Zeke(45)

“Sure,” she says, following me into the kitchen.

I reach in the fridge, grab two beers, and crack them open. “Here.” I hand one to her.

“Thanks.” She takes a few long gulps, as if she really needs it, pulls the beer back, and swipes a finger across her wet lip. Her eyes catch mine, and I hold my breath as she moves closer. Cold beer in hand, I freeze when she runs that same finger just on her lip from the corner of my bruised eye down to my scruffy chin. “Got your ass kicked, huh?” She pulls her hand back.

“Yeah.” I lift my beer and tilt it back for my own, much-needed long swig.

“Wasn’t that the night I saw you at JZS, the night you kissed that girl?” Her pretty lips spread just before she takes another sip of her beer.

“Yes, it was.” I set my beer down on the counter; getting the feeling, tonight I might want to remain completely sober. The look Lurlene is giving me, it’s full of defiance, and there are a few unanswered questions there too.

“What happened? Wasn’t your head in it?” Holding her swift smile, she lifts her beer.

“No.” I grab her beer and set it beside mine on the counter. Her head shifts a little to the left as she views me from the corner of her eye. “I was too busy thinking about you,” I say, not about to let her back me into a corner. Whatever she came here for, I’m prepared to deal with it.

“So you didn’t go home with her?”

“No.” I reach around her waist and yank her to me. “I didn’t.”

She tilts her head back, looking up at me. “Why are you so afraid of me?”

Okay, there’s question number one. “I’m not afraid of you. I’m fearful for you. There’s a difference.”

“You think that you’ll hurt me?”

“I know that I will.” I gaze down into her tender, devoted eyes. Man, I want to drop all this bullshit and surrender. I want to love her, but worst of all, I want her to love me.

“What happened the night your,” she pauses, searching my face, “when your parents died.”

Okay, there’s question number two, and fuck, in no way, could I have prepared for it. My parents? Where in the hell did that come from? What does she know? What’s she heard? I slide my hand from her slender waist and take a step back. “You need to leave.”

“No. I’m not leaving. You need to talk about this.” She steps forward, and I stumble back, feeling for the security of that corner I didn’t want to back into, now wanting those walls to come around and suck me in, make me disappear so that I don’t need to answer any more questions.

“Rayna told me you were there that night, Zeke. What happened?”

I shake my head and walk to the door, yanking it open. “I want you to leave.”

She barges over to me and my hand grips tight on the knob. I have to let her go. It’s that, or I tell her what she wants to know.

“You can close the door.” She stops in front of me. “I’m staying.” She places her hands on her hips.

“Let it go, Lurlene. It’s none of your business. It’s got nothing to do with you!”

“It has everything to do with me,” she says, her eyes glossing over. “You won’t let me in, you refuse to accept what I feel for you,” she shoves my shoulder, and I hold tighter to the knob to remain grounded, trying to ignore the pain that I hear in her cracking voice. “You deny me what I want,” she hits me in the chest, “and I need to know why!”

Her fist pounds into me again, and I grab her hand. “Fuck!” I slam the door shut and push her against it, regretting my action the moment our eyes meet. “You’re leaving, Lurlene. In a couple of weeks, you’ll be gone. Please, babe,” I take a deep breath, clench my fists, and rest my forehead against hers. “Please, just let it go.”

“I don’t want to.” She blinks a few times, her watery eyes glistening up at me. “I don’t want to let you go.”

Seeing her pain and confusion, I close my eyes and try to shut it out. How do I tell her what happened that night? How do I explain that my parents are dead because of me? I turn my back to her, take a deep breath, and stare straight ahead. The apartment is so quiet, but I feel her silent presence waiting behind me. I don’t want to let her go either. I can’t let her walk away without explaining to her why I’m letting her go. I know there’s no way out of this. I fucked up here. I’ve fallen for her. And now, I fear that it’s time to surrender.

“There was this man,” I say, muscles quivering beneath my clammy skin, “he was a neighbor. He was nice to me, taught me how to play checkers, how to build a rocket, and he had a microscope. I thought he was so cool. We did things that my brothers and Dad weren’t interested in doing. I liked him.” I shove my hands into my front pockets. The room remains wide open and meticulously quiet as though I’m the only one in it. “One day, I was at his house and,” I stop to draw some air into my suffocating lungs. “And he ... ah,” I look up at the blank white ceiling, feeling that day all over again. I release the air now trapped in my expanded lungs, “he tried to do things to me,” I clear my dry throat, trying to wash away the horrible memory, “things a grown man shouldn’t do to a seven-year-old boy. When I, ah ... finally did get away from him, I ran home and I told my dad. God,” I exhale, “the way he sat there and stared at me, I felt like I’d done something wrong. Then he pulled me into his big strong arms and held me for a long time. I was young, didn’t really understand what was going on,” I lower my head and gaze out at that memory, “but I still cried.” I shove my hands deeper into my pockets. “Dad left the house for a few hours, and Mom said that he took Jax and Slate to Grams’ for the night. When Dad came into my bedroom later that night, I remember his knuckles were all bruised and cut. He told me not tell anyone about what happened. He kissed me on the forehead and …” I sniffle back the burning in my nose as my eyes moisten.