Chapter 17: Present

~ ZEV ~

"Sasha—"

"Don't!" she whispered and turned for the dresser to pull more clothing out. "You broke me, Zev. You devastated me. My whole life is different because of you. You can't… you can't just walk back in now. I'm different. I grew up. I don't need you like I did back then."

He blinked and double-checked that she was still packing. Her face… she'd gone white, though there were high spots of color in her cheeks that made her look feverish. But he could smell her anger and grief. The words she was saying… they weren't an act. Not entirely, anyway.

He clenched his teeth and went back to his search. "You don't know what happened. I wasn't leaving you. I was saving you."

"Saving me?!" she gasped, then laughed humorlessly. "Is that what you told yourself? That disappearing, leaving me thinking you were hurt, or broken, or DEAD… you told yourself you did that for my good?"

"You don't understand—"

"No! I don't! You're right! But I'll tell you I understand a helluva lot more now than I did back then. What an idiot I was, you must have laughed."

"I never laughed at you," he growled.

She scoffed. "That story about your dad working nights so we could never hang out at your house. I mean, stroke of brilliance. It wasn't until after you left that I even realized what you'd done, keeping me so far away from your family, from anything or anyone that could have held you accountable."

"I never kept you apart—"

"YES, YOU FUCKING DID AND DON'T DENY IT!" she screamed, throwing something black and soft into the bag, then standing there, facing him, her hands in fists at her sides.

She was breaking. He stared at her, let her see that her pain was his. That he'd never disregarded her. Never forgotten. But she shook her head. She didn't believe him.

And it was going to break his heart all over again.

He stepped towards her and her face crumpled.

*****

~ SASHA ~

This was stupid and ridiculous, and not the time. But once the words had started she hadn't been able to stop them. Even as she kept checking that he wasn't leaving her. That he was pretending… she wasn't pretending. Not really.

He stared at her, his eyes pleading—but still shadowed and wary in a way that terrified her. Fear that she'd turn around and he'd be gone again kept twisting in her gut. She needed answers. And she'd lied. She very much needed him.

"They didn't believe me," she whispered then, her vision blurring as his forehead pressed into lines.

"Who?"

"Everyone," she said. Then she turned back to the dresser to look for her scarf because she couldn't bear for him to see her face when she felt so vulnerable. "They didn't believe me that you loved me. They said we were too young, that it was… it was sad that I'd been so fooled. They… they pitied me. And they talked about me behind my back. And they made it all cheap and sick and…"

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"Sash," he murmured, but she couldn't look up. She found the scarf twisted around her gloves and hat at the back of a drawer and she dragged them out to add them to the bag.

"For a year… for a year I still woke up every day certain you'd be there. You'd come back," she whispered. "By that time they'd started laughing at me. My parents… my parents thought I was literally insane."

He made a tiny noise in his throat and was suddenly next to her. She hadn't realized he was so close, to reach her in just a step like that. The smell of him came with him and she covered her face in her hands. The urge to fall into his chest was so strong she physically hurt. But she couldn't. She knew she couldn't. Something crazy was happening, and no matter what she felt, or what she thought, they had to get out of there. And he… he didn't deserve it. That was the truth she reminded herself.

He didn't deserve to have her so easily.

Except… except if the boy she'd known had become a man and hadn't lost himself… that man did deserve her. She wanted that man.

Wiping her eyes with the heels of her hands, she looked up to find him, standing over her again, his hands open and halfway between them, as if he'd reached for her and stopped himself. Then he leaned in and for a flash she thought he was going to kiss her. Her heart slammed into her ribs—except instead he bent into her ear and, holding her upper arms, he breathed, "I'm going to lie now."

She blinked as he straightened. "What?"

"I said, they were right. You WERE insane."

She flinched and he closed his eyes, his brows pinching over his nose as if the words hurt him to say. "We were kids. You pined for a year?  What the fuck were you thinking? When I saw you tonight I thought maybe we could reconnect, remember old times, have a little fun. But this? You're out of your mind, Sasha. It was five years ago. Let it go."

"Get out," she ground out.

"Gladly," he snapped, but those lines had appeared at the sides of his mouth that meant he was really stressed. He picked up the duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder. "See ya."

She made a noise, indignation and hurt and a touch of rage, as he stormed out of the room.

He glanced back just before he passed through the door, his eyes begging her to understand, to remember, to follow.

She turned away from that look, because if she kept staring she was going to run after him right away, and that's not what he was supposed to do.

"I should have known," she sobbed. "Should have known. Fuck!"

She dropped onto the end of the bed and clawed her hands into her hair.

What if he was lying about lying? What if he'd really left? What if she was going to get out there and he wasn't there?

What if this whole thing was a hallucination drummed up by her Zev-induced psychosis?

She hadn't been lying when she said her family thought she was nuts. Her mother had even taken her to a psychiatrist more than once.

She looked around. There was no sign of him. No sound. She hadn't heard the door open or close. Nothing. She was in her room, in her apartment.

Had the whole fucking thing been a dream?

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