Zane Knox is the only man who has ever possessed the power to break me.
My dad certainly tried; that’s for sure. He broke plenty of my bones—shattered any hope I had of ever being worth something—but Zane Knox pieced me back together in such a way that, even in my darkest moments, there was a light surrounding me.
I believed that, as long as I had him, everything would be okay.
And then I lost him, too.
“I don’t hate you,” I reply. “I just don’t have anything for you.”
He cocks his head to the side to study me in that way he does. Like he can see straight through what I want him to see, and deep into all that I try to hide. “What makes you think I want something?”
“The fact that you’re here,” I reply coolly. “You followed me all the way out here because you’re looking for any shred of the girl you knew before. She’s gone. Dead and buried along with the remnants of our relationship.” The words are frigid, but my voice trembles as I force myself to say what he needs to hear. Or rather, what I need him to hear because he’s still looking at me like I was good enough for him.
I never was.
Zane doesn’t respond, so I turn away from him and limp over toward the closet. Since my apartment was ransacked, I can’t go back there. Which means the only clothes I own are the ones on my back. Thankfully, I still wear roughly the same size I did in high school, so my hope is that there are still some clothes here I can salvage.
“How is your pain?” It shouldn’t thrill me that he cares, but it does. There was never a safer place for me than in his strong arms. Even back when we were little more than teenagers with no idea what waited for us on the other side of a marriage we were probably far too young to be considering in the first place.
But I can’t focus on that now because it’s dangerous territory. Like treading water in the middle of a hurricane. Outside, more thunder booms. The storm is right on the horizon now—much like the one in my heart.
“Why didn’t you become a doctor?” I counter as I withdraw a pair of jeans and a baggy t-shirt. They smell terrible, so I shove them back into the closet. I might be desperate to stop looking like I walked through a muddy fan blade, but not that desperate.
Crossing to my dresser, I wait for him to answer.
Zane lets out a deep breath. “I will only answer your questions if you start answering mine.”
Run, Tessa. Put distance between you two, and be done with it.
Unfortunately, curiosity has always gotten the better of me. “Fine. But we don’t talk about the night I left. I won’t answer a single thing about that. And I get the option of saying pass.” It’s a precedent that needs to be set because I can’t have him knowing the truth. Not even now, all these years later.
“The same goes for me, then,” he replies.
I withdraw a pair of sweats and a baggy t-shirt from my bottom drawer. Since these were somewhat closed in, the smell is subtle enough that I can deal with it. “Deal. I need to change first.”
Without waiting for me to ask, he starts to turn—then hesitates. He doesn’t even have to speak the words for me to know why he takes a pause.
“I won’t bail, Zane.” I’m honestly surprised it’s the truth, but maybe that’s more good that can come of my being here. I can finally close the chapter, not just on this trailer—but on Zane, too.
Without another word, he moves out into the hall and closes the door. The panic kicks in the moment that faint click registers.
Trapped.
My breathing goes ragged, and the walls begin to close in on me. How many times was I locked in this room?
Darkness overtakes the edges of my vision, and my heart hammers so loud I can’t even hear the storm brewing outside.
How many times did my father trap me in here because he was angry?
How many times did I go days without food because I was too afraid to sneak out the window to find some?
I don’t even hear the door open, but then Zane is in front of me. “Breathe, Tessa.” His hands go to my face, and I suck in a ragged breath, still too terrified to be bothered that he’s seeing me like this. “You’re safe. You can see me. I’m here. Feel my hands.”
Touch. Sight. Sound. I use those senses to get a grasp on reality, but it’s still not enough.
I’ll never be safe. Not really. What happened in Savannah is proof of that.
“Lord, please wrap Tessa in Your arms. Please help her focus on You.”
