“You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you,” Greg says.
I nod, because that was what I thought about Rafe before realizing I’d fallen so hard for him. “I know.”
Greg can’t hurt me, because I feel nothing for him. The only one with the power to hurt me is the man who’s just left the coffee shop.
That’s it. Megan, my girl, you’re sick.
Now how can I pretend that everything’s fine?
Chapter Six
Rafe
Days pass, wrapped in fog. No reply to my pleas about the shop from Armin. No word from Ash, no word from the streets.
No glimpse of Megan.
She has a boyfriend. I knew that, but knowing and seeing are two very different things. The image of that motherfucker kissing her is branded on the inside of my lids, lodged in my brain like a bullet.
Better this way, I tell myself. Better for her. I’m not what she needs, that’s for sure.
Fuck.
“Goddammit, Rafe, what are you doing?” Zane’s in my face, standing between me and my opponent—Jesse, one of the Damage Boys. “Hey, are you even awake?”
Good question. I blink bleary eyes and glance around. I’m at the gym, training the guys—or, as it turns out, letting them use me as a punch bag.
“Fucker, I’m talking to you.”
Zane frowns, and shakes a fist under my nose. “You’re letting him beat you up like... Shit, did you even feel anything when he punched you? Just how out of it are you?”
Now that he mentions it, I feel the pain radiating from my middle. So what? I’m used to pain. Obviously wasn’t bad enough to snap me out of my zoned-out state.
“I’m okay,” I say, my voice so rough the words are barely understandable.
“The hell you are. Forget awake, are you even alive?” Zane grabs my arm and steers me away from the fighting area. “You look like hell.”
“I said I’m okay.” I jerk my arm free of his hold, but the asshole grabs it again. “Leave it be, Z-man.”
“No fucking way. We need to sit and talk about this. Something happened and you’re gonna tell me what it is even if I have to drag it out of you with fucking forceps.”
Dammit. I don’t have the energy to argue, especially not with Zane who’s on a mission to get the truth out of me.
“Talk to me.”
“Fuck you,” I croak, exhausted, as he hauls me into the changing rooms. I stagger along, a buzzing in my ears.
“What do I have to do, hold your head underwater? Try Chinese torture?” Zane stops, and I stumble, my balance shot to hell. “Talk!”
“The shop,” I blurt, still trying to keep upright. “It’s gone.”
“What shop? Wait… Are you talking about Damage Control?” He pushes me backward until I hit the wall inside the changing room. “What do you mean, ‘gone’?”
“Gone. I…” So fucking hard to say. I swallow hard, try again. “He’ll sell it. I fucking tried to convince him, but he won’t listen, and—”
“Slow the fuck down, man. What are you saying? Sell Damage?”
“It’s not mine. You know it. Won’t be until I turn twenty-one and get the money to buy it from my uncle Armin. He owns it and he wants to sell.”