When Colton got back, Zack was going to say it. No more hiding behind jokes or deflection. Just three words that felt bigger than anything he'd ever said before.
A knock echoed through the apartment.
Colton must’ve finished early. Tossing the wipe into the trash, Zack crossed to the door and yanked it open, his grin already spreading across his face.
Craig stood on the other side.
Grin dying on his lips, Zack's stomach dropped. Every instinct screamed at him to slam the door, throw the lock, call Colton. Instead, he forced his mouth into something resembling calm and kept his hand steady on the doorknob.
“Craig.” Keeping his voice level took more effort than it should have. “What do you want?”
Before he could react, Craig shoved past him, shoulder knocking into Zack's as he barged inside. Stumbling back a step, Zack caught himself against the wall, pulse already kicking into overdrive.
Craig's gaze swept the apartment, taking in the cleaned counter, the throw pillows Zack had just fluffed, the faint coconut scent still lingering in the air. “Looks like you’ve been playing house.”
Heat crawled up Zack's neck, but he pushed away from the wall and planted himself between his brother and the rest of the apartment. “You need to leave.”
“Do I?” Craig turned, mouth twisted into something ugly. “Because last time I checked, you embarrassed the hell out of me in front of your new big daddy.”
Big daddy. The words dripped with mockery, each syllable designed to cut. Zack's hands curled into fists at his sides, nails biting into his palms.
“You're only embarrassed if you let yourself feel that way,” he said, keeping his tone as neutral as possible.
Wrong thing to say. Craig's expression darkened, eyes narrowing into slits. Crossing the distance between them in two strides, he loomed close enough that Zack could smell stale cigarettes and something sour underneath.
“So that was my fault?” Craig's voice dropped low, vibrating with anger.
The backhand came out of nowhere. Pain exploded across Zack's cheek, snapping his head to the side. Momentum carried him into the wall, shoulder slamming against plaster with enough force to rattle the picture frame hanging above the couch.
Ears ringing, vision blurring at the edges, Zack pressed a hand to his stinging face. Warmth spread across his skin where Craig's knuckles had connected, and he could already feel the swelling starting.
“Get out!” The words tore from his throat, louder than he meant them, raw and desperate. “Get the hell out of my apartment!”
Craig didn’t move. If anything, he stepped closer, blocking the path to the door. Rage twisted his features into something barely recognizable, all the fake charm stripped away to reveal the violence underneath.
“You think you can just disrespect me? Act like I'm nothing?” Spit flew with each word. “You owe me, Zack. After everything I've done for you—”
“Done for me?” A bitter laugh escaped before Zack could stop it. “You've never done anything for me except make my life hell.”
Mistake. Huge mistake. Recognition flashed in Craig's eyes, the kind that said Zack had just crossed a line.
Before he could dodge, Craig's fist drove into his stomach.
All the air punched out of Zack’s lungs in one violent exhale. Agony bloomed hot and vicious, radiating from the point of impact and spreading through his entire torso. His legs gave out, and he crumpled, knees hitting the floor hard enough to send fresh pain shooting up his thighs.
Gasping, choking, trying desperately to drag oxygen back into his body, Zack curled forward. One hand pressed against his abdomen where the punch had landed, the other braced against the floor to keep him from collapsing completely. Each attempt to breathe felt like swallowing broken glass.
“Look at you.” Craig's voice drifted down from somewhere above him, cold and detached. “Pathetic. Just like always.”
Tears pricked at the corners of Zack's eyes, half from pain and half from sheer helplessness. Every muscle in his body screamed at him to get up, fight back, do something, but he couldn't even manage a full breath yet.
“This is your fault, you know.” Craig crouched down, close enough that Zack could see the scuffed leather of his boots. “All of it. Mom and Dad? That's on you.”
Still struggling to breathe, Zack forced his head up. Words came out strangled, barely audible. “Car accident. Wasn't... my fault.”
“Wasn't it?” Something shifted in Craig's tone, a dangerous edge sliding into place. “Funny how accidents happen when people get in the way.”
Through the haze of pain and oxygen deprivation, those words wormed their way into Zack's brain. Slowly, piece by piece, they started connecting to memories he'd tried not to think about too hard.
