Take a Hint, Dani Brown (The Brown Sisters #2)(84)

But that didn’t stop him fucking hurting.

“I don’t think she’s ever going to want the things I want,” he admitted, the words almost choking him. “She told me from the start, and I acted like I got it, but . . . Part of me hoped that if I showed her things could be good, she’d change her mind. And that’s just fucked up. Dani was the only one who could change her mind about us, and maybe she was going to, but I couldn’t give her the time she needed to do it.” He paused. “Or maybe she wasn’t changing her mind at all, and she only spent the night with me because Inez Holly told her to. One of those.”

Kiran’s eyebrows flew up. “I’m not entirely sure what that last part means, so I’m going to ignore it, if you don’t mind.”

“Wish I could ignore it,” he muttered. Trying didn’t work. The words haunted his mind again, and this time he noticed they were taking on the familiar, taunting cadence of an anxious fixation. He took a breath, and another. Kept talking, because sometimes that was the only way to untangle his own knots. “Bottom line is, I think I hurt her, going too far, too fast. And I definitely hurt myself. I don’t know if we can do this, and she’s positive we can’t, so . . . maybe that’s that.”

“Oh,” Kiran murmured after a while. “I see. I’m sorry, Zaf. I’m really sorry.”

“I know,” he said softly.

“Are you going to . . . talk to her?”

“I don’t know.” He wanted to. More than anything, he wanted to go after her and make everything right—because that’s what he was supposed to do. That’s how you got to a happily ever after. Except Zaf’s desire for a happily ever after, and his idea of how love was supposed to look, had pushed him into this mess. He thought for a moment longer, then shook his head. “I’ve chased her too hard for too long, and all that did was make her panic.” Zaf knew panic. He knew the squeeze of fear, knew the way it left you shaken and unsure of who you were, and he didn’t ever want to cause that feeling in someone he loved again. Just the idea made him physically sick. “I don’t know what else to do except leave her the fuck alone.”

“If you’ve overwhelmed her,” Kiran said slowly, “that might be a good idea. I know sometimes you worry about things being . . . right or wrong, ruined or perfect. But there are shades of gray, too, Zafir.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah.” He wanted to learn those shades—or rather, to get better at remembering them. He knew he could do it.

But one thing would never change: Zaf loved Danika in bold black-and-white, stark and completely unsubtle, no shades of gray to be found. He loved her absolutely and he loved her uncompromisingly. And if that was all wrong for her, he’d just have to deal with the loss.

Ah, he was so fucking screwed. But at least he wasn’t alone.

Zaf came to a stop, turning to face his sister. “Kiran . . . have I ever said thank you?”

She blinked, raised her eyebrows. “For what?”

“For staying with me. Back then. When Dad and Zain—when they died. I tried to make you leave me alone. Or hate me. But you wouldn’t.”

“Well,” she said with a smile, “you’re impossible to hate.” Then her expression softened. “You stayed with me, too, you know. And Fatima, she couldn’t ask for a better uncle.” Kiran reached up to put a hand on his cheek. “You’re my little brother, Zaf. I love you. I don’t leave you. Your mother and I, Jamal and Fatima, we’re all a family.”

A family. A broken one, true, but broken didn’t mean ruined. He and Danika had broken clean in half this morning, but nothing about her was ruined, either. Because the world wasn’t split into unhappy endings and happily ever afters. There were blessings everywhere and a thousand shades of joy all around him.

Every shade should be savored.



Danika wasn’t entirely sure what death felt like, but she was certain her current state must be close. True, nothing had actually harmed her. And yet, the minute she’d slammed Zaf’s front door behind her, she’d felt as if several vital organs had been wrenched from her body all at once. As if they were trapped on the other side of that door, slamming against the wood to reach her, and she could feel every last bruising smack.

Now, for what felt like the thousandth time today, a sob racked her shoulders, and the hollow of her empty insides ached.

Beside her, on Chloe’s vast, marshmallow-y sofa, Eve grimaced. “Oh dear.” She speared Sorcha with a grave look and murmured, “You did the right thing to bring her here.”

“No, she didn’t.” Dani sobbed (yes, sobbed, again—her tear ducts appeared to be malfunctioning) from beneath a wad of Kleenex.

“And to call me,” Eve continued.

“No, she didn’t.” Dani glared across the living room at her best friend. “When have I ever ratted you out to your sisters, you traitorous . . . lizard!”

Sorcha arched her magnificent eyebrows. The effect was quite severe. “If I ever call you in a flood of tears and request an emergency rescue from the back of some random chip shop because I’m crying too hard to walk home, I give you formal permission to contact whichever of my sisters you wish.” She paused. “Except Aileen. Don’t you dare call Aileen.”