never hated you wearing my stuff,” I say. “I was just…” I rake a hand through my hair before I let the word land. “Jealous.”
She blinks, then narrows her eyes, wary. “Of what?”
I pause, unsure how to say this without sounding unhinged. You’re on the edge of losing her. Just say it.
“That it wasn’t me wrapped around you.”
I’m pretty sure she stops breathing. “Zane…”
“Do you still want to leave me?” My words aren’t demanding, not even angry, just… wrecked. Her chin wobbles and her lashes are damp when she peers up at me, and she’s bracing, as if she’s afraid of what I might do. That guts me more than anything. She’s never dealt well with uncertainty. I cut her off before she can break my heart out of my fucking chest. “No. Don’t. I don’t think I can stand hearing you say it anyway.”
I stare at a spot on the wall behind her until it blurs. I don’t want to let her go, but caging her… Forcing her to stay… That’s a slow death. It’s watching the person you love come to hate you and I can’t bear that.
