Chapter 227 - Get Your Hands Off Her
ZAC’S POV
"Get your hands off her."
Ethan removed his arm from Roxie’s shoulders, but instead of backing away, he stood in front of her.
Zac stepped farther inside. His fist tightened when Ethan stayed between them like Roxie needed protection from him.
"I said get away from her."
Ethan looked over Zac’s face. His eyes moved across the swelling around Zac’s left eye, the cut beside his mouth, and the bruises covering his jaw. Then he looked back at Roxie.
She wore one of Zac’s long sleeved shirts with shorts underneath. A blanket covered most of her legs, and her sleeves had ridden up enough to expose the marks around her wrists. Her eyes were swollen, and her cheek was still wet from where it had rested against Ethan’s shoulder.
"You need to leave," Ethan said.
Zac pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek. Heat climbed from beneath his shirt and spread across the back of his neck. Roxie knew exactly how he felt about Ethan, yet the guy was inside her bungalow, sitting with his arm around her while Zac was gone.
Zac looked past him.
A bowl of soup sat on the coffee table. The broken glass from last night was gone, and his Tennessee papers had been placed into a neat stack. Claire’s ashes were back on the shelf beside the blue mug.
Ethan had cleaned their mess.
He had cooked for Roxie.
He had sat with her while she cried.
Zac had spent the drive trying to figure out how to explain what happened at home. He repeated the truth at every stoplight until he thought he could finally say it without choking on his anger and humiliation.
All of it disappeared when he saw Ethan sitting in his place.
He looked at Roxie. "Really?"
Her face went paler.
Zac knew she had not cheated on him. He knew that. Roxie was obsessed with him, and he was just as bad with her.
That almost made it worse.
She knew letting Ethan come here would hurt him, but she had called him anyway.
Ethan moved into Zac’s path when he tried walking toward the couch.
"Move."
"She doesn’t want you here."
Roxie pushed the blanket away from her knees. "I didn’t say that."
Ethan glanced back at her.
He checked Roxie before turning toward Zac again.
Zac’s jaw tightened.
"Move."
"Make me."
Zac shoved him.
Ethan stumbled against the coffee table, caught himself, and swung before Zac could take another step. His fist struck the damaged side of Zac’s face.
Pain burst through Zac’s cheek and behind his swollen eye. His head snapped sideways, and the room blurred.
Zac slowly turned back toward him.
Then he punched Ethan in the mouth.
"Stop circling around her like a fucking vulture every time we have some minor fight."
Ethan staggered into the wall. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at the blood across his skin before coming forward again.
"Stop!" Roxie shouted.
Ethan punched Zac beneath the ribs, directly over the bruise Nathan had left. The air rushed from Zac’s lungs, and he folded slightly around the pain.
"Minor fight?" Ethan said. "Let’s see how minor a broken nose feels."
Zac grabbed the front of Ethan’s shirt and shoved him toward the kitchen. Ethan caught him across the jaw again, making his teeth cut into the inside of his cheek.
The bowl of soup remained behind Ethan.
He had cooked for Roxie.
Zac had left her inside the bungalow with broken glass across the floor. Ethan had shown up, cleaned everything, and fed her while Zac stayed at Dylan’s house feeling sorry for himself.
The thought made him swing harder.
Ethan ducked.
Zac’s fist struck the wall, and pain tore across his knuckles.
"Stop!" Roxie shouted again.
Ethan drove both hands against Zac’s chest. Zac stumbled backward until his shoulder hit the wall beside the kitchen.
The floor was clean beneath his shoes.
Every piece of glass was gone.
Ethan had picked up what Zac left near Roxie.
Ethan glanced toward the couch.
Zac saw it and pushed himself away from the wall.
"I dare you to look at her again."
Ethan wiped more blood from his mouth. "What? You wanna try that domestic shit on me too?"
Zac grabbed him around the middle and drove him backward.
Ethan’s hip struck the dining table. Its legs scraped over the floor, and he reached for the coffee table to stop himself from falling.
The bowl tipped.
Soup spread across the table, poured over the edge, and splashed onto the clean floor.
Ethan punched Zac near the ear. Zac’s vision flashed white, but he held on and shoved Ethan against the wall.
Ethan tried driving his knee upward. Zac turned before it landed properly and punched him in the stomach.
Ethan folded around the blow.
Zac grabbed his shirt and forced him upright against the wall. His fist rose again.
A hand closed around his forearm.
"Stop!"
Roxie pulled at him.
Zac tore his arm free without looking.
Her fingers slipped.
Roxie lost her balance and fell sideways. Her hip struck the wooden edge of the couch before she dropped onto the cushion with a cry.
Zac froze.
His fist stayed raised until he turned and saw her gripping the couch. Her face had gone pale, and the blanket was twisted around one ankle.
Ethan straightened against the wall with one arm pressed over his stomach.
Roxie tried standing.
