Locked and Loaded (Bullet, #6) (13 page)

That made him as despicable as Jen had said.  So, instead of arguing, he ground his teeth and looked at the table.  Jesus fuck.  She was right.  She couldn’t believe him, shouldn’t trust him—should run very far away.  Before he could say anything, Jen said, “I can’t keep doing this, Zane.  It’s a sick cycle.  Just...this time we went through half the circle faster than usual.  We don’t usually get here for a while.  But I know now—I can’t do it anymore.  I have Zoe to think of now.  My life isn’t just me.  I have a daughter to care for.

“Besides that, Zane, it just freaking wrecks me.  It kills me.  I don’t think you have any idea of how it tears me apart inside to have you do this to me.  It’s like—you might as well just take a knife to me.  I think I’d heal faster that way.  You just don’t get it.”

Oh, he did.  She had no fucking idea.

––––––––

Z
ANE DIDN’T HAVE a clue how much he had wrecked her—not just tonight but always.  That first time had been bad, but damn it.  Jennifer was so stupid, she just kept going back for more—like she enjoyed it or something.  Dumb, dumb, dumb.

And here she was, entertaining him again.  Actually considering giving him another chance, giving him the opportunity to crush her again.  Why did she do that?

It came down to the fact that she loved him.  And part of her really did want for him to be a real dad to Zoe.

So she was actually, once more, listening to the bullshit Zane was spewing about getting better, about not cheating on her, about walking the straight and narrow.  She had heard this spiel dozens of times before, and she was an idiot to even consider it.

“Wait a second, Zane,” she said, interrupting his
Please, babe
speech.  “How do I know this time will be any different?  What will you do different this time?”

He had a shell-shocked look on his face, almost like he couldn’t understand her because she was speaking a foreign language.  He let out a long, slow breath of air and rubbed his index and middle fingers across his brows.  He was clenching his jaw, and Jennifer could see his cheek muscles tense and relax, tense and relax in response.  Then he shrugged and blinked.

When he looked back up at her, he said, “Maybe we could move in together.”

“What?  Are you kidding?  How the hell would that help?”  Zoe paused from eating and looked at Jennifer.  She rarely heard her mom raise her voice.  Jennifer took a deep breath and smiled at her child, adjusting and toning down her voice before speaking again.  “Zane, how do you think that would help anything?”

“I wouldn’t be able to—”

“Don’t you think it would make me capable of committing murder if I found you screwing some other woman in
my
bed?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“No.  That’s a bad idea.  We are
not
moving in together.  That’s insane.”

“It’s not in—”

“You gotta come up with something better than that.”

“Would you
stop
interrupting me, for Christ’s sake?”

“I’m not—oh.  I guess I am.  Sorry.”  She’d been getting far too emotional—
again
—something that was easy to do when Zane was around.  So she shut up, but then he didn’t say anything.  In fact, the two of them were quiet for a long time, just listening to Zoe play with her food and babble.  Jennifer finally said, “Look, Zane.  The old stuff you did never worked.  Whatever your plan was for staying faithful never ever worked for you, and I’m getting too old to keep playing this game.”

“It’s not a game.”

“It feels like it.  And so...you gotta
change
it.  Because I already know how it’ll end—at least if we keep playing the same old way we always have.”

“I can get better.”

“Zane, do you even
hear
yourself?  I think you believe it—but your history says otherwise.  You have never
ever
been able to stay faithful to me...and I can’t do it anymore.  One time and we’re done.  Forever.  For good.  And I don’t think you realize how serious I am.”

He was quiet again, staring into his coffee cup before he looked up at her.  “I think—I think maybe I need some help.”

“Help?”

“Yeah.  I, uh...I was just in rehab again a while back and, uh...they go hand in hand.”

“What?”

“Getting high and fucking around.”

“Do you think that excuses your behavior?”

“Oh, hell, no, babe.  I just know that if I pop a pill or have a drink...a girl is sure to follow.”  He swallowed.  “Sometimes, it’s the other way around, but usually that’s how it goes.”

“So stay quit, Zane.  Is it so hard?”

He kept his voice quiet, but his words seemed so loud.  “Yeah, actually, it
is
.  I can’t stay quit, Jen.”

“Then you have to stay away from me.”

