Chapter 257 - Things
By the time practice ended, Roxie was pissed all over again.
She shoved her water bottle into her cheer bag and followed Karen and Angela out of the gym while the rest of the team scattered toward the parking lot. Karen was still complaining about Kendall, Angela was answering her, and Roxie barely heard either of them because all she could think about was going home and seeing Zac’s shit everywhere.
She pulled out her phone before she could think about it any longer.
Come get your shit or I burn all of it.
She hit send.
Karen looked over. "What did you just do?"
"Nothing."
"That was definitely something."
Roxie shoved the phone into her bag. "I told Zac to get his stuff."
Angela frowned. "Today?"
"If he wants it."
Her phone vibrated before they reached the parking lot. Roxie stopped and pulled it back out, already expecting an argument. Zac would tell her to calm the fuck down, ask why she was threatening his clothes, maybe tell her she better not touch anything. She almost wanted him to piss her off. At least then there would be something between them besides him reading her messages and acting like she did not exist.
His reply had one word.
Okay.
Roxie stared at it long enough for Angela to lean closer.
"What did he say?"
"Nothing."
Karen looked over her shoulder. "That says okay."
"I can fucking read."
Roxie locked the phone and shoved it into her bag before either of them could say anything else.
She fucking hated okay.
By the time she reached the bungalow, it was a little after five. She dropped her cheer bag beside the couch, walked into the bedroom and immediately regretted sending the message.
Zac’s things were still everywhere once she actually looked for them. Shirts mixed with hers in the closet. His charger beside the bed. An extra pair of shoes near the dresser. His toiletries in the bathroom. All the little things he had gradually started leaving because at some point carrying everything back and forth had stopped making sense.
Roxie stood in the bedroom doorway and stared at it all.
She could make this easy. Gather everything, throw it into a garbage bag and leave it beside the front door so Zac had no reason to come farther inside.
Her hand even went toward one of his shirts.
Then she pulled it back.
Fuck that.
He wanted to leave her. He could pack his own shit.
Roxie changed out of her practice clothes, washed her face and tied her hair back before going into the living room. She turned on the television and sat on the couch, but she barely registered what was playing. Every few minutes she caught herself checking the clock, then got pissed at herself for caring whether he came at five thirty or six or never.
When someone finally knocked, her stomach tightened anyway.
Roxie stayed on the couch for a few seconds.
Another knock came.
That somehow hurt.
Three days ago Zac would have opened the door himself. He would have walked in, thrown whatever he was carrying somewhere and probably asked what they were eating before Roxie even had the chance to say hello.
Now he was waiting outside for permission.
Roxie got up and opened the door.
Zac stood there with the same duffel he had taken when he left hanging from one shoulder. The scratches along his forearm were still visible, and there was a faint mark left on his cheek from where she had slapped him. He looked tired, though slightly better than he had at school.
His eyes met hers for a second before moving away.
Roxie stepped aside.
Zac walked in and closed the door behind him. He automatically bent to take off his shoes, then stopped halfway through the movement.
Roxie noticed.
He looked down at them, hesitated, then straightened and kept them on.
Three days ago she would have yelled at him for walking through the bungalow in his shoes. Now apparently neither of them knew what he was allowed to do here anymore.
"Your stuff is where you left it."
Zac nodded and started toward the bedroom.
Roxie followed him.
She told herself she only wanted to make sure he took everything. It had nothing to do with how unbearable the idea of Zac being alone in her bedroom suddenly felt.
He set the duffel on the bed and opened the closet. Roxie leaned against the doorway with her arms crossed while he started pulling his shirts from between hers, folding each one before placing it into the bag.
It was ridiculous how much that bothered her.
They were clothes.
Still, she remembered throwing some of them into the washing machine with hers because separating their laundry had stopped making sense. She remembered stealing his shirts after showers and Zac complaining that staying at her bungalow somehow meant losing ownership of half his wardrobe.
Now every shirt he removed left another empty space between her clothes.
Roxie looked toward the gray hoodie hanging behind one of her jackets. "You forgot that."
Zac glanced toward it. "I know."
"Then why are you leaving it?"
He kept folding another shirt. "You wear it more than me."
Her jaw tightened. "Keep it."
She pushed herself away from the doorway, yanked the hoodie from the hanger and threw it toward him.
"I don’t want it."
Zac caught it against his chest.
Roxie waited for him to throw it back or tell her to stop acting like a fucking child.
Instead, he folded it and put it into the duffel.
That hurt more than if he had argued.
Roxie looked away while Zac continued moving through the room. He unplugged his charger beside the bed, collected the shoes near the dresser, then disappeared into the bathroom and came back with his toothbrush, deodorant and shampoo.
The bedroom slowly started looking like it had before he began staying there.
Roxie hated seeing it happen.
"You have socks under the bed," she said after the silence became too uncomfortable.
"I know."
"There’s a shirt in the laundry."
"I’ll get it."
"Your other charger is behind the couch."
"I know."
Roxie’s irritation finally snapped. "Can you say something else?"
Zac stopped beside the dresser and looked at her. "Like what?"
Roxie opened her mouth.
Nothing came.
She wanted him to argue. She wanted him irritated. She wanted him to ask why she cared so much when she was the one who told him to come get everything. She wanted anything that felt like him instead of this quiet version of Zac politely removing himself from her house.
"Nothing," she muttered.
Zac looked at her for another second before picking up the duffel and walking back into the living room.
Roxie followed and sat on the couch while he crouched beside it to reach for his other charger. He rolled the cord around his hand, put it into the bag and looked around the room as if mentally checking where else he might have left something.
Then his eyes moved toward the drawer beneath the television.
Roxie’s stomach tightened.
Zac opened it.
The Tennessee folder sat inside.
Neither of them said anything.