Her legs shook immediately. She caught the couch before she fell again, and the blanket slipped to the floor.
Zac lowered his fist.
Dark marks covered both of her thighs beneath the hem of her shorts. Some were round and deep red. Others had started turning purple beneath her skin.
"What happened?"
Ethan wiped blood from his mouth. "Don’t act innocent, fucker."
Zac barely heard him.
Those marks were fresh.
They had not been there when he left.
"I fell," Roxie said.
She looked toward the kitchen instead of at him.
Zac had watched her walk during their fight. She had followed him to the door, kicked his duffel, and stood beside the couch while he gathered his clothes.
Her legs had been fine.
Ethan pointed toward her wrists. "Did you fall on those too?"
Roxie pulled her sleeves down.
"Those were from our fight."
"He grabbed you."
"I was hitting him."
Relief came before Zac could stop it. Roxie was telling Ethan the truth. She was admitting she hit him instead of letting Ethan stand there and make Zac look like he attacked her for no reason.
Then Zac looked at her covered wrists.
Arthur always had a reason too.
Zac argued.
Zac disobeyed.
Zac made him angry.
Miranda repeated those things until Zac almost believed whatever Arthur did afterward was his fault.
Now Roxie was doing the same thing for him.
The relief turned sour inside him.
Ethan looked at her. "That doesn’t make it okay."
"I didn’t say it was."
"You called me here looking like this."
"I called because I needed someone."
"And I came."
"I know." Roxie swallowed. "Thank you."
Ethan’s expression changed.
Roxie gripped the back of the couch and forced herself to stand straighter.
"But you shouldn’t interfere in our relationship."
The bungalow went quiet except for the soup dripping onto the floor.
Ethan looked at her like he had misheard.
"You called me."
"I needed someone with me. I never asked you to hit Zac."
"I found you on the floor with bruises, broken glass, and legs you can barely stand on."
"I told you I fell."
Ethan looked at the marks on her thighs.
"Fine. Keep covering for him."
Roxie’s face hardened. "I’m not covering for anyone."
"Then tell me what happened."
Her mouth opened.
No answer came out.
She looked at Claire’s ashes and then lowered her eyes.
Ethan shook his head and crossed the room for his jacket.
"You need to get away from him."
"Leave," Zac said.
Ethan shoved one arm into his jacket and ignored him.
"I’m talking to her."
"You know nothing about us," Roxie said.
"I know you called me because you couldn’t be alone."
"I already thanked you."
"Now he’s here, so you’re lying."
"I’m not lying."
"Then what happened to your legs?"
Roxie looked away.
Ethan pulled on the rest of his jacket. He moved slower now, keeping one hand close to his stomach.
"Next time you call, decide if you actually want help."
He headed for the door.
Roxie moved back when he passed.
The movement was small, but Ethan noticed. His eyes went straight to Zac.
"If she calls me again looking like this, I’m coming for you."
Zac stepped toward him.
Ethan opened the door and walked onto the porch before Zac could reach him. He slammed it behind himself.
His boots crossed the porch. A few seconds later, his motorcycle started near the road.
Zac listened until the engine faded.
Ethan was gone.
Good.
The satisfaction lasted only until he turned around.
Roxie still stood beside the couch with one hand gripping the cushion. Her bare legs shook beneath her shorts, and her sleeves covered the marks around her wrists again.
Soup dripped from the table onto the floor Ethan had cleaned.
"You didn’t fall."
Roxie bent for the blanket. Pain crossed her face before her fingers reached it.
Zac moved toward her.
Her entire body tightened.
He stopped.
Roxie did not back away, but she straightened quickly and wrapped both arms around herself.
Zac remembered trapping her wrists inside his hands. He remembered holding her against the wall while she twisted and tried to pull free.
"What happened?"
"I told you. I fell."
"You were walking when I left."
Roxie stared toward the kitchen.
"Babe."
"Mr. Robinson came."
Zac’s anger shifted away from Ethan.
"Why?"
"Coach Miller called their house because I missed practice."
"Why would he come here?"
Roxie stared at the soup spreading across the floor.
"He’s my father."
Zac thought he heard her wrong.
"What?"
"Mr. Robinson is my biological father."
Zac looked toward Claire’s ashes.
Mr. Robinson.
Jason’s father.
He remembered seeing the Robinson family together at the restaurant and becoming jealous when Roxie laughed with him. The man looked nothing like her, but Roxie looked almost exactly like Claire. Maybe the curls and freckles came from him.
Roxie lowered herself onto the couch, gripping the cushion with both hands. Her thighs shook before she finally sat. She pulled the blanket over them again.
"He said Claire kept me from him. She threatened to disappear with me if he told me who he was."
"Cynthia knew?"
"No."
"Jason?"
"He doesn’t know either."
Roxie rubbed both hands across the blanket.
"I’ve been taking care of my brother, and neither of us knew. Mr. Robinson watched us together the whole time."
Zac looked around the bungalow.
