Chapter 60

From the open doorway, I stared at the guy who'd rocked my world only a few hours ago.

If he wanted to cuss me out, fine. He could go right ahead. But he'd be hearing some choice words in return.

I crossed my arms and waited.

Zane looked down and gave a slow shake of his head. When he finally looked up, all he said was, "You didn't answer your phone."

"What phone? The hotel phone?"

"No. Your cell. I called you maybe thirty minutes ago."

I had received a call while I'd been talking to Charlotte. But I hadn't recognized the number, so I'd let it go to voicemail.

I asked, "Did you leave a message?"

"No," he said. "I came in person."

I gave him a look. "Yes. You sure did."

"Meaning?"

I made a sound of frustration. "The thing with Bob, are we just going to pretend that it didn't happen?"

"If you're lucky, we are."

Was that a joke? It didn't sound like a joke. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, you were supposed to stay out of it."

My arms dropped to my sides. "Why?"

"Because it's not your problem. And I don't want it to be."

This might've been a lovely idea, if only the so-called problem hadn't arrived on my proverbial doorstep. With a sigh of frustration, I looked away.

Zane said, "If you've got something to say, go ahead."

I looked back to him and said, "Well, I guess I am wondering how you can be so awful."

His mouth tightened. "To you?"

That was the million-dollar question, wasn't it?

What was the price of my soul? Even if this was more than a fling, and even if he did end up treating me wonderfully, would I seriously be able to stand by while he abused everyone else? And if so, what kind of person would that make me?

His question was more complicated than he realized. Was he awful to me? No. Especially not lately. But it was awful to see him kick someone when they were down. I murmured, "I don't know."

His voice was flat. "You don’t know."

Obviously, he didn't get it. Desperately, I tried to explain. "I just don't know what to think, you know, after the thing with Bob."

"Forget him," Zane said. "He's gone."

"Yeah, but to where? I mean, you kicked him out of his house."

"No," Zane said in a tone of forced patience. "I kicked him out of my house. Big difference."

"But you're not even living there." I searched his face. "Are you?"

"You know where I live."

Yes. I did. He lived in a giant mansion with so many rooms, he probably got lost at night. And where was Bob living? I didn't even want to speculate.

"But seriously," I said, "aren't you worried? He looked so pathetic."

"Yeah. He did. And you wanna know why?"

"Why?"

"So he could take advantage of someone too dumb to know better."

I drew back. "Did you just call me dumb?"

Zane's expression softened. "I wasn't talking about you."

Sure he wasn't.

I almost felt like crying. And it wasn't only because I felt bad for Bob. All of this was making me remember – belatedly, it seemed – how heartless Zane could be.

I almost didn't know what to say.

As the silence stretched out between us, I couldn’t help but recall my conversation with Charlotte. What if, heaven forbid, I did love this guy? What then?

The answer was obvious. He'd break my heart and stomp on the pieces. It was only a matter of time.

In front of me, Zane's expression grew stormier with every passing moment. Finally, he said, "Whatever you're thinking, you're wrong."

Was I?

In front of me, he looked anything but warm and welcoming. I snuck a worried glance over my shoulder. Behind me, all I saw was a temporary room, reserved for a job that I no longer had.

This posed a troubling question. Why was I still here, anyway?

From the look on Zane's face, he was wondering the same thing.

I heard myself say, "I'm going home."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Are you forgetting your roommate? And her boyfriend?"

I wasn't forgetting anything. But as far as a reason to stay, it was sadly lacking. Besides, I'd have to go home sometime, right?

I said, "It'll be fine."

His jaw tightened. "Will it?"

"Yes. Definitely." My throat felt tight as I went on to explain. "As far as Paisley, I've handled her fine so far. And, well, with the professor, he's probably already moved on."

"Uh-huh." Zane looked far from convinced. "To who?"

"I dunno. Someone else."

"And if he hasn't?"

"Then I'll deal with it."

After a long moment, he said, "Jane, listen. If it's the house that's bothering you—"

I held up a hand. "You know what? You don't need to explain. After all, like you said, it's none of my business."

"You're right. It's not."

I summoned up a stiff smile. "See? Problem solved."

Ignoring my comment, Zane continued. "But I'd rather tell you than have you look at me like you're looking at me now."

"It's not just the house," I said. "It's everything. And really, it doesn't even matter."

"Oh yeah? Why not?"

How to explain? I gave a hopeless shrug. "I guess, because we're so different."

"Yeah. We are. But that doesn't have to be a problem."

Maybe not for him. But it would be for me. After all, how many times could I watch him being awful to somebody before I ended up despising him?

