“If Zane doesn’t kill him first, yeah.”
She blows out a breath and grabs my hand. “You can kill someone?” she whispers.
“If my life depends on it,” I answer, honestly. I had no choice but to kill Sal, and if it comes down to me or my father, I’ll be the one walking away this time.
“I don’t know if I could ever be with Kace,” she blurts out.
“Why?” I ask, even though I know it’s entirely based on this conversation.
She gets up and begins to pace in front of the bed. “I didn’t grow up around this kind of violence. People die and you guys just sit around drinking beer like it’s just another day. I can’t do that; I can’t pretend it doesn’t bother me.”
I want to get up and hug her, but it will take me too long to get up alone. “Ivy, come here,” I say. She sits on the bed and I grab her hand with mine. Her sad brown eyes lock with mine and I smile. “First of all, it’s not always like this. You just happen to come at a time when everything is at its worst. Most of the time we, the ones not sitting around the table, have no idea what is going on. Zane and I started this war, so I’m sorry that’s what you’re experiencing. But, let me ask you a question, are you starting to get feelings for Kace?”
A single tear rolls down her cheek and she roughly pushes it away. “Yes,” she says so quietly, I barely hear her.
“You need to talk to him, Ivy. But, I’m gonna tell you right now, if you want Kace, you’re gonna need to accept the club. He’ll never walk away, and he’ll never be with someone who can’t handle it,” I say.
“I’m not ready to talk to him yet. We’re barely
friends.” She looks up and blinks rapidly, holding back her tears. She shakes her head and finally looks at me. “Anyway, enough about that shit. Do you want something to drink besides water?”
I’m not going to push her. This decision is hers and hers alone. When she’s ready to talk, I’ll listen. “An iced tea would be great.”
She leaves the room and I look around. I’m surrounded by Zane’s stuff. The black dresser to my right has his clothes piled on top. The huge closet in front of me holds all his belongings. Even this king-sized bed I’m lying in screams Zane. With the black headboard, gray comforter, and serious lack of throw pillows. I’m not even sure how much of my stuff is here. I need to talk to him about it all. I have a house and all my belongings are there. I realize I need help right now, so I know I can’t go home alone, but what am I doing here? I can’t have Zane make all my decisions. I won’t allow it. I’ve never had a say in what I did under my father’s rule. That will never happen again.
“Hey, babe,” Zane says, making me jump. “Shit, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He sits next to me and kisses my head.
“It’s okay, I just wasn’t paying attention,” I say.
“How are you feeling? You hungry? Need a pain pill? Want to shower?” He adjusts my covers and fixes the pillows behind my back.
“Zane, please stop. I’m fine.” I’m starting to feel like a child.
“Stop what? Asking what you need?” he questions, folding his tattooed arms.
“Stop making me feel like I’m your damn kid. I can fix my own covers,” I warn, narrowing my eyes.
He laughs lightly and leans over, rubbing my shoulder. “I know you can, babe. Are you getting tired?”
I close my eyes and shake my head. If he asks me another question, I might lose my fucking mind. “Yeah, I’m gonna nap.”
“I wish you’d eat something first.”
My eyes snap open and I see the shock on his face when my angry eyes hit his. “Enough,” I yell.
He stands up and leans over the bed, bracing his hands on either side of me. I feel his breath blowing across my skin, his jaw is ticking, and his muscular arms are shaking. There’s that anger he keeps pushing down. I know I told him he needed to, but we are both hiding how we truly feel, and this is now where we’re at.
“Enough, what?” he hisses.
“Enough of the fucking questions, enough of the fluffing of my pillows, enough of acting like something catastrophic didn’t happen,” I yell in his face.
His eyes burn into mine, pure fury in them. “You think I don’t know that? You think it’s easy to walk around smiling and acting like the world around us isn’t under attack? You told me to handle my business, so that’s what I’m doing. Taking care of you is my fucking business.”
I say it before I can stop myself. “Maybe if you stayed home that night, I wouldn’t be in need of being taken care of.”
He jerks back like I’ve slapped him across the face. Angry and regret flash across his face, but he settles on anger. He stands up slowly and shakes his head, never losing eye contact with me. “You fucking blame me?” he shouts.
“Well, if you would’ve just stayed here and let me handle it, it would be over,” I say, lifting my shoulder.