He pulled it out and looked down at it for a few seconds. Zac closed his hand around the folder and slid it into the duffel with his clothes.
That was what finally broke her.
It was not even about Tennessee anymore.
It was seeing him put something they had spent so much time talking about into a bag beside his toothbrush and shirts, like all of it could be packed away at once.
Roxie turned her face toward the television before the tears could fall.
They fell anyway.
"Fuck."
She wiped them quickly.
Zac zipped one side of the duffel before looking toward her.
"Just pack your shit."
"Roxie."
"I said pack." She wiped her cheeks harder. "Please."
The last word cracked, and Roxie hated herself for it.
Zac stayed where he was for a moment before lowering the duffel onto the floor and sitting beside her on the couch.
Roxie looked away immediately.
"Don’t."
"I’m just sitting."
"I know."
She hated that he was close enough for her to feel the couch shift beneath his weight. She hated that his shoulder was right there. She hated that some part of her wanted to lean into him automatically because that was what she had done every other time she cried beside him.
"You were good to me," Zac said.
Roxie turned toward him. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"I mean it."
"What, are you giving me a fucking breakup review?"
His mouth moved slightly, almost a smile, but it disappeared before it really formed. "I’m trying to tell you I don’t think everything between us was bad."
"Great."
"Roxie."
"No, seriously. Thank you. I’m glad I got a passing grade."
"That isn’t what I meant."
"Then stop talking about me like I’m somebody you used to know."
Zac looked down at his hands.
That only made the tears come harder.
"You were there for me," he said. "Games. State. Everything with my family. When I got kicked out, you gave me somewhere to stay. When everything else was falling apart, you were there."
"Stop."
Zac looked at her.
"Everything is fucking past tense." Roxie wiped beneath her eyes, but more tears replaced the ones she removed. "You were good to me. You were there. Like I fucking died."
"I know you’re sitting right here."
"Then why are you talking like this?"
His jaw tightened.
Roxie watched him struggle with whatever he wanted to say, and the silence made panic crawl through her again.
"We can work this out."
Zac closed his eyes.
"Don’t."
His eyes opened. "Roxie."
"I mean it." She turned toward him completely. "We know what we keep doing wrong. I stop hitting you. You stop grabbing me. I stop using Ethan whenever I want to hurt you. You stop hiding shit because you think you know how I’m going to react. We actually deal with the fight instead of fucking each other and pretending everything is fine afterward."
Zac looked at her for a long moment.
Roxie could see how tired he was, but she could also see that he was listening.
That gave her enough hope to keep going.
"We know now. That has to fucking count for something."
"It does."
"Then why are you still doing this?"
"Because knowing after we hurt each other doesn’t make what happened disappear."
Roxie’s throat tightened.
"We can stop."
"We’ve said that before."
"This time we know how bad it can get."
Zac rubbed both hands over his face. "That’s exactly what scares me."
Roxie stared at him.
His voice stayed quiet when he continued. "It keeps getting worse, Roxie. Every time we think that was the worst fight, then we find another one."
"So you’re just giving up?"
His face tightened. "You know that isn’t what this is."
"It feels like it."
"I know."
Roxie hated that answer.
She hated how easily he could acknowledge that she was hurting and still sit there refusing to change his mind.
Her face crumpled before she could stop it.
"How the fuck am I supposed to do this?"
Zac looked toward her. "Do what?"
"Any of it."
Roxie wiped her face with both hands before dropping them into her lap. She was tired of pretending the question was smaller than it was.
"How am I supposed to go to school and sit in chemistry while you’re in the back acting like I’m some girl you used to know? How am I supposed to come home and all your shit is gone? How am I supposed to sleep in that bed when you were in it almost every fucking night?"
Zac looked away.
Roxie kept talking because if she stopped she knew she would start sobbing again.
"You’re in everything. School, this house, my routine. I wake up and look for you before I remember. I still hear a car outside and think it might be you. Something happens and I pick up my phone because you’re the first fucking person I want to tell."
Her voice cracked again.
She pressed her lips together, but it did nothing.
"How am I supposed to live without you?"
Zac looked down for a long time.
When he finally spoke, his voice was rough.
"The same way you did before we were together."
Roxie stared at him. "That life fucking sucked."
"I know."
"So that’s great advice."
"That isn’t what I mean." Zac turned toward her. "You had a whole life before me. You worked. You had cheer. Karen and Angela. You took care of yourself when nobody else was doing it for you. You were already strong before I showed up."
Roxie’s face tightened.
"Shut up."
"I’m serious."
"I said shut up."
She wiped her cheeks roughly and stood.
She hated this.
She hated him sitting beside her telling her how strong she was like he was trying to make sure she could survive him. She hated crying while he calmly explained why she would eventually be okay without him.
Most of all, she hated how weak she felt every time she begged someone who had already made his choice.
Enough.
Roxie took a shaky breath and wiped her face one last time.
"Pack the rest."
Zac looked up at her. "Roxie."
"No." She shook her head. "Take your charger. Take the shirts. Take everything."
His expression tightened.
Roxie crossed her arms because her hands were shaking and she refused to let him see it.
"I’m done crying in front of you."
"That isn’t because I don’t want you."
Roxie laughed bitterly. "Doesn’t really fucking matter anymore, does it?"
Zac stayed quiet.
That silence hurt, but this time Roxie refused to fill it for him.
She lifted her chin toward the duffel.
"Get your shit."
For several seconds Zac remained on the couch.
Then he stood, picked up the bag and looked around the living room one last time.
Roxie watched him.
She wanted to ask if he had everything.
She wanted to find some stupid forgotten object that would give him another reason to come back.
She kept her mouth shut.
If he wanted to remove himself from her house, she was going to let him finish.
Even if every piece he took felt like something being pulled out of her too.