Zane looks at me. “There are just…things about my life you don’t understand.”
“Then explain them to me.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Can’t.”
“That’s convenient. Can’t explain why you left Vegas. Can’t explain who that guy is. Can’t explain why you keep jerking me around.”
“I’m not jerking you around. I promise you that.”
“Your word means shit to me,” I say. “You can’t make me want you and then act like I don’t exist.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
“From me.”
I stare at him, and the anger in my chest shifts into something colder. “You know what? Fuck this. Fuck you and your mysterious bullshit and your protection that I never asked for.”
I start to walk away, but his hand catches my arm. I let out a hiss of air at the sensation of warmth that seeps into my skin and snakes through my insides.
“Tate, wait.”
“Let go of me,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Not until you listen.”
“Listen to what? You haven’t told me shit! You wanna make more evasive excuses about why you can’t be honest with me?”
“I’m being as honest as I can.”
“That’s not enough.”
“It has to be,” he says.
“The fuck it does.”
“You’re right.”
The admission catches me off guard. “What?”
“You’re right. You deserve better than this. You deserve someone who can be honest with you, someone who doesn’t come with baggage that could destroy your career.”
“My career’s already in shambles,as you already know,”I seethe.
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean? Because I’m getting tired of trying to decode everything you say.”
Zane looks at me for a long moment. “I mean you should walk away from this. From me. Before it’s too late.”
“And if I don’t want to walk away?”
“Then you’re making a mistake.”
