Hold Me Close - Talia Hibbert Page 0,307

her lips, scared off by the excruciating exposure of this situation. She hadn’t been prepared for conflict, or for Zach to drag at secrets she couldn’t possibly share—never mind for his confession, as wonderful as it was. Her heart pounded, her palms began to sweat, and she felt familiar panic lap at her mind like waves against the shore.

“If you don’t still care about Kevin, why do you have his book?” Zach asked, soft but urgent. “I need you to tell me. Can you do that?”

She heard the words he’d never say, the ones she deserved. Can you do that single fucking thing for me? It’s not like you’ve done anything else.

She wanted to. So badly. But then, over Zach’s shoulder, she caught sight of Kevin moving through the room, grinning wide and shaking hands, accepting congratulations. The past seemed so close all of a sudden.

“I can’t,” she whispered. “Not right now. Can’t you—just—trust me?”

Zach’s gaze remained wary, but something about him seemed to unfurl, as if his soul were turning toward hers again. He asked in turn, “Do you trust me?”

She laughed, high-pitched and a little hysterical. She didn’t mean to; it just happened, a reflexive response to a preposterous question. Of course Rae didn’t trust him—she loved him. The two things never mixed.

But Zach clearly didn’t see the humour. She watched him ice over before her eyes, cold, cold, cold. Her laughter died in her throat, and she realised all at once how badly she was fucking this up. As always.

He spoke quietly, his voice hard. “You won’t ever trust me, will you?”

“I—” She hadn’t thought about it. She couldn’t think about it. “I don’t know. It’s not that simple. But Zach, if you just—”

“No.” The word was sharp, like it had burst out of him without permission. Then he repeated, softer, slower. “No, Rae. I think I’ve been fooling myself this weekend. Filling in all your gaps. But I don’t want to be that person anymore.”

The gentleness in his voice knocked the air out of her lungs. Filling in her gaps. That sounded about right—and she had so fucking many. Must be so exhausting. But still, selfishly, she whispered, “Please.”

“I’m leaving,” he said. “Tonight. I think that’s for the best.”

Chapter 15

Heading home had been the smartest choice.

So what if Rae had seemed so alone, standing separate amongst a crowd as she watched Zach walk away? And so what if he’d thought he glimpsed pain in those helpless, hypnotic eyes? Of course she was hurt. They cared about each other—but clearly not enough, and Zach was exhausted by the constant imbalance in his relationships. He’d shoved down his feelings, rage or despair or discomfort, for so many people, just to make them happy. But he refused to hide love or longing. He refused to accept lust and affection without trust. He refused to make himself right for Rae. Not because she wasn’t important enough, but because she was everything.

It hurt too much.

So, he had made a clean break. And yet, three days later, Zach didn’t feel clean at all. He was blazing with anger at nothing in particular, or maybe at himself. His mind was all jagged edges, torn-up bits and pieces of the man he wanted to be. He stood under his shower’s scalding hot spray after a long day at work, muscles screaming almost as loud as his head. While the water ran into his eyes, he stared blankly at the tiles and tried not to think about Rae.

Rae, Rae, Rae.

Maybe he should’ve noticed that she had feelings for Kevin. Maybe, if he’d pulled his head out of his arse—no, out of her arse—for five seconds, he would’ve.

He twisted the shower off a bit harder than necessary, ignoring the screech of his shitty, old plumbing. The floorboards creaked as he dried off and got dressed, reminding him of Rae’s horror at his ‘serial killer house’. The memory made him want to smile, which made him want to fucking cry. He was a fool. He was a mess. He was in love, and he was furious about it. So furious that he simply stood for a moment, staring at nothing, wondering how to handle this.

His first thought was to calm down, take deep breaths, and let the moment pass. But it had been days now, and this ‘moment’ wasn’t passing at all. In fact, he didn’t want it to. Sitting with it, feeling it, felt raw and real and right.

And he had a feeling that talking about