The mat beneath my feet suddenly feels less steady.
But I don't back down... not this time.
Zane doesn't move at first, he just stands there near the doorway where Aaron left, broad shoulders filling the frame of the training room entrance. His arms are folded slowly across his chest, the muscles in his forearms tightening as his fingers curl against his bulging biceps.
His eyes stay on me, not even blinking.
The air in the room suddenly feels heavier, the smell of sweat and rubber mats hangs thick around us, mixed with the faint woodsy scent that always seems to cling to Zane like a shadow.
I cross my arms too, mostly so he won't see the way my hands want to shake so badly.
"You're staring," I say finally.
My voice comes out steadier than I feel.
Zane tilts his head slightly.
"I'm thinking."
"About?"
"Whether Aaron has lost his fucking mind," he replies flatly.
I let out a short breath.
"He hasn't."
"Then maybe you have."
I stare at him. "Excuse me?"
