Shane has texted me a few times. He knows something’s up, ’cuz I’m avoiding him, too. We’ve
always been tight as brothers. But he’s got his own demons to fight. Bigger, badder demons than mine. Can’t heap mine on top of them.
‘Sides. What can he do? Nothing, that’s what. Talking about the past will only serve to make his nightmares worse. No fucking way am I doing that to him. If push comes to shove, if Zane and Rafe find out about my record, I’ll leave.
Damn. A knot forms in my throat at the thought of leaving, and I pull the blanket over my head.
Chill, Seffers. Nothing happened. It’s just been a bad couple of weeks.
Months.
Years.
Fuck.
I drift, and it’s cold all the way to my fucking bones. I’m in my cell, the steps of the guard approaching. Dread curls in my stomach, burning acid. Can’t do this again. Can’t let it happen.
Can’t stop it.
But the guard’s steps falter. Their rhythm changes. They stop.
Another sound reaches my ears and I blink, taking in my dim living room, the table, the sofa I’m on.
Not the cell.
No danger.
Still my heart is racing a hundred miles an hour as I lower the blanket and sit up. Sounded like a knock.
There it comes again—a knock on the apartment door. Frowning, I throw my legs off the sofa and scratch at my jaw. Who can that be? Jesse, trying to drag me out for drinks? I wouldn’t put it past him, but fuck, I need a shave. And a shower. I’m only dressed in my sweats and a T-shirt.
I wait, but silence spreads. Did I imagine it?
Cursing to myself, I push myself upright and test my knee. It holds, so I limp to the door and open it.
The last person I expect to see tonight is standing right in front of me, her small fist raised to knock again:
Manon.
***
“May I come in?” she says, and I realize I’ve been staring at her like an idiot.
“Sure.”
She steps inside, her heels clicking on my bare floor. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She glances from the blanket on the sofa to me and back. “Did I wake you up?”
“Good thing you did,” I mutter, my brain still short-circuited from dozing, from the snatches of memory-dreams and her unexpected presence at my door.
“Are you all right?” She steps closer, her eyes concerned, and I step back, not sure I can take this show of caring when I know she doesn’t really mean it.
She kissed me back last time and then vanished for a week. Just like she vanished the time before. And I’m pretty sure I know where she’s been: her boyfriend’s arms. I wonder if this time they did it, if everything’s fine now between them.
I don’t wanna know.
“What brings you here?” I wander back into the room, leaving her to close the door, if she’s staying, go if she’s leaving. “Didn’t my lessons help? Want a refund?”
And there I go again, where I shouldn’t. The memory of kissing her burns through me like a wildfire.