Chapter 222 - Toxic
"Stop," he shouted.
Roxie twisted her hands. "Let go."
"Then quit hitting me."
"Let go of me."
She tried bringing one knee up toward his leg.
Zac moved closer and trapped her wrists against her chest. His grip tightened, and pain moved through the healing marks around her left wrist.
"You’re hurting me," Roxie said, her voice thinning.
Zac looked down at his hands, then toward his ribs. "And you weren’t hurting me?"
"I said let go."
He loosened his grip slightly but kept her against the wall.
Roxie pulled again.
Zac’s face tightened from the effort of holding her and the pain in his ribs. His bruised mouth remained close to hers, and his breathing stayed hard.
"Stop trying to hit me."
"Get off me."
"Are you gonna shove me again?"
"I don’t know."
"Then I’m not letting go," Zac said too quickly.
Roxie stared at him.
The answer frightened her.
His fingers still circled both wrists. He was stronger, and they both knew it. She had stopped hitting him, but he continued keeping her trapped because he expected her to start again.
"If you step out, we’re done," Roxie said, her voice cracking on the final word.
Zac went still.
Roxie saw the line hit him before his expression changed.
His grip tightened without him seeming to notice.
Then his face twisted.
"Maybe we need space," he said quietly.
The room became silent.
Roxie stopped pulling.
Everything inside her went still.
Zac’s anger disappeared immediately, and his fingers loosened around her wrists.
"Roxie."
She slapped him.
Her palm struck the damaged side of his face. Zac’s head turned, and blood appeared along the cut on his lip.
Roxie lifted her hand again, but he caught her wrist before she reached him.
Neither spoke.
Zac held her hand several inches from his face. His visible eye had widened, and his chest rose sharply against hers.
Roxie looked at the blood on his mouth.
She had put it there again.
Panic came fast.
Zac was going to leave. He would take the bag, return to Dylan, and tell everyone she had attacked him. He would sit on the same couch while those girls touched his hands and cleaned his face.
Roxie grabbed the front of his shirt with her free hand and kissed him.
Zac froze.
"Stop," he said roughly against her mouth.
"I’m sorry." Roxie’s voice shook as tears ran down her face and wet both of their lips. "I just want you with me."
Zac stared at her.
Roxie held his shirt tighter. "I just want you here."
His face tightened.
Then he caught her waist and kissed her back.
His hand released her wrist before his body pressed her against the wall. Roxie pulled him closer by his shirt, careful of his ribs only after she felt him tense.
The kiss stayed rough.
Their teeth struck once, and Zac’s injured lip opened enough for Roxie to taste blood.
Neither stopped.
Zac placed one hand beside her head instead of touching her wrists again. His other hand closed around her waist and pulled her against him.
Roxie kissed him harder.
She needed his mouth on hers. She needed proof that he still wanted her after the lies, the girls, and everything they had said.
Zac moved his hand beneath the bottom of her shirt.
Roxie shivered when his palm touched her skin.
He pulled her away from the wall and moved them toward the couch. Roxie nearly tripped over one of his shirts, but Zac held her upright and kept kissing her.
When they reached the couch, Zac lowered her onto it and followed while keeping most of his weight away from his ribs. His mouth moved from hers to her neck as his hand slid higher beneath her shirt.
Roxie gripped his shoulders.
His fingers reached the edge of her bra.
"Wait," she said breathlessly.
Zac stopped.
His hand stayed still against her side for a moment before he removed it and sat back.
Roxie fixed her shirt and pushed herself upright.
Zac stood and moved several steps away from the couch. His breathing remained hard, and frustration tightened his face, but he kept his hands away from her.
"I changed my mind," Roxie said.
"Fine," Zac answered sharply.
Roxie watched him wipe blood from his lip. "You’re pissed."
"I stopped."
"Then why are you acting like that?"
Zac turned toward her, keeping his voice low even though every word came out tight. "Because we’re doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"You do this every time. We fight, then you kiss me so we don’t have to finish it."
"I wanted to kiss you."
"Then you stop, and we’re right back where we started."
Roxie stood. "So now I have to talk because I won’t sleep with you?"
"That isn’t what I said."
"It sounded like it."
"I’m pissed because you threw shit at me, shoved me in the ribs, accused me of cheating, then kissed me like none of it happened."
"You kissed me back."
"Yeah, because I’m an idiot." Zac’s voice cracked slightly.
Roxie folded her arms over her stomach. "You’re pissed because I stopped."
"I’m pissed because you keep doing this."
"I changed my mind."
"Fine." Zac’s voice rose. "If you don’t want sex, then talk to me."
Roxie’s shoulders pulled back. "You hear yourself?"
"Yes."
"Talk or sleep with you?"
"That’s not what I said."
"That’s what it sounds like."
Zac dragged both hands through his hair and immediately winced when the movement pulled at his ribs.
"I stopped when you asked," he said, his voice climbing again. "I’m asking you to quit using kissing to shut me up."
"Maybe I wanted to know you still wanted me," Roxie said, her voice weakening near the end.
Zac stared at her.
Roxie looked away before he could see how much the admission hurt.
"I followed you here."
"After I threatened to break up."
"Because that’s what you always do."
Roxie looked at him again. "What?"
