No. That wasn’t on her. That was on him.Them. Yet Bonnie was forever paying the price.
A knock on her door had her head shooting up.
Who was that? Noah? Indie? Her sister and Colt had dropped her off at home an hour ago. Indie had wanted to stay, but Bonnie had refused to let her, needing some time alone.
Quickly, Bonnie swiped her face dry before moving to the door and looking through the peephole.
Zane. He wore the same clothes he’d had on at the bar, and the look on his face was something between anger and disgust and worry.
She squeezed her eyes closed, a part of her wanting to open the door. To fall into his arms and let him hold her together.
But he wasn’t her boyfriend. He wasn’t her anything.
“Now’s not a good time, Zane.” She leaned her head against the door, the chill from the wood seeping into her skin.
“I need you to open up, Bonnie. I need to see that you’re okay.”
The softness of his tone made new tears spring to her eyes. She told herself not to open it. To send him away.
But she didn’t want to do that. Everything in her hurt, and all she wanted was one bit of comfort.
“I’m not,” she whispered, when she opened the door. “I’m not okay.”
More tears. She couldn’t stop them from falling. Maybe she should be stronger than this. It was just a drink in her face.
But it wasn’t. It was the accumulation of everything.
Zane cursed before stepping inside her apartment and closing the door. His strong arms slipped behind her knees and back, and he lifted her.
She didn’t fight him. She didn’t even gasp in surprise. She just leaned her head against his chest and breathed him in. Because for whatever reason, he took the edge off all the ugly emotions.
He lowered her to the couch, then crouched in front of her. “Where do you keep your alcohol?”
“Second cabinet to the right.”
She watched as he found the whiskey in the kitchen and two shot glasses. When they were filled, he returned to her and handed her one. She didn’t blink, just threw the shot back, letting the liquid burn the back of her throat and warm her belly.
It felt good. Or maybe that was Zane’s closeness.
He sat beside her and tossed his own back before placing the empty glasses on the end table. “They’re assholes. Everyone who has touched you. Hurt you. Done anything to make you feel like you’re not exactly where you are meant to be are the scum of the earth. And everything they do says nothing about you andeverythingabout them. Do you understand?”
“I know. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”
“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”
One side of her mouth lifted. “Quoting Eleanor Roosevelt. Impressive.”
“I thought the moment called for it.”
Her small smile slipped. “When will it stop? It’s relentless. And everyone is so brazen and obvious with their hate, like they’reproudof it. Even tonight, when I’m standing beside you, with my family a few feet away, they’restillnot afraid to hurt me.”
“I don’t know when it will stop. But you’re not alone, Bonnie. You have your family. And you have me.”
She paused to study him. “Do I? Have you?”
Something flickered over his face. Something hot and dark that she wanted to touch. “Yeah. You do.” He leaned forward and cupped her cheek, and God, she leaned into that touch like it was the only thing keeping her breathing. Then she closed her eyes and turned her head to press a kiss to his wrist.
There was a small intake of air from Zane, and when she looked back at him, he was staring at her like she silenced his inner turmoil as much as he silenced hers.