Maybe it was unfair. Maybe I was being stupid. But at that particular moment, all I wanted was some time to think.

When I made no reply, Zane said, "Everything I do, I've got my reasons."

I gave a bitter laugh. "Oh, I'm sure you do."

Zane stiffened, and I felt a tiny twinge of guilt. It only reinforced what I knew all along. We were totally different people. He could chew someone up and spit them out without breaking a sweat. But me? I felt awful every time I hurt someone.

Even now, part of me worried that I might be hurting him, as crazy as that sounded. I heard myself murmur, "This would never work."

Zane's posture grew rigid. "What?"

"I'm just saying…" I blinked long and hard. "I really need to go."

Zane looked at me for a long moment before saying, "All right. You wanna go home? I'm not gonna fight you."

Good. It was, after all, for the best – or at least, that's what I kept telling myself, even as the heaviness grew in my heart.

Still, I gave a quick, silent nod.

"Fine," he said. "We'll leave at five tomorrow. And that's morning. Not night. The car will be waiting out front." As he turned to go, he added, "Be there. Or I'll come and get you myself."

I gave a quick shake of my head. "But wait, you said we – as in both of us – leave tomorrow?"

He turned back to say. "Right. That's what I was coming to tell you."

"Sorry, I don't get it. You were coming to tell me what exactly?"

"That we're done here. No need to stick around, right?"

Ouch.

What could I say? In barely a whisper, I said, "Right."

With a tight nod, he turned and strode away, leaving me standing in the open doorway. As I watched him go, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was incredibly lucky that Bob showed up when he did – or if it was the worst thing that could've happened at the worst possible time.

But obsessing wouldn’t change anything. And besides, I hadn't expected this to be a long-term thing, anyway – or at least, that's what I kept repeating to myself over and over, even as I packed my bags for the trip home.

While hurling things into my suitcases, I tried to take some satisfaction from the fact that, unlike the rest of Zane's flings, I'd at least shown a little dignity.

But dignity – or any other lofty ideal – didn't keep me warm that night as I tossed and turned in the cold and empty bed, wishing like crazy to turn back the clock.

After that restless night, followed by a tense ride to the airport, Zane and I boarded his private jet before the sun even peeked over the horizon.

And then, we were off.

Across from me sat Zane, grim and silent, staring at nothing in particular. Stupidly, I found myself longing for the dubious company of Teddy or even What's-Her-Name – anything to break the lingering tension.

After two silent hours, Zane looked to me and said, "Tell me."

I almost jumped at the sound of his voice. "Tell you what?"

"What you're thinking."

I tried to smile. "Right now, I'm thinking that I'd better keep my mouth shut."

"Yeah? And why's that?"

"Because," I said with a glance toward the window, "I think we're like ten minutes from Kalamazoo."

He frowned. "Was that a joke?"

Was it? I couldn’t be sure either way. I gave a small shrug. "Maybe. Honestly, I'm not sure."

His gaze locked on mine. "So that's what you think? That I'd ditch you at some random city?"

"Well, you ditched her."

"Yeah, I did." His voice hardened. "And admit it. You were glad."

I stiffened. "I was not."

"You wanna keep telling yourself that? Fine by me. But we both know what you were thinking."

"Yeah. I was horrified."

"Maybe," he said. "But you were glad, too, whether you'll admit it or not."

"And what if I don't admit it?" I said. "Will you be dropping me in Kalamazoo?"

He looked away. "No."

"Oh yeah? And why not?"

"Because we passed it five minutes ago."

Now, it was my turn to ask, "Was that a joke?"

He was still looking away. "Hell if I know."

As an answer, it was oddly unsatisfying, but I was smart enough to not press the issue. After all, the flight wasn't over yet, and unless I wanted to cool my heels in Fort Wayne or wherever, I knew better than to push my luck.

So instead, I leaned back and tried to think of anything but him – not that I had any success.

When we landed, another limo was waiting. To my lingering despair, he told me flat-out that he was seeing me home. Just like so many other things, it was sweet and terrible all at the same time.

But I knew better than to argue – because from the look on his face, it was pretty obvious that I wouldn't win.

Through all of this – all of the tension, all of the silence, all of the unanswered questions – I tried to console myself with one single thought. Soon, I could crawl into my own bed, have a good cry, and then forget that Zane Bennington ever existed.

There was only one problem. When we pulled up to my house, it looked nothing like it had when I left. In fact, I wasn't even sure how to describe it.

As I stared at the destruction, only one word came to mind.

Squashed.