He blinked again, his face to the table, and she could swear she saw a bead of moisture drop from his eye.  She couldn’t prove it and she wasn’t going to ask, but she thought maybe she was seeing a crack in his façade.  Maybe something she’d said sparked something inside him.  “I don’t want to, Jen.  You’re like the one ray of sunshine in my life—like the tiny pinprick of light at the end of the tunnel.”  His voice was quiet and cracked when he said, “You’re what I live for.”

“What?  That’s bullshit, Zane.”

“No...it’s not.  You really don’t know.”

He swallowed and kept his eyes to the table, like he was truly repentant and ashamed.  She’d never seen him act this way before...and so she almost wanted to believe him.  “I’m sorry, Zane, but I can’t allow you to continue hurting me just because I’m the
light
at the end of your dark tunnel.  I can’t.”

Zane brought his hand to his brows again, pressing his index finger to one and his thumb to the other, and Jen didn’t know if it was calming for him or if he was trying to hide his eyes from her.  His quiet voice croaked.  “I think I need help.”

“That’s what you said—but then you said you don’t stay quit.  Why is that?”

He ran his entire hand down his face before looking at her.  “Because I don’t want to talk to them.  I leave before we’re done.  They want to talk about my childhood and other shit—and I don’t feel like it.  I can’t handle it.  It makes me feel worse.”

“But maybe you’d feel better if you stuck it out.”

“You saying you want me to try rehab again?”

“Zane, I don’t know what you need.  I only know that you are a broken record.  You keep repeating your mistakes over and over again...and I’m just helping you do it.  I can’t help you anymore.  I
won’t
help you anymore.  It’s not just me I’m living for nowadays, Zane.  I have to think of my daughter too.”

He blinked and, in that moment, seemed more sincere than she’d ever seen him.  “One more chance, Jen.  That’s all I ask.”

And she didn’t know if it was stupidity or compassion...but she agreed to give him one more time.

* * *

W
hat the hell had he just agreed to?  The victim mentality he wanted to give into kept telling him Jen had extorted him—forced him into getting some kind of help in exchange for seeing her.  He knew it wasn’t true, though.  Deep down, he knew he needed help.  The kind of compulsions he gave into on a continual basis were neither healthy nor beneficial.  He really needed help and he’d merely been avoiding it all these years.  The biggest proof?  He was still feeling a residual high and he’d indulged in foreign pussy less than twelve hours earlier.  Like a typical addict, he’d pretended that
just one
drink or
just one
hit or
just one
dalliance here and there didn’t count.  Deep down, though, in the murky abyss where he hated himself, he knew the truth.

So, much as he wanted to whine and complain, he instead decided to fucking man up and just do it.  His prize for completing the task?  Jennifer Manders.  He was going to have to get used to her being a mom, though.  That was weird.  Not bad...just strange and unexpected.  He didn’t know why he was so shocked, though.  She’d made the decision to move on with her life.

Without him.

That was why it had hurt so badly, though.  He didn’t think he’d ever be able to move on without hurt.  It would have been like cutting off an arm.

As he drove home that night, he started thinking of the least painful way to do it.  Maybe Jenna, Ethan’s significant other, would be willing to take him on as a patient.  If nothing else, she already knew him and so she wouldn’t judge him...right?

He was going to sleep on it...and, for the first time in a long time, he was going to do it completely and utterly sober.

––––––––

T
HE NEXT MORNING, Zane was gritting his teeth, standing in his kitchen and trying to decide if he wanted to make coffee or go out for it.  The clock on the wall said ten-thirty, so he chose not to wait and picked up his phone, dialing his good friend’s number.

When Ethan picked up, Zane said, “Hey, Ethan.  Can I come over and talk with you and Jenna?”

“About what, man?  Everything okay?”

He remembered the annoying therapist in his last rehab stint, the one that made Zane decide that just getting off all the shit, even if just for a few weeks, was good enough.  In spite of the woman’s irritating qualities, one thing she’d said that made sense—whether he liked it or not—was about honesty.  Lying and not talking about things or, as she called it,
hiding in the weeds
only harmed him.  It made it harder for him to get what he needed out of life.

So...full-blown honesty it was, even if it hurt.  “No.  That’s why I wanted to come talk with you guys.”  He forced a smile, even though Ethan wouldn’t see it, probably wouldn’t even hear it in his voice.  “I’ll bring coffee.”

