The Captain's Dirty Little Secret

Chapter 228: Chapter 228 - Still Here

Zac woke before sunrise with Roxie asleep against his chest.

Her fingers were twisted into the front of his sweatshirt, holding on even while she slept. One leg rested over his beneath the blanket, and her face was tucked against his shoulder.

At some point during the night, he had carried her from the couch to the bedroom. She barely opened her eyes when he lowered her onto the mattress, but she grabbed his shirt before he could stand.

”Stay.”

He climbed into bed beside her.

Before she fell asleep again, he told her they would talk tomorrow.

Tomorrow had arrived, and Zac was already finding reasons to delay it.

His face hurt. His ribs hurt every time he breathed too deeply, and the cuts across his knuckles had dried against the sheet. Ethan had hit the same side of his face that Nathan, Arthur, and Mike had already damaged. Even lying still made parts of his body ache.

Roxie shifted against him.

Her shorts had moved higher on one leg, exposing the bruises across her thigh. Some had darkened overnight. Zac could see where her fists had landed again and again.

He stared at them until his stomach tightened.

She had been alone when she did it.

Mr. Robinson had come. Claire’s lies had broken open. Before that, they got into a nasty fight. The guilt was eating him alive.

Zac carefully opened her fingers and moved her hand from his shirt. She made a quiet sound and rolled toward the space he left behind.

He stood beside the bed.

He should wake her.

He should sit down and tell her everything he promised to explain. Instead, he pulled the blanket farther over Roxie’s legs and left the bedroom.

The bungalow still smelled like Ethan’s soup.

The bowl lay beside the coffee table. Most of the liquid had soaked into the old rug, and dried noodles clung to one table leg. A dark smear remained on the wall where Ethan had wiped blood from his mouth.

Zac carried the bowl to the sink.

Cleaning gave his hands something to do. He scrubbed the rug, wiped the wall, washed the bowl, and gathered the clothes still lying near the couch.

His Tennessee papers were already stacked on the coffee table.

Ethan had done that.

Zac looked at the pile every time he crossed the room. Ethan had picked up the glass too. He had cleaned the first mess and made Roxie food before Zac came inside and created another one.

Zac pressed the rag harder against the rug until pain spread through his knuckles.

By the time sunlight started reaching over the houses, the living room looked normal again.

Roxie was still asleep.

Zac went behind the bungalow and pulled the mower from beside the small shed. The grass had grown high near the porch and around the side of the house.

He had cut it before. He had also fixed the loose kitchen cabinet, replaced the leaking pipe under the sink, and patched the porch step.

The bungalow always needed something.

Zac could handle that.

He could fix wood, pipes, hinges, and grass without explaining why his whole life now fit inside one bag.

The mower cord resisted on the first pull.

Zac yanked harder.

Pain tore through the bruises beneath his ribs, forcing him to release the handle and bend slightly. He pressed one hand against his side until he could breathe normally again.

Then he pulled the cord a second time.

The engine started.

He pushed the mower across the yard, moving slower whenever turning it pulled against his ribs. Sweat collected along his back despite the cold air. After several rows, his shirt started sticking to his skin, so he removed it and hung it over the porch railing.

The mower covered everything inside his head.

For a while, he thought only about keeping the rows straight.

When the front door opened, Zac was halfway across the yard.

Roxie stood in the doorway with both arms wrapped around herself. She still wore his long sleeved shirt and the shorts from last night. Her hair was flattened on one side, and her eyes remained swollen.

Cold air moved against her bare legs.

Zac shut off the mower.

Roxie watched him cross the yard. Her eyes moved over the bruises along his ribs and shoulders before returning to his face.

He walked past her and entered the bungalow.

”Zac?” she called.

Zac grabbed the blanket from the couch and came back outside.

Roxie had not moved.

He opened the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

”You’re going to freeze.”

”I’m fine.”

”You’re shaking.”

”It’s cold.”

”That’s the problem.”

Roxie pulled the blanket closed beneath her chin.

Zac looked at her bare legs. The bruises were partly hidden by the shirt and morning shadows, but he knew where each one was.

”You can sleep longer.”

”I’m already awake.”

Her voice sounded rough.

Zac went back inside before he started asking questions she had already refused to answer.

He started coffee and made breakfast from what little food remained in the refrigerator. By the time he returned, Roxie was sitting on the top porch step with the blanket around her. She kept most of her weight on one hip so her thighs barely touched the wood.

Zac handed her a mug and sat beside her. He placed the eggs, toast, and bacon between them.

Roxie looked at the plate.

”You made breakfast?”

He nodded.

