Page 18 of Captured Memories
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Zane paced around his apartment,his living room growing smaller with every pass he made across the weathered wooden floorboards. Being around Liv Morozov earlier had been a salve to his battered soul, but now at his house, alone, the itch returned with an increasing pulse he couldn’t ignore.
The low murmur of voices on his TV screen followed by the rat-a-tat-tat of space battles courtesy of Battlestar Galactica. The show normally commanded his full attention, but on nights like this, regular distractions weren’t up to snuff. His chip weighed down his pocket, the one thing keeping him from bolting up the street to the liquor store before it closed. Liv’s presence calmed him, even if they just sat together quietly. However, here in the empty silence of his apartment, his urges multiplied like the shadows.
He continued his pacing, wearing a path into the pale wooden floorboards. As much as he wanted to burn off this energy with a run, he worried that the second he stepped outside his apartment he’d be running straight for a six-pack. Earlier today he’d agreed to be Liv’s boyfriend, and now here he stood in the same mess as always, a piece of shit whose impulses dominated him.
Liv deserved so much better than a guy who wrestled with these demons daily. She deserved someone who could give her a wide-open future, not an ex-con with a rap sheet and an eternal battle against the allure of alcohol. Yet when she flashed him that pristine smile and offered a softness past the sharp edges, he couldn’t turn her down. He might be a monster, but even someone as fucked up as he was couldn’t bear to break her heart.
A knock pounded on his door.
Zane snapped to attention, running his hand through his thick mane. He didn’t have close friends who’d be paying him any surprise visits, at least not anymore. When he’d started the path to recovery, he ousted all of his bar friends from his life. Which left two people. Either his sponsor had become psychic and able to sense his spirals, or the woman who’d dominated his thoughts as of late had shown up on his doorstep.
He made his way to the door, anticipation building at the idea of her on the other side. At the hope that maybe she’d felt the same loneliness—maybe she understood what so few did.
A second knock sounded right as he pulled his door open.
Liv stood in the canary yellow swing dress she’d worn earlier today, the one that made her pale skin glow and lit her sparkling blue eyes like a fucking ray of sunshine. Except the grim twist of her mouth and the anger now burning in those eyes spelled all sorts of bad news, stopping him cold.
“What’s wrong?” Worry swept through him, not helping the pulsing urge to drink his troubles away.
As her eyes locked with his, those blues melted. “Can I come in?” she asked, her voice quieter than her normal loud, brashness.
Zane guided her inside. “What happened?” he asked. Hand in hand, they headed towards his ratty couch where Battlestar Galactica still blared on the screen.
She lifted a brow. “Since when did you start watching sci-fi?” she asked. “You used to tease me so bad about my Farscapeobsession.”
He couldn’t help his grin as he turned the TV off. “I might’ve been needling you for fun. Can’t help it babe. The way you got all indignant had me smitten back then.” Despite the easy way they chatted, an undercurrent of tension hung between them. Whatever brought her to his door had her riled up something fierce, and stirring an urge to smack the shit out of who or whatever caused the upset.
“I needed out of my house,” she admitted, her fingertips digging into her thighs. “I had a welcome party waiting for me when I got back, one who welcomed me right out the door.
“Oh?” he asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. The moment their skin touched, she relaxed.
Liv let out a sigh as she gave him a sideways glance. “If I tell you, promise you’re not going to flip your shit or pull some martyr act on me?”
Like the woman could read his mind. Zane lifted a hand to the air. “I solemnly swear to keep my mouth shut.” Whatever was going on with her right now, she needed someone to listen judgment-free.
“Lex and Tessa ganged up on me with their ‘concerns’ about us dating,” she started. Zane’s internal temperature took a nosedive, but he kept his expression blank. Fuck, talk about the one person he couldn’t face, had never been able to face after that night. Of course, Lex would want him to stay far away from his sister; he’d made his opinion crystal clear. As for Tessa, once he found out her best friend was a cop, he could guarantee the woman would be warning Liv away.
Liv’s eyes flashed as she met his gaze. “Don’t think for a heartbeat I’m going to listen to them.” The strength behind her words struck straight to the core of him, to the voice inside his head who agreed with Lex and Tessa—he was a monster, no good, and unworthy of even a fraction of Liv’s affections. He scratched at his forearms, unable to help himself at the sheer coating of self-loathing that settled over him.
“Don’t know,” he said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “I think most folks would agree tangling with an ex-con alcoholic can only end in flames.”
“Well then, those folks are judgmental assholes,” Liv spat. “You’re more than a fucking label, Z. You’re an amazing chef, a mediocre bassist, and you’ve got this dorky way of scratching the back of your head whenever you talk about anything personal, which isn’t often, but holy hell is it cute. I know you way better than any of those folks casting stones do, and I adore everything you are, Zane Parata.”
She may as well have cold-cocked him. His grip on the couch tightened at the fury in her voice, at the strength of her convictions. Liv was willing to go to war beside him, to go into the trenches and fight with him against those demons, and hell on earth if that didn’t mean everything.
She sat in front of him, her blue eyes flashing, her manicured brows furrowed, and those scarlet lips simmering—she’d never been more beautiful. As the silence between them spread, some of her anger dimmed, and a flash of hesitation crossed her features. Zane reached out to squeeze her hand, realizing his lack of response had brought about the awkward silence.
“I never forgot you,” he confessed, the words spilling out before he could rein them back in. “When they hauled me away to prison, during my time in the joint, and even after—memories of you were the one bright spot in my shit life. I never dreamed in a thousand years we’d reconnect or that we’d get a second chance. But Liv, I need you to know, the way I feel for you is unparalleled. I’ve never experienced a depth of connection so profound before, and I doubt I ever will again.”
Her grip tightened around his, and their eyes locked, intentions clear in the air between them. This wasn’t a confused or distant silence, but one loaded with the storm of emotions that had become their currency.
They stood upon a precipice, ready to dive deeper. Zane’s muscles stretched taut, his breath came faster, and the itch returned under his skin—but this time it was a desire for her that had percolated from the second they locked eyes in Cupid’s Café and not the desperate need for the bottle.
He leaned forward, gently taking her face in his hands as he lowered his lips to hers. Each motion was slow and deliberate. He kept his eyes on hers and saw his own wants and needs reflected back at him.
The moment their lips brushed against each other, he ignited like a lit match tossed to gasoline. The passion and fury he’d been restraining unleashed. She moaned against his mouth, the sound traveling straight south to rev his engines. He brought one hand down to grip her waist tight, those curves of hers making him grow harder.