The Struggle (The Things We Can't Change Book 2) by Kassandra Kush Page B

Not. I’m not even sure what I want from him, what I expect from him. Or do I want or expect anything at all? Sometimes I think I just want to stand next to him, bask in the safe feeling I get when he’s around and nothing more.
    His words from the club the other night are still haunting me, asking me why I can’t be strong, tell everyone to get out of my face. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand the stark terror at being touched, the way it makes me lose all rational thought until I’m not really thinking at all, just going on instinct, and that instinct is just to run away, fast and hard, from anything and everything, not to stand my ground. Zeke doesn’t understand that kind of fear. He’s tall, big and strong and he can intimidate anyone just by looking at them.
    As the week goes on, I find myself admiring the distance Zeke wears around him, the way his appearance keeps everyone at arm’s length. People probably don’t go up and touch him against his will, or mock him when he looks so incredibly tough. I reflect that maybe what I need are baggy clothes and a lot of tattoos, to shave my head, and actually startle myself into a laugh when I picture Clarissa’s reaction.
    It’s more than just his appearance or his looks, though. It’s the attitude, the cold look in his eyes. If I hadn’t seen him talk about Cindy, just that one time, or come after me and try to get me to tell my dad my secret, I would have been able to say without a doubt that Ezekiel Quain feels nothing for anyone, that he probably doesn’t even have a heart. But I know that’s a lie. He’s ‘rescued’ me, for lack of a better word, so many times. What I don’t understand is why he keeps doing it, if he apparently finds me so repulsive and weak. I never asked him to, never wanted him to.
    My head spins round and round all week, always trying to make sense of everything and wishing I had the courage to tell Zeke to quit saving me and go to hell, if he resented it so much. I even think about bringing it up to Dr. Gottlieb during our session, but end up staying quiet. She doesn’t quite understand what’s going on between Zeke and me—not that I do either—and I think it’s something I’d like to keep to myself for now. So I stay quiet and we talk about other things and then I leave her office.
    Due to a scheduling conflict, we had our appointment earlier today than usual, and I get back home at ten and find both my dad and my Uncle Greg in the kitchen. Greg Winslow isn’t my real uncle, but he and my dad have been friends since they were in medical school together, and though the practice still only bears my dad’s name, Uncle Greg is his partner. I’ve known him since the day I was born, and my face lights up with a smile when I see him in the kitchen.
    “Uncle Greg!”
    My first instinct is to run up and hug him, the way I always used to, but I falter after taking just a few steps into the kitchen, creepy-crawlies skittering over my skin at the thought of being touched. I stop on the other side of the kitchen island from him and give a lame wave instead.
    “Hey there, Evie,” he greets, smiling at me and pretending not to notice my awkwardness. “How was your appointment?”
    “Good,” I hedge, and go to the fridge to get a bottle of water. “What are you two up to today?”
    My dad heaves a sigh. “Zeke is ready for us to take him to the garden store so we can pick up stuff for the landscaping, but Greg stopped by because there’s an issue at the office. With the new receptionist.”
    I give him a speculative look. “What kind of issue?”
    My dad and Uncle Greg exchange a look, and my dad finally replies carefully, “We’re… not at liberty to say at the moment. So, I have to run into the Dublin office with Greg, and I was hoping you could take Zeke by yourself.”
    I stare at him for a long moment, slightly disbelieving. “By… myself?” I squeak. The very last thing Zeke and I need right now is to