But it wasn’t. It was a memory. Of Indie. Shoving her aside. Of the blood.
She dropped her head into her hands, fresh tears filling her eyes.
Indie had been hurt because of her…whilesavingher. She and her baby were okay, but it could have ended so much worse.
She turned to study the bed beside her. Empty.
Where was Zane?
After leaving the hospital, he’d brought her to this isolated cabin. It was big. So big that Ethan was in one of the bedrooms upstairs while she and Zane had the entire downstairs to themselves. They’d had dinner. Showered. And he’d held her until she’d fallen asleep.
But hadheslept?
She pushed the covers back and touched her feet to the wooden floorboards. Even though the cabin was old, it had clearly been updated with heating and top-notch security.
So why was she still so cold?
Without bothering with a sweatshirt or pants, she left the bedroom, only wearing one of Zane’s shirts because they hadn’t grabbed anything from her place yet. The shirt drowned her, and it also smelled exactly like him—a mix of eucalyptus and smoked vanilla. So uniquely Zane.
Her footsteps were quiet as she padded down the hall, the darkness keeping her pulse racing beneath her skin.
She searched the kitchen first, then the living room.
Nothing. Had he gone outside? Maybe he was doing a perimeter check.
She was about to shift the curtain aside to look through the window when something sounded. A dull thump, like a fist hitting leather.
Was there a bag in this house? Zane had given her a tour, but there hadn’t been a workout room.
He’d only shown her the stairs to the basement though.
She turned and moved in that direction, then quietly opened the door and closed it behind her before descending. The thumps got louder, quickly accompanied by heavy breathing.
And that’s where she found him.
Zane was shirtless, his back toward her, hands wrapped and wearing only shorts. Every time he hit the bag, a thousand muscles pulled and strained in his back.
She shuddered at the fury in his hits. Like every time a fist landed, he was trying to beat the rage out of his bones and silence something inside him.
For a moment, she didn’t move. Just watched him throw hit after hit, her arms wrapped around her waist. She’d felt so much anger herself, about everything happening to him. The unfairness of it all.
But now, in this moment, all she could feel was a deep sadness. Sadness that he’d been chasing peace for the last year but still couldn’t reach it.
She stepped to the side of the bag. Two more hits and his eyes finally landed on her.
He took his earbuds out. “Bonnie.”
She stepped toward him, gaze going to the straps on his hands. “How long have you been down here?”
“I’m not sure.” He touched her chin and tilted her head up. The gentleness of his touch was in complete contrast to the aggression of his hits moments ago. “Are you okay?”
“I woke up and couldn’t find you. I was worried.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
She nodded at his hands. “Can I take these off?”
His silence stretched so long she thought he’d say no. Then he nodded. Carefully, she started unwinding the material before switching to his other hand.
