get to put this on me.”
But Ash has, and something shifts in the air.
Trust my brother to turn the tables on Zane, letting down his shields to let Zane see his fear, using that fear to lure him out of his shell, to bring down his guard, shatter it to pieces.
Zane would never allow Ash to be hurt. He’d do anything to protect his friends, including talking about his past.
“Jesus Christ.” Zane works his jaw, then looks up at the ceiling and sighs. “I’ll tell you all I can remember, so all of you, drink up. This ain’t gonna be fun for any of us.”
***
“The thing is, I can’t remember much of my childhood,” Zane says. “I know I was moved around a whole damn lot, stayed in foster homes with other kids. I have this impression of changing house interiors, and faces, even before I met Emma.” He rubs a hand over his face. “My sister.”
He and Emma were really tight. He called her his sister even though they had no blood ties. She just happened to be placed with him in a foster home, and became the family he’d never had. They were separated later, and found each other when Zane was a teenager.
Only to lose her to cancer a few years after that.
“My memories are just that: fucking impressions. Unclear faces. Events all mixed up. A bully who once hit me. A girl who once kissed me. A kitten I found once.” He swallows hard, sits up a little. “Being sick as a dog. Starving. Running in the dark.”
Ash opens his mouth to say something, and I shake my head at him. He snaps his mouth shut, glaring.
Yeah, Ash is scared, too. Scared shitless of what Zane is about to recount.
“There was one house, though.” Zane’s voice rasps as if he’s smoked too many cigarettes. Maybe he has. “A house with creaking boards. I remember a few kids. Boys mostly. There was a big tree outside. Like a maple tree. Had colors in the fall. We all slept in a room. Bunk beds. No carpet. And I remember…” His voice breaks, and Ash is biting the inside of his cheek, his cheeks red. “I have this fucking memory. It’s night time, and I’m kneeling on a bed, and someone is behind me. A man. I can smell him. He fucking stinks, of sweat and something sour, and… God.”
He’s panting. His hands are clenched into fists so tight his knuckles are bone white.
Rafe produces a low growl that lifts the hairs on the back of my neck, but I’m too chilled with where this story is going to spare him a glance.
“There was another guy. There. On the bed,” Zane whispers. His eyes look too dark in his pale face. “He stuffed a bunched-up piece of cloth in my fucking mouth to keep me… keep me quiet. ’Cuz I was screaming. It hurt.”
Fuck me. “What did they do, Zane?” I ask quietly, and my pulse is pounding in my ears. I’m seeing red. What the hell did they do to him?
Zane shakes his head. “Play with me. That’s what he kept saying. Play with me, little boy…”
Christ, it’s as bad as I feared, and bile rises in my throat. “Fuck.”
The faces of the others look green. Rafe looks like he’s about to puke.
Only Ash looks deathly pale with murder in his eyes. He knew this. He knew enough not to be shocked, just furious with whoever hurt Zane.
“They burned my back. With cigarettes. Slashed at it with a small blade to see me bleed. The blood soaked the sheets. And then…” He draws a shaky breath. “Then he just… I thought he shoved a fucking Bowie knife inside me. Hurt so fucking bad, and then…”
He chokes on the words, doubling over, and fuck, now I wish I’d told the girls to come, too. Dakota. Or Erin. She would have known what to do.
I mean, we’re guys. Sure, we talk about sports and politics and show each other pictures of our kids all the time, and when it’s time to take action we throw ourselves into it, but giving comfort is not our thing.
Not for something so terrible. Something that tore Zane apart when he was a kid and still hasn’t healed.
Suddenly he’s on his feet, his face ashen, a hand clamped over his mouth, and stumbling toward the bathroom.
Hell.
Before I move, Ash is up and rushing after him. The bathroom door slams open, then shut, and then it’s quiet.
Numb, I sit there and force my fists to unfurl.
Son of a bitch. I wish Ash had told me all this, but okay, it wasn’t his story to tell. Such a terrible secret to keep, such a weight on the soul, for both of them, but above all…