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“Who?”
“He’s here,” Zane repeats, his voice hoarse, looking up. His dark eyes are wide and unseeing. “He’s back. I can’t… can’t fucking sleep, I see him everywhere, don’t know what the fuck to do.”
A chilling silence greets his words.
What is he talking about? Whatever it is, it can’t be good, not with Zane’s pale face, the dark smudges under his eyes, the thinness of his cheeks. I brace for the worst.
“Who’s here?” Ash asks, sitting down beside Zane. “Who’s back? Who are you talking about?”
“Tell us, Zane.” I step closer. “Please.”
He glances up at me, his eyes red-rimmed. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
Dakota gets up from her chair and walks around the sofa to sit down beside him, settling baby Lee in the crook of one arm. She snags his hand in hers. “Tell them. Please tell them.”
Zane glances at us, his dark gaze moving from one to the next, bleak and weary and searching. Whatever it is he sees on our faces, it makes his own crumble a little.
He struggles with it, clenching his jaw, and he finally nods, one short, determined movement. “Okay, goddammit. I’ll tell you, for all the fucking good it will do.”
***
The mood is somber as we sit around the coffee table on the two sofas and an assortment of chairs. Jax is playing on the carpet with little Scott while the babies either sleep or try to, and I keep an eye on my own while waiting for Zane to say something more.
Tyler has brought over the whiskey tumbler, and the guys all have a glass in their hands. I wish I could have some, too, but duh, breastfeeding…
I glance at baby Isa, who’s snoozing in her travel crib and can’t hold back a smile, despite my worry for Zane.
Audrey has taken baby Lee from Dakota and is watching him sleep in her arms, and I’m glad to see Dakota and Ash on either side of Zane.
He’s bracketed. Held. Supported. And even though I would like to also take my place by his side, I know he has the best people for the jo
b right there—his wife, and his best friend.
Tyler reaches for my hand, and our fingers tangle together. He squeezes my hand, and I know what he’s telling me. That it will be okay.
God, I shouldn’t doubt it, but I haven’t seen Zane looking this terrible, this…destroyed since his sister died, and that had been a near miss. He almost died, too, locked in a coma for days before he came back to us. Before Dakota brought him back.
She leans into him, their hands interlocked.
Ash is sitting slightly apart from them, his hands hanging between his knees. He’s the one who breaks the silence, and his quiet voice rings out like a gunshot in the terse silence. “A nightmare, huh?”
Zane grunts and rubs a hand over his face. His jaw is scruffy, as if he hasn’t shaved in days. “The nightmare.”
Ash’s eyes slowly go wide. “Holy shit,” he mutters.
Tyler suddenly swears viciously under his breath and glances at Rafe and Dylan who are wearing matching dark scowls. Audrey looks like she’s about to cry, and Megan is biting her lip.
What am I missing? The looks on all their faces tell me they’ve realized what Zane is talking about. What nightmare?
“You said he’s back?” Rafe asks. “Where did you see him? When?”
“You don’t fucking get it.” Zane releases Dakota’s hand to rub both hands over his head, over the shaved sides and his disheveled Mohawk. “I’m not even sure it’s a memory. It’s all in my mind. How can I fight a nightmare?”
He can’t mean… Oh Christ, I’m finally catching up, and please, not that.
Not the asshole who hurt him when he was a child. I don’t know much about it, only what he’d been abused as a child, but it’s enough to make my blood run cold.
“It’s not all in your mind,” Dylan says. “You have the scars.”
