Page 105 of Broken Pieces
We simply breathe.
Moonlight drips over the rooftops in silver puddles. The town looks asleep. Porch lights glow softly in the dark. Streetlights flicker across the town. The world is a little quieter up here. A little farther away. A little less cruel.
Zane shifts beside me.
I turn my head, and the flick of his lighter cuts through the dark.
It clicks once, twice, before the flame flares to life, catching on the end of a joint. The ember glows orange, bright against the line of his jaw and the mess of his hair. He is trouble dressed in shadows, that stupid hot mouth tugged into a smirk as if he already knows I’ll take whatever he gives me.
He drags in a slow, cocky as fuck breath. Eyes half-closed, chest rising with that first hit, as though the smoke is the only thing keeping him breathing. He exhales, thick smoke drifting up into the night, and holds the joint out towards me without a word.
His fingers graze mine as I take it from him.
Slow. Intentional. A tease.
Zane lies back on the roof, arms folded behind his head, his shirt riding up enough to expose a sliver of skin and an old scar slicing across his hip.
My eyes catch both. And suddenly, my mouth’s dry and everything inside me is burning.
I bring the joint to my lips and inhale deeply. The burn trails down my throat, heat curling low in my stomach.
I pass it back.
Our fingers brush. He holds on a second too long. Heat sparks in the space between us. My skin hums, every nerve awake and aching for more.
I lie beside him, my shoulder brushing his.
The stars burn above us, but all I sense is him.
The shift of his arm — the heat he left on my skin. One fucking touch and my whole body’s rewired, every breath out of rhythm. He’s chaos in a slow burn, the kind of fuck-up your body aches for even when your head’s screaming no. And I’m already too far gone to pretend I’m not falling.
The world quiets.
For the first time in days, the silence doesn’t choke. It seeps into my bones, and finally… finally I can fucking breathe.
Zane takes another hit, the tip flaring red as he drags in deep. Smoke curls from his lips as he exhales, then holds the joint out without a word.
We fall into a rhythm.
Passing it back and forth, no rush, no pressure, just silence.
The sharp edges of everything melt, bleeding into each other until nothing feels real.
The stars smear into silver streaks above us, dancing across the sky that won’t stay still. They sway and breathe and blur.
My limbs go heavy, loosening them until I’m nothing but heat and haze, stretched out beside Zane with no will to move. There’s no need to. I could stay here forever and forget the world ever hurt me.
When Zane holds out the joint again, I lift my hand, palm up. “I’m good.”
He nods once, then takes one last hit before snuffing it out between his fingers
He exhales slowly. “Rainer got me a car today.”
I turn my head toward him. “A car?”
He nods. “Nothing fancy. Rusted to shit. But it’s mine.”
There’s something in the way he says it that guts me. Like it’s no big deal. Just another step forward. A car. Freedom. Proof he’s clawing his way out of the wreckage and building something that almost resembles a life.
