All this domesticity was affecting his sense of purpose, and while Roach wasn’t the kind of spineless, cruel man Zane used to see him as, he still wanted Roach gone from his life for good.
“Gonna get some coffee and snacks,” Zane said, shooting to his feet and heading for the door.
“Sure,” Roach said absentmindedly, staring at Gale. For once, Zane wasn’t jealous at all.
He stalled, watching the shallow wrinkles by Roach’s eyes, the set of his lips, the broad shoulders that carried Gale with such ease a few hours back, but the moment Roach must have felt Zane’s gaze and looked up, Zane stormed out, not bothering to shut the door behind him.
Breathless, he leaned against the wall and rubbed his face, sick of the scent of disinfectant already. And of the green laminate floor. And the pale walls. And all the nurses in scrubs.
He hated hospitals. But he loathed this one most of all.
He didn’t want to go get the coffees just yet because that meant he’d have to traverse the maze of corridors that shoved him straight back to a reality he didn’t want to remember.
Roach’s voice made him look up, but its volume made it clear the words weren't directed at him. Had Gale woken up? The insistent voice telling Zane Roach was now professing his love to Gale made him hold his breath and listen.
“…I’ll work it out somehow, I promise, we’ll get you the best rehab. I just… Zane’s got no savings, and I don’t wanna tell him that Culver pays him peanuts. He’s always so happy when he talks about his earnings. It would crush him. He’s got this problem with numbers, but he’d never admit it, he’s too self-conscious about it. I just went with it so he wouldn’t be embarrassed, and… fuck. If you knew what a doormat I am, you’d laugh at me so hard.”
It was like a punch in Zane’s chest, but he stayed still, squeezing his aching throat as he inhaled. Humiliation ate at his stomach, drilling deeper until Zane could practically smell his own blood. So the pay wasn’t much? If that was the case, where had the cash Roach did give him as leftovers from covering their living expenses come from? He knew the answer, and it made him bite his lips so he didn’t whimper.
This was the last thing he’d expect of Roach. Anyone who’d ever noticed Zane’s trouble with counting made fun of him or tried to take advantage of his condition, so he’d developed ways to conceal it. From pretending he was recklessly generous, to claiming someone stole his wallet when he didn’t have enough cash on him. Roach—that stain on Zane’s life, the parasite who forced him to stay in a place where Zane’s life fell off a cliff—cared for Zane enough to pretend he’d been fooled.
“But I really like him,” Roach said with a deep sigh. “Even if he says he’ll kill me one day, I don’t think he will. If I keep him happy, he might just stick around, so we’ll keep this money thing secret. And you’ll be friends with him one day too. I won’t leave you on your own again. I’ll see how much the rehab costs, and we’ll take it from there.”
Zane hugged himself tightly, his brain a mess of tenderness and worry. How was this guy the same person who’d pushed him off the cliff and left? Maybe he wasn’t? Maybe Roach the biker had died along with his brethren, and the person left behind, the gentle man with a lot of patience and just a bit of a temper, wasn’t him anymore, even if they shared a body and a name.
Because this guy… he was solid. Honest. Ready to make sacrifices for people he cared about, whether he’d get the same in return or not. And Zane had treated him so badly at times while Roach had been taking on so much extra work to protect him from embarrassment and keep both of them afloat.
Zane couldn’t listen anymore, too afraid Roach might say something impossible to un-hear. How had they gotten to this point? Zane sleepwalked his way down the corridor, dazed by what he’d uncovered.
Sometimes, Roach could be sweet, like that time he’d brought Zane pancakes to bed, other times—annoying as all fuck, like when he’d gotten so drunk he’d fallen asleep behind the dumpster and Zane hadn’t been able to find him, but he’d never told Zane that he liked him, or that he wanted them to stay together. They fucked, they were trying to de-curse themselves, and they lived together because it made sense both financially and because Zane wanted to keep an eye on Roach. Definitely not because they had feelings for one another.
Zane had to fight the unwanted tenderness spreading in his heart like weeds. He couldn’t allow it to poison his thinking no matter how nice it smelled, because his revenge wouldn’t be complete as long as Roach existed. Keeping that fire alive was everything. Roach’s existence was a bitter reminder of Zane’s humiliation and torture. The things he’d been through would never go away completely, and letting Roach live would be like leaving those old wounds to fester. Zane needed to cut him off, even if that meant slicing his own arm off in the process.