“You comin’ now?”

“Yeah.  If that’s all right.”

“Yep.  Come on over.”

Ethan didn’t live that far away from Zane, but driving half an hour with teeth clenched while white-knuckling the steering wheel made it seem like eons.  Stopping for coffee and breaking up the ride didn’t help much either.  It just made it seem longer.  And he’d made up his mind, so he wanted to get started already.

Unlike the rest of his band buddies, Ethan lived in a gated community, and Zane had to pass inspection to get in.  He was on the list, of course, but he had to stop just the same.  Ethan had explained it to Zane when he first did it.  For some reason—probably because of his notorious history—Ethan managed to attract a lot of strange people, stalker types, and the guy wanted to keep his family safe.  If it had been him on his own, he said he wouldn’t have cared, but with a girlfriend and children, it was a necessity.  He insisted it was worth every penny.

So after miles and traffic and coffee and the gate, by the time Zane got to their front door, he was a nervous wreck.

Yeah...he knew it wasn’t just the time it took to get there making him a bundle of nerves.  He was also already experiencing the early stages of withdrawal.  It was partly stupid, trying to be coherent and talk about his problems calmly and rationally without the aid of chemical support, but it would also underscore how badly he really needed it if he’d pounded some pills before coming over.

But, of all people, Ethan and Jenna would understand.

It didn’t matter.  If Zane had caved—especially this early on, when the symptoms of detox were mildly irritating as opposed to how bad they would get (and this he knew from past experience)—it would have been like he didn’t care about Jennifer.  He needed to prove to himself that he could do it.

After their cursory greetings, Ethan slapped Zane on the back and closed the front door behind him.  Zane was holding a drink carrier with three big paper cups of coffee, and the scent was teasing his nostrils.  For the first time in ages, Zane wanted a cigarette to go with.

God...this was gonna be bad.

“You look like hell, man.  What’s goin’ on?”

“I need to talk to you and Jenna.”

Zane could see the worried look in his friend’s pale green eyes.  “Yeah, sure.  She’s in the dining room with Scarlet.”

They walked in the large room anchored by a long shiny mahogany table.  The long royal purple drapes were pulled to the side, letting sunlight stream in through the large, long windows.  The coolness inside the room belied how warm it was growing outside, but Zane preferred drinking coffee when he was cool.  He remembered how his dad had always talked about how coffee cooled him off on a hot day.

Why the fuck did thoughts of his dad pop into his head now?  Now?  When he desperately needed something positive to hold onto, memories of his father were the last thing he needed.  Jenna had been on the floor with the baby.  Well...Scarlet wasn’t much of a baby anymore.  She was upright and walking on her own.  When exactly had that happened?  Had that much time passed?

Jesus fuck.  Yeah...Zane really needed to dry out.  He couldn’t keep track of shit anymore.  Time seemed meaningless, especially when he could only remember events when juxtaposed with album releases and tours.  He set the tray of coffee on the table and tried to have a positive—or at least neutral—expression on his face before Jenna looked at him.

“Zane,” Jenna said, walking over to him and pulling him into a warm embrace.  “How are you doing?”

“Not good.”  And it didn’t help that little Scarlet was acting scared of him, hiding behind Ethan’s leg, holding onto it like a tree trunk that was going to save her from the big bad wolf.

“Thanks for the coffee.  Do you need any cream or sugar?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Jenna looked at Ethan.  He picked up their child and kissed her on the cheek.  “Want me to go get it?”

She smiled.  “Yeah, if you don’t mind.”

“Nope.”  He handed Scarlet to her mom (damn, there was no mistaking that they were mother and daughter) and started walking through the other doorway.  “Be right back.”  Zane felt a rush of gratitude.  Their acceptance and love were strong and palpable, exactly what he needed right now.

“Go ahead and sit down, Zane.”  Jenna pulled out a chair for herself and sat, holding Scarlet on her lap, but the child would have none of it.  She turned and wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck.  “Honey, this is daddy’s friend Zane.  You remember him, don’t you?”  Zane couldn’t see the expression on the child’s face as her head was turned away from him.  He knew he had to look like shit warmed over, and that would likely scare the hardiest of children.  “He’s in daddy’s band.”  Jenna smiled, looking at Zane.  “Er,
bands
.”