Page 85 of Diesel
I let those words sit, but they feel like an anvil on my chest. “She’s… She was so young.”
His mouth presses against my temple, his lips soft against my skin even if I can feel the tension in his jaw. “This isn’t on you.”
My throat feels clogged with the words I want to say, but can’t. Grief sits jagged in my chest. “Knowing that doesn’t make me feel any less shit.”
He wraps his arms around me, warm and safe. Home. I slide a hand around his waist, holding onto him like I’ll drown without him.
I let myself feel it all. Grief, pain, uncertainty, and then I lock it back down. Zane needs me strong, not falling apart. And I need him focused on staying alive, not on coddling me.
Reluctantly, I pull away from him, sitting straight. I wipe under my eyes, capturing the tears I allowed to fall. “Thank you for telling me.”
“It won’t always be like this,” he says.
I finally look at him. There is a quiet resolve in his eyes, a determination to make things better for us. For me.
I palm the side of his face, letting my mouth tug into aghost of a smile. “I know.” I stand, tugging my sweater over my head. “I’m going to see if the girls are around.”
“You don’t have to do that if you don’t feel like it.”
“I need to. I don’t want to sit here overthinking everything.”
He takes that in like I just told him I was about to disarm a live bomb. “Firefly…”
I bend down, kissing his cheek. “I’m okay, Zane. I promise.”
It’s not entirely true. That knot in my chest is still there, but I can’t stay in this room. I need to do something, to see faces, people. To escape the guilt in my head.
He follows me out of the room, into the main bar area. I ignore the hulking figures in leather and denim. I’m getting used to club members in my space, but it’s not them I care about.
It’s the three women huddled around the table at the back of the room. The barbed wire wrapped around my lungs loosens when I see them, but before I can take a step, Zane tightens his grip on my hand.
I look back at him. “If you need me at any point today, message. I’ll come.”
Warmth fills my chest, that familiar feeling of being taken care of. “I’ll be okay.”
I kiss him, soft but quick. His hand lingers on my neck, like he doesn’t want to let go of me. I hate the war raging in his head, hate that he feels so responsible for everything.
He steps back and lets me go. I hate that every time we part it feels like a goodbye, even if neither of us says the words.
My legs feel shaky as I cross the room. As I approachthe table, the girls look up. There is none of the usual easy smiles. Even Dayna is subdued.
I sit next to Ivy. Toby is on the other side of me, focused on his phone and whatever he’s playing through the headphones he’s wearing.
Seren reaches for me, trying to launch herself off her mother’s lap. I let her grab my finger.
“You heard?” Maylie asks.
Her son is sleeping in a Moses basket standing at the edge of the table. He’s got his whole life ahead of him. Years to figure out who he is, what he wants.
Years that Chloe will never have.
“Yeah, I heard.”
Ivy squeezes my knee, like she can stick a plaster over the wound in my chest with touch alone. I give her smile I don’t feel.
No one speaks for a moment, just lost in their own thoughts, maybe grief. Then Dayna says, “The baby has a name now.”
I glance at Maylie. She said she didn’t want to name him until this was over because it gave Mace a reason to come home.
