I wonder if he’ll react. He missed practice this whole past week, and has been avoiding me.
But he nods at Peter and turns toward me, lifts a hand. “What’s up?”
“I’m outta here. Take over, yeah? I think they’ll be okay without me.”
Zane’s eyes narrow. “What, you’re not only skipping parties and get-togethers, now you’re gonna ditch training, too?”
I suck in a sharp breath. “Fuck you, Z-man. What I do is none of your business.”
“Yeah, like losing Damage Control was none of my business, too, huh? You didn’t think I deserved to know?”
Fuck that shit. “You got something you wanna tell me, man? Just say it.”
“Damn right I got something to say. Why the fuck didn’t I know this sooner? You obviously did. Not cool, fucker.” He jabs a finger at me. “I thought the shop was our project. I thought you’d have remembered to tell me that wasn’t the case.”
“I told you how things are. It was never really mine, man.”
“This is bullshit. If something means a lot to you, you fight for it.” He’s in my face now, chin jutting out, and I jerk back. “What’s the matter, fucker, did I hit a nerve? Maybe you don’t really give a fuck about Damage, not like I do.”
“Back off, Zane,” I hiss through gritted teeth and push him off me, but he shoves me right back. His flat and angry eyes tell me all I need to know. He’s not about to forgive me, and on top of that he thinks I’m not doing my best to keep the shop.
“This was our dream.” His jaw works, his eyes flash. “I don’t know what the hell is distracting you right now, twisting your priorities, but this is what we fought for. So what is it? Revenge? Sex? Drugs? What’s your addiction these days, Rafe?”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I snarl. This isn’t happening. I’m not exchanging angry words with my best friend.
“I know you. You’re obsessed. But your past is in the past. Leave it there. Fight for what’s in the future.”
“What the fuck makes you think I’m not? And how would you know that my past isn’t fucking up my future, goddammit? The past is alive. The past is fucking me up.” My chest is too tight, and heat is spreading up my neck. “You have no fucking clue.”
“Okay, what do you mean? The past is alive? What are you talking about?”
Dammit, I slipped up.
“I’m done,” I say and turn to go. “Take over the training or not, whatever. I don’t care one way or another.”
“Just like I thought.”
With Zane’s accusing stare burning a hole between my shoulder blades, I grab my duffel bag and head out. Gotta stick to my plan and see it through, with or without my friends’ understanding and help.
In fact, it’s damn better that way, so that if—or rather when—things go tits up, as they’re bound to do, I won’t drag them down with me.
***
Snow covers the city, white, pristine. My black Mustang rolls through the swirling flakes, marring the perfection. I chose it black, like my past. Like my stained thoughts.
Dammit, Zane. I slam my fist into the steering wheel.
Part of me wishes I could talk to him, that I could believe he’ll support me. But my plan is crazy and dangerous, and I know it. He’ll never approve, and I won’t let it go. No fucking way. Catching the motherfucker who destroyed my life and took those I loved is what has kept me going through the years.
And yet, having Zane pissed at me hurts, and not in a good way.
Man, I want to help anyone who’s in trouble, anyone who’s in need, or out on the street. I’d like to save everyone, though I learned early on that letting people down is inevitable.
But this isn’t just anyone. These are my brothers and sisters. The Brotherhood and the Damage people, they are everything to me. If they suffer because of me...
Shit. How can I convince Armin not to sell Damage? Where the fuck can I find the money to buy the shop off him? This is driving me nuts.
On my way home, I take a detour to check on Apples who’s supposed to be watching the coffee shop where Megan works.