She took a piece of toast.

They ate without talking.

A garage opened across the road. An older man carried a trash bag outside and raised one hand when he saw them.

Zac nodded.

Farther down the street, a woman walked a small dog that kept pulling toward the mower. A vehicle started behind the neighboring house.

The street slowly woke around them.

Roxie leaned against Zac’s arm.

He moved his coffee to his other hand and let her settle against him. The blanket covered part of his side now too.

No one was shouting.

Nothing was breaking.

For a few minutes, Zac could pretend he woke at the bungalow every morning. He could cut the grass, make breakfast, and sit beside Roxie without thinking about Dylan’s couch or the duffel on his floor.

”What are you going to do about Mr. Robinson?” Zac asked.

Roxie answered immediately.

”He isn’t my father.”

Zac looked into his coffee.

Mr. Robinson had sent money. He had watched Roxie work inside his house and seen the clothes she wore. He knew where she lived. Then he went home to the family who carried his name.

Arthur had paid for everything Zac needed too. Football equipment, clothes, private training, and the vehicles he took away when Zac stopped obeying.

He didn’t know which one was the worse.

”Okay,” Zac said.

Roxie lifted her head.

”That’s it?”

”What else am I supposed to say?”

”I thought you’d tell me to talk to him.”

”Do you want to?”

”No.”

”Then don’t.”

Her shoulders loosened.

She rested her face against his chest again.

Zac placed his mug beside his boot and put one arm behind her. He kept his hand above her elbow, away from the bruises around her wrists.

They stayed that way until the coffee began cooling.

Zac looked down at the top of her head.

”Want to go somewhere later?”

Roxie sat straighter.

”Where?”

”I don’t know. Somewhere.”

”Like a date?”

Some of the exhaustion left her face.

Zac felt like an asshole before he even answered.

”If you want.”

”I need to shower.” She looked down at his shirt and the blanket. ”I can dress properly.”

Zac should have thought of an actual place before asking.

He had borrowed Dylan’s car. The money in his wallet needed to last until he figured out how to get to school and practice. Asking Dylan for more felt impossible after taking his couch, food, and car.

”Raven’s Point?” Zac asked.

Roxie’s smile weakened.

”Oh.”

Zac looked down at his coffee.

Raven’s Point cost nothing. It was private, so nobody would ask about his face or why he was driving Dylan’s car.

Roxie probably imagined a restaurant. Somewhere public. A normal date where she could dress up and sit across from him without hiding.

”Yeah,” she said. ”I’d like that.”

Zac heard the pause.

He could tell her the truth now.

He could say he had been thrown out and barely had enough money left to handle the next few days.

Instead, he kissed her forehead.

”We’ll go later.”

Roxie nodded and leaned into him again.

The mower sat halfway across the yard. One side of the grass was shorter than the other.

Roxie traced one finger across his palm.

”I hate us when that happens.”

Zac knew exactly what she meant.

Her throwing his clothes and Tennessee papers. His hands locked around her wrists. Her palm striking his injured face. Ethan’s blood on the wall. Roxie falling when Zac ripped his arm from her grip.

He looked down at the marks around her wrist.

”I was angry,” he said. ”I knew I was hurting you.”

Roxie’s finger stopped moving.

Zac turned her hand over. The bruises had darkened overnight. He could see where his fingers had pressed into her skin.

”I could’ve let go.”

Roxie watched him.

”I’m sorry.”

Her eyes moved to the side of his face. She lifted her other hand and placed it against the cheek she had slapped.

The skin hurt beneath her palm.

”I’m sorry too.”

Zac leaned into her hand.

”I shouldn’t have hit you there.”

”You shouldn’t have hit me anywhere.”

Her hand started moving away.

Zac caught it gently before she could lower it.

”I shouldn’t have grabbed you.”

Roxie looked down at their hands.

”I thought you were leaving.”

”I was.”

”I know.”

Her thumb moved carefully over the edge of the bruise on his cheek.

”Just don’t do it again.”

Zac lowered her hand.

”Grab you?”

”Leave.”

He looked toward the road.

”I leave because I don’t know what I’ll do if I stay.”

Roxie reached for his hand again.

”When you leave, it gets worse.”

”Worse than me grabbing you?”

She hesitated.

Her eyes moved to her wrist before she wrapped her fingers around his.

”At least when we’re fighting, you’re still there.”

Zac went completely still.

Roxie shifted closer beneath the blanket.

”When you walk out, I start thinking you won’t come back. I keep checking my phone and listening for your truck. Every minute you’re gone makes it feel more real.”

”Rox.”

