They stood facing each other without moving, two fixed points in a storm neither of them could control. Rain struck the windows in steady sheets, a dull relentless rhythm that filled the quiet spaces between them. Willow could hear her own heartbeat more clearly than the rain, each pulse marking the seconds that stretched longer than they should have.
Zane watched her with the still intensity she had come to recognize, the kind of focus that made it impossible to pretend he did not see her completely. His shoulders remained rigid beneath the damp coat, his hands loose at his sides only by force of discipline. He looked as though he had rehearsed a dozen arguments on the drive over and found none of them sufficient, as though every word he wanted to say had been weighed and rejected for being too late.
Then he spoke.
"As your boyfriend, I don't feel comfortable with you going. Even if, as you say, it's nothing."
