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Dylan chews on his lower lip, the silver hoop there glinting, and passes a hand over his short hair. “Zane.”
There. The word, the name, the issue is on the table.
Only, it’s not an issue. Not a problem. It’s goddamn Zane Madden, the heart of the Brotherhood, the axis around which our little universe revolves. He’s the best of us. The one we look up to. The darkest past and the brightest mind. The biggest heart.
He’s not a problem to solve. But he’s ours to protect, ours to keep safe. And it seems we failed him.
“I thought I heard you wrong the first time,” Rafe mutters, frowning. “Shit.”
“What the hell’s going on?” Ash glances from Dylan to Rafe, and then his gaze lands on me, sharp and heavy. “Ty, what’s wrong with Zane?”
“Nothing,” I start, the urge to reassure my little bro overwhelming, but then shake my head. “Not sure.”
“Is he sick?” Since our mom’s death, Ash is kinda paranoid about people getting sick. I can’t blame him, and he hides it pretty well most of the time. “Ty, you’d tell me if he was, right?”
“Yeah. No, he’s not sick. At least, that doesn’t seem to be the problem.”
“He’s not sleeping well,” Dylan says. He glances at me when he repeats what he told me earlier on, “He has night terrors and flashbacks.”
I wince.
I’m damn familiar with those—the nightmares you can’t wake up from until you think you’ll die from fright and pain, and the waking dreams where you walk around thinking you are somewhere else, during some other, fucked up time of your life.
“I thought he got over those,” I whisper. I’ve mostly gotten over mine as my life has settled into a gentler rhythm with the woman I love, my kids, my brother and friends. I thought Zane had experienced the same peace.
“He did, for a while.” Dylan leans back on the sofa, rubbing at his eyes. “They came back.”
“Why the fuck?” Ash is kinda pale, spots of red on his cheeks. Zane is his best buddy, the one who stood by him all the time I was far and gone, wrapped up in my own fucking problems. I know Ash would do anything for him.
As would we all.
“Any idea why he’s getting worse again?” Rafe is also very close to Zane, and there’s a tic in his jaw as he puts down his beer and gestures at Dylan to say more. “Did something happen?”
“Could be the stress of the new baby,” I mutter, although wouldn’t Dylan have said something about it if that was the case?
“Baby boy’s fine,” Dylan says. “Dakota, too, as far as I know.”
He looks doubtful.
Rafe makes a sound of frustration. “Did you talk to Zane? Was he the one who told you all this?”
“No. Dakota mentioned it the other day when we met by chance at Damage. But I knew that something was up with Zane. I mean, fuck, he never comes to the gym anymore, doesn’t talk to us. Dakota says he’s missed half his work appointments this past month.”
I know that. I was the one who had to reschedule his customers, or ask the other inkers of the shop if they could replace him. Thank fuck we have more artists working at the shop now with Shane, Seth and Jesse who finished their apprenticeships in the past year.
But I never gave it much thought. I assumed it had to do with the baby and Dakota, and hey, it’s not as if I haven’t missed work days to help out at home these past months.
“He did seem too quiet last time I saw him,” Rafe mutters. “Fuck, fuck. How did I miss the clues?”
“Makes two of us, man.”
“You guys have newborns in your families,” Ash growls. “What’s my excuse?”
“Hey, before you guys start beating yourselves over the head, how about we fucking talk about this?”
“What’s there to talk about?” Rafe leans back, scowling. “We know nothing. We have to talk to Zane.”
“Good luck with that,” Dylan says. “Think I haven’t fucking tried? He won’t see me. Says he’s too busy.”
