Pursuit of Happiness | Taz Skylar [1]

086. talk to me

It wasn't until later that evening, when Zoe was lying in bed with her body curled into Taz's warmth, her head on his shoulder and her fingers tracing patterns on his stomach, that she built up the courage to ask the question that had been sitting in the back of her throat for most of the day.

"Why didn't you tell anyone about how we broke up?" Zoe asked, rolling her body so that she could lie on top of Taz, one leg draped across his hips and her chest pressed against his. Taz had been dragging his fingers up and down Zoe's back, his arm pushing up the back of her shirt while he traced her spine, but he paused at the question, turning his head to peer down at her. Zoe's hazel gaze was steady and searching as she looked up at him, almost like she thought the answers she sought were hidden in the lines of his face and they would make themselves known to her if she merely looked at him for long enough.

"Was I supposed to tell them?" Taz asked finally, drawing his hand out from underneath Zoe's shirt so that he could use it to brush Zoe's hair behind her ear and out of her eyes.

Zoe rested her chin on Taz's chest, her eyes still fixed on him. There was something piercing about her gaze, like she could see right through him, like she could see every crack in his chest that she could use to pry him open and expose every secret he'd ever had. It made Taz feel exposed, made him want to roll out of the bed and get up, but Zoe's weight kept him pinned to the mattress as she said, "You're dodging the question."

"Zoe . . ." Taz sighed, looking away.

Zoe shifted her leg that was thrown across Taz's hips and he felt every muscle in the leg tense, like she thought he was going to pull her off him and she could prevent it by hooking her leg around him. Her leg was strong around him and under any other circumstance he probably would have drawn her against him and kissed her until both of their heads spun, but he just rested his hand just above her knee, feeling her warm skin underneath his palm.

"Please," Zoe whispered, her eyes burning holes into Taz's cheek as she watched him rest his head back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. Dragging herself across Taz's body, Zoe shifted until her face was nestled against the crook of his neck. Taz's fingers squeezed Zoe's leg and he closed his eyes, only to open them again when the memory of Zoe lying in a hospital bed, cuts and bruises and broken bones littering every inch of her body flashed across the inside of his eyelids.

"Taz," Zoe said. "Talk to me."

That took every conviction that Taz had and broke them in half over its knee. It was the same thing that Taz said to Zoe whenever her old instincts to hide herself away when fear or grief overwhelmed her reared its head. He recognized the words the second they left Zoe's mouth and he sighed, lifting his hand from Zoe's leg to rub over his face.

"I just – I just don't like talking about it," Taz said finally, still staring up at the ceiling.

Zoe pressed a kiss to the base of his throat, rubbing her fingers back and forth across his shoulder. "Because of how I broke up with you?"