”Yesterday, I thought everyone finally had enough of me.”

Zac looked at the blanket covering her thighs.

”Did you hurt yourself because I left?”

Roxie pulled her hand away.

”It wasn’t only you.”

That answered him.

”Mr. Robinson came,” she continued. ”I found out Claire lied about everything. I found out there was money while I was working and going hungry.”

”I know.”

”So it wasn’t only because you left.”

”But me leaving was part of it.”

Roxie rubbed both palms over the blanket.

”I didn’t say that.”

”You didn’t have to.”

Pressure tightened beneath Zac’s ribs.

He had left because staying felt dangerous. His family had thrown him out, his body hurt, and Roxie kept pushing him for answers he could not give without admitting he had nowhere to go.

He thought walking away would stop the violence.

While he was gone, Roxie hurt herself.

”I don’t want to hurt you,” Zac said.

Roxie looked at him.

”Then stay.”

The answer came fast.

Zac stared at her.

She was asking him to remain in the room the next time they were both angry enough to hit each other.

He knew it was dangerous.

He also knew what happened when he left.

”What if staying makes it worse?”

”Leaving already does.”

Zac gripped the edge of the porch.

There had to be another answer. He knew that. He could step outside and call her. He could stay close without standing in front of her while both of them lost control.

None of those ideas reached his mouth.

Roxie needed him there.

That was the part he heard.

”Okay,” he said.

Her eyes searched his face.

”Okay?”

”Next time, I stay.”

Roxie moved closer and wrapped both arms around his middle. Her cheek pressed against a bruise over his ribs.

Pain ran through his side.

Zac held her anyway.

He had just promised to stay inside a fight he already knew could turn violent.

Roxie relaxed against him like the promise made her safe.

After a while, Zac looked toward the open bungalow door.

”Do you regret calling Ethan?”

Roxie’s arms tightened slightly.

”No.”

Zac’s jaw moved.

”He helped me,” she said.

”I know.”

”He listened. He cleaned up and made food.”

Zac looked toward the half-cut yard.

Everything Ethan did remained inside the bungalow even after Zac washed away the soup and blood.

”But I wanted you,” Roxie said.

Zac looked down at her.

She lifted her face.

”I needed someone, but I wanted you to come back.”

The jealousy inside him responded before the guilt did.

His hand moved to her waist and pulled her closer beneath the blanket.

He wanted Ethan gone from her phone. He wanted Roxie to stop seeing him at the grill. He wanted to know that Ethan would never be the first person she called again.

Zac also knew Ethan had answered when Roxie needed someone.

Zac had returned later and punched him.

”You should’ve called me,” he said.

Roxie touched the bruise beside his cheek.

”I’m scared you’d reject it,” she said.

The words landed harder than they should have.

Roxie leaned up and kissed the bruise. Her lips moved along his jaw, then touched the corner of his mouth.

Pain went through his split lip. Zac pulled back with a groan.

”Careful.”

”Sorry.”

She kissed him again, softer.

Her mouth barely touched his before she started moving away.

Zac caught the back of her neck and brought her closer.

He kissed her slowly at first.

Roxie turned beneath the blanket until most of her body faced him. One hand moved into his hair while her knee pressed against his thigh.

A car passed on the road.

Zac should have stopped.

Anyone could look toward the porch and see them.

Instead, he wrapped one arm around Roxie’s back and pulled her onto his lap.

She winced when her thighs touched his legs.

Zac loosened his grip immediately.

”Your legs.”

”I’m fine.”

”You’re hurting.”

”Stop thinking about them.”

She kissed him harder.

Zac adjusted her until most of her weight rested against his hips instead of the bruises on her thighs. The blanket remained around both of them.

Roxie pressed closer.

Her fingers tightened in his hair. Zac slid one hand beneath the back of the shirt she wore and stopped above the waistband of her shorts.

The kiss became harder.

Roxie breathed against his mouth before pulling him back in.

Zac opened his eyes.

Her face was still swollen from crying. Bruises circled her wrists. His knuckles were split, and his lip had started bleeding again.

They apologized.

They promised nothing would happen again.

Then Zac agreed to remain inside the next fight because Roxie was more afraid of being abandoned than being hurt.

They had fixed nothing.

Zac pulled back enough to speak against her mouth.

”This is fucked up. You know that, right?”

Roxie looked at him.

”Yeah.”

Neither moved away.

Zac kissed her again.

Roxie pulled him closer by the back of his neck while the garage across the road closed and another car started farther down the street.

The neighborhood continued waking around them.

Zac held her beneath the blanket and kept kissing her.