"You tell me to leave, or you say we’re done, then you wait for me to chase you."
"You could’ve stayed at Dylan’s."
"You wanted me to follow you."
"So?"
"So stop acting like it means nothing," Zac said, his voice cracking with frustration.
Roxie stepped away from the couch. "Go back to the girls, then."
Zac laughed once and immediately pressed a hand to his ribs. "At least they weren’t accusing me of cheating while I could barely stand."
Roxie grabbed his jacket from the arm of the couch and threw it toward the door.
"Then go," she said, raising her voice even as the final word shook.
The jacket struck the floor.
Zac stared at it.
"Go let them take care of you."
"They were being nice."
"Great. Go marry one."
"Jesus, Roxie."
"You liked them touching you."
"I didn’t care."
"You cared when I grabbed her."
"Because you scared the shit out of her."
"She shouldn’t have touched you."
"I told you she was checking my hand."
"I don’t care."
"I know." Zac’s voice dropped. "That’s the problem."
Roxie pointed toward the door. "Get out."
Her voice cracked again.
Zac bent and picked up his jacket.
His duffel remained open near the coffee table. Clothes and papers still covered the floor.
He hesitated.
"What?" Roxie asked.
"Nothing."
"What, Dylan won’t take you back now?"
Zac looked at her. "I can stay wherever I want."
The lie came too quickly.
Roxie’s mouth tightened. "Then go."
Her voice came out quieter this time.
Zac crouched and began shoving clothes into the duffel. He folded nothing. Shirts, jeans, and toiletries went inside in whatever order his hands found them.
Roxie watched from beside the couch.
He looked like he had done this before.
He packed quickly, took only what mattered, and prepared to leave before anyone could stop him.
"You always leave," she said, barely loud enough for him to hear.
Zac stopped with one hand inside the bag.
Then he continued packing.
"Because staying with you turns into this," he said, his voice cracking slightly while he kept his eyes on the bag.
The words struck deeper than Roxie expected.
She folded her arms tighter and stared toward the window.
Zac gathered the Tennessee papers from the floor. Several had slid beneath the couch, but he looked exhausted and shoved the ones he could see into the folder.
He zipped the duffel, pulled the strap over his shoulder, and picked up his backpack.
His phone was already in his hand.
Roxie heard the ride app open.
Neither of them spoke while he waited near the door.
His jacket hung from one hand. Blood had dried again near his lip, and fresh redness spread across the side of his face where she had slapped him.
Roxie wanted to tell him to stay.
She wanted to grab the bag again and force him to look at her.
A car horn sounded outside several minutes later. Zac opened the door, and cold air entered the bungalow.
He looked back at Roxie.
She stood beside the couch with her arms wrapped around herself, still angry enough to let him go. He had lied, hidden at Dylan’s house, and trusted everyone except her.
Then she saw the duffel hanging from his shoulder.
This was no longer another threat during a fight. He was actually leaving.
"Zac."
His name barely left her mouth.
He waited.
Roxie wanted to ask him to stay. The words pressed against her throat, but she remembered him saying that staying with her always turned into this.
What if she begged and he still walked out?
Her mouth closed.
Something changed in Zac’s face before he stepped outside.
The door shut quietly.
Roxie stared at it.
For several seconds, anger kept her still. He had chosen to leave after she spent the whole day searching for him. He had walked away while she still had questions he refused to answer.
A car door closed outside.
Her anger broke.
Roxie rushed toward the door and grabbed the handle, but the engine had already started. She opened it as the car pulled away from the curb.
"Zac!"
The car continued down the road.
Roxie stood on the porch until its taillights disappeared.
She had told him to get out.
She had pointed at the door and thrown his jacket toward it.
Why had she expected him to understand that she wanted him to stay?
Roxie stepped back inside and shut the door.
The bungalow had gone quiet.
The melting ice pack sat on the table. Papers covered the floor, and a small smear of blood marked the wall beside the door.
She stared at the blood.
Her palm began to sting again.
Zac had arrived with a swollen face and bruised ribs. She had brought him home because she was worried about him.
Then she opened his bag.
She heard that Dylan and Mason knew.
She accused him of cheating, threw his things, shoved his injured ribs, and slapped the damaged side of his face.
Zac had pinned her against the wall and kept holding her after she asked him to release her.
Then she kissed him.
Roxie pressed both hands against her face.
How had a question about his family turned into that?
She remembered Zac folding around his ribs after she shoved him. She had seen the pain on his face and nearly apologized.
Then he moved toward the door, and keeping him inside became more important than what she had done to him.
The realization made her feel sick.
Her legs weakened, and she sat among the papers scattered across the floor.
Fresh red marks circled both wrists, crossing the fading bruise on the left one. Roxie touched them before looking at the hand she had used to slap him.
He had hurt her.
She had hurt him too.
Neither truth erased the other.
Roxie reached beneath the couch and found a Tennessee page partly hidden under the edge.
Her name appeared in Zac’s handwriting. Every part of the plan included her.
Roxie lowered the page across her knees.
Zac had planned a future with her while hiding the worst night of his life from her.
She had wanted him to trust her.
Instead, she had given him another reason to leave.
Roxie stared at the closed door, wishing she had said the only thing that mattered while he was still there.
Stay.