“Come inside the gym.”
She frowned in confusion, and that’s when she realized she was right outside The Pit. “No, it’s getting late. I should go.”
She turned, but this time Zane touched her waist. Again, it was gentle but also firm. “Bonnie…come inside with me.”
Did she look the mess she felt? Because shedidfeel a mess. A stone’s throw away from breaking. Between Indie not responding, the woman who refused to sell her that car, and now Carlos, it was all piling on top of her, feeling like this immoveable weight.
“Okay.” The word was so quiet she wasn’t even sure it crossed the distance.
He slipped a hand to the small of her back and led her inside.
As she walked in, the only thing holding her together was the warmth of Zane’s touch. And maybe he knew that. Maybe that’s why his hand lingered.
It was takingevery part of Zane, every fraction of self-restraint he possessed, to follow Bonnie inside the gym and not go after the asshole who’d touched her.Markedher. Eventhinkingabout the fucker made his hands ball into fists like he was going to hit something.
He forced himself to cross the gym to the small bar fridge in the kitchen and grab two beers. He cracked them open, and when he reached Bonnie again, he handed one to her. “Here.”
“You’re giving me a beer?”
“It’s alcohol or hit something. I thought this would be your preference.”
Her gaze flicked to the closest bag. “Why not both?” She slipped the beer from his hand and downed a quarter of the bottle before moving over to the leather bag.
Why the fuck did he find the combination of Bonnie, beer, and a leather bag so hot?
He tipped back his own bottle, letting the alcohol burn his gut before following. “Who was he?”
“I dated his son through high school.”
“Dean? The guy who died?”
“Yep. Dean got drunk at our graduation party, took his friend’s keys, and tried to drive himself home.” She ran her fingers over the bag. “He didn’t make it.”
“How’s that your fault?”
“I was supposed to drive him.”
The fact that she hadn’t made him think there was a good reason. “Still doesn’t sound like it’s your fault.”
“They needed someone to blame. And that someone became me.”
“That’s why you left town?”
“No. I left because one day I was this numb teenager who did stupid things in an attempt to feel something, and the next, I felteverything…and I wanted to claw out of my own skin.”
“Just from Dean’s death?” He didn’t buy it. There was more to this.
“Well, Dean died, the town blamed me. Then my parents died while coming to pick me up after asking me not to go out.”
Fuck. She reallyhadhad it tough. He didn’t even want to say sorry, because that felt fucking stupid.
Zane moved to the equipment box and pulled out gloves. Then, without a word, he took her beer, set it aside, and fit the gloves onto her hands. “Have you hit a bag before?”
“Once or twice.”
When the straps were tight around her wrists, he stepped back. “Show me.”
One side of her mouth lifted, only to slip again when she turned to the bag.
