Siren's Fall [Siren's Mark: Book 2]

Chapter 12

𝔸𝕧𝕒

Zane unlocks our front door and it swings open. He drops his keys in a bowl beside the door and sits down at the kitchen bar, pulling his phone out for a moment before placing it to the side.

"So, do you want to talk about it?" he asks, his eyes soft and questioning.

"Which part?" I ask.

"Any of it?"

I feel a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. Even though I trust Zane, I can't shake the fear that the more he knows about my broken family and all my damage, the less he'll want to be with me.

Sometimes it feels impossible to outrun my past. I thought I could get away, start fresh in a new city, and never have to deal with my mom being gone or the only family I have left being manipulative assholes who completely messed me up. Yet here I am, back in my home town and dealing with the same old crap as always.

I sigh, sitting beside him and resting my head against the cool countertop.

I guess I'm going to have to deal with this at some point.

"I told you, my family is messed up," I say. "That was just my dad trying to get me to talk to him again so that I'll give him whatever it is that he wants this time."

"How are you feeling about it?" he asks.

"Is that your way of asking if it's okay that you punched my dad?"

He chuckles slightly before turning to me with a smile.

"No, love," he says. "I saw you fighting back a grin when I punched him, so I took that as your approval. I mean how are you feeling about seeing him and... what he said."

"You mean the part where he accused you of being a drug dealer?" I ask, lifting my head from the counter and giggling. "Or the part where I accused him of wanting to buy off you?"

I'm pretty sure that one seriously scandalized our concierge, because when I had said it he looked like he got about twelve inches shorter shrinking behind that front desk. This place was used to the kind of clientele you see on Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous and my dad and I were going full Real Housewives.

"George seemed pretty afraid of you at that point," Zane says, smirking.

"Is that his name??"

"The concierge? Yes, George."

"Of course it is. That's such a fancy kind of name. You name your kid George and they're immediately limited to jobs done in suits and tuxedos."

"Baby," he says. "I'm 200 years old. Do you think I'm not going to catch on to your attempts to change the subject?"

"Well, that's not fair," I say, scrunching my lips sideways. "You have an advantage."

"It's not supposed to be a competition, love."

I sigh and lie my head back on the bar.

"I just..." I mumble, groaning slightly into the countertop. "I get away from him and I think I'm immune to all his garbage, but then he shows up and I'm right back to letting him get under my skin again. I don't even like the guy and he still manages to affect me and tear me down."

"You know, love, we don't really get to choose our emotions," he says with a soft, empathetic smile. "Otherwise, why would we ever choose the bad ones?"

"I just don't want him to win. He says these things to hurt me, and if he succeeds—then he wins," I say, sitting back up again. Zane looks at me with a mix of pity and concern and his eyes flash green for just a moment.