The old couch. The crooked cabinet beside the sink. The faded curtains. The open box of crackers on the counter.
"He sent Claire money," Roxie said.
"How much?"
"Three thousand dollars every month since I was born."
Zac turned toward her.
"What?"
"We still had no food, but she always had money for drugs."
"Roxie."
He wanted to go to her, but her body had stiffened when he moved closer. He stayed where he was.
"She made me work," Roxie continued. "She watched me come home tired and complain about money while she already had it."
Her voice broke.
"She made me feel guilty for needing food."
Zac’s hands curled at his sides.
Roxie’s eyes filled again.
He wanted Mr. Robinson back inside the bungalow. He wanted the man standing close enough for Zac to hit him.
"What did he say?"
"He wanted to help now."
"Now?"
"I told him eighteen years was late. Then I threw him out."
Roxie looked toward Claire’s ashes.
"I tried throwing her away too."
Zac followed her eyes.
"I carried her outside and held her over the trash. I wanted her gone, but I couldn’t let go."
Her mouth trembled.
"I hate her. I hate what she did, but I still couldn’t throw her away."
Zac pulled the dining chair away from the table and sat several feet from her. Roxie’s shoulders lowered slightly when he stopped trying to get closer.
"What happened after that?"
"I came back inside."
"And your legs?"
"I panicked."
Zac waited.
Roxie rubbed one thumb against the other until the skin turned red.
"I couldn’t breathe. My hands went numb. I ended up on the floor."
"That didn’t make those bruises."
"I can walk."
"You can barely stand."
"Drop it."
Zac looked at the blanket covering her thighs. He remembered the redness around her knuckles when he entered.
He remembered doing something similar when he was younger.
Arthur had called him a disappointment after a middle school game. Zac went to his room and hit the side of his leg until the anger, his stomach, her arms, anything his hand can reach.
He had hidden the marks beneath his football uniform.
His heart started pounding harder.
"Did you do that to yourself?"
Roxie’s head snapped toward him.
"No. I fell."
Zac stared at her.
She had.
He wanted to cross the room, pull the blanket away, and see how badly she had hurt herself. He wanted to ask how many times she hit her legs and why she called Ethan instead of him.
The bruises beneath her sleeves stopped him.
He stayed in the chair.
"Okay."
Roxie watched him like she expected another question.
Zac lowered his eyes to his hands. His knuckles had split during the fight, and blood sat inside the cuts.
He came here to tell her everything.
His duffel remained at Dylan’s house with nearly all his clothes. He borrowed Dylan’s car because Arthur took the truck keys.
Roxie had learned her father watched her suffer while sending money from across town. She had tried throwing her mother’s ashes away and hurt herself after Zac left.
She called Ethan because Zac was gone.
Ethan came, listened, cleaned, and made her food.
Zac came back and started another fight.
"Why did you come back?" Roxie asked.
Zac raised his head.
"I heard you missed practice."
"From who?"
"Angela."
"You came to check on me?"
Roxie looked at the stack beside the spilled soup.
"Did you plan to tell me what happened at home?"
Zac saw Holly leaning toward him. Nathan’s fist. Arthur crossing the room. Miranda standing near the stairs while Zac carried his bag out.
"It was a fight."
Roxie stared at him. "That’s all?"
"That’s all I can talk about tonight."
"You’re still hiding something."
"I’m trying to keep tonight from getting worse."
"Everybody keeps deciding what I can handle."
Zac opened his mouth.
The truth reached the back of his throat.
Roxie shifted on the couch and winced. One hand moved beneath the blanket and pressed against her thigh before she quickly pulled it away.
If Zac told her, she would start worrying about him. She would ask where he planned to sleep, how he would get to school, and whether he had enough money.
Then he would have to tell her what Holly accused him of doing.
Roxie already had enough inside her head.
Zac stayed quiet.
Her jaw tightened.
He hated that she saw him choose silence again.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked.
Roxie looked at him with tired eyes.
"I just want to sleep with you."
Zac stood slowly and walked toward her.
Roxie watched him come closer but stayed where she was.
"Can I pick you up?"
She nodded.
Zac bent and placed one arm behind her back and the other beneath her knees. He lifted her carefully, keeping his hand away from the bruises on her thighs.
Roxie wrapped her arms around his neck.
He sat on the couch with her across his lap. She curled against his chest and tucked her face beneath his chin.
"Are you leaving again?" she asked.
"No."
Zac pulled the blanket across her legs.
"I’m sorry," he whispered.
Roxie made a quiet sound and gripped the front of his shirt.
Her breathing slowed while she curled tighter against him. Within minutes, exhaustion pulled her to sleep.
Zac remained awake with one arm around her.
His home was gone. His truck was gone, and almost everything he owned was inside a duffel at Dylan’s house.
Roxie slept believing he came back because he had chosen her.
He had.
He also had nowhere else to go.
And he still had not told her.