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Zane answers dressed in crisp jeans and a dress shirt. I guess no one really relaxes around here, but I don’t suppose he’d answer the door in his pajamas, either.
“She’s still upstairs, fussing,” he says, but at least he’s smiling when he says it. “She hasn’t had a lot of nights like this, if you know what I mean.”
We stand in the foyer, me awkwardly holding the cheap flowers, Zane looking me over like I knew he would.
“Yeah, I do,” I say.
“I mean, she dated in high school, and she and Ash messed around before we knew what kind of an asshole he was, but just a date, dinner, whatever. She’ll have a new appreciation for it.”
I don’t like pussyfooting around. I like things clear, concise, and to the point so I know what I’m dealing with. “What are you saying, Maddox?” I ask, my eyes narrowed. Like hell he’s going to warn me off Zarah again. I asked her out, and she said yes. That’s enough for me.
“I don’t want her falling in love with you,” he finally says.
“It’s not up to you.”
He’s my height, not as strong. I lift weights, he pushes paper, but he can look me straight in the eyes and he does now, his gaze not wavering. “Are you in love with her?”
“No.”
“Then what are you doing? Your job?”
“She asked me that the other night. I’m not here for Max. I’m here for myself. I like her. I like talking to her, making her laugh. For now, that’s it. It wasn’t slow, you and Stella?”
“No. I fell hard, the second I saw her. Her eyes, you know? Her smile. I was just a kid back then, grieving and fucking whatever moved. She saw through me, and it pissed me off. Made me grow up. There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t think about where we’d be if Ash hadn’t fucked us up.”
Over his shoulder, movement catches my eye, and Zarah and Stella walk down the stairs. I think about Max’s journal entry, Zarah’s dark to Stella’s light. Can Zane see it? I wonder if it was a conscious choice of Ash’s to claim both of them, or if he only took Stella because he wanted what Zane had. I know he took her to hide what their foundation was doing—kidnapping babies. She was a pesky piece of evidence he kept locked away. But with all the lives he’d ruined without remorse, he could have just as easily killed her and he never did.
It makes me wonder.
Zarah meets my eyes and her steps falter, her grip tight on the handrail. Her gaze lights on the flowers. Her face clears, and she smiles.
“Hi,” she says, trotting down the last couple of steps. “They’re pretty.”
Not as pretty as you, I want to say, but the words are too cliché and Zane’s stare is burning into me.
“I hope Zane hasn’t been giving you trouble.” She sticks her tongue out at him.
It loosens my muscles a little, that she’s in a playful and good mood. We’d go anyway, but I don’t know her well enough to know what she’s like on a day she’s had therapy. The sessions can’t be a walk in the park, but maybe she’s seen her therapist long enough there are no more surprises.
“I’ll put these in water for Zarah,” Stella says, holding out her hands. I pass the roses to her and she clutches them to her chest, the petals grazing her chin. “Have fun.”
I get a sense she’s trying to hurry us out the door. Stella’s a sweet girl, and I know she’s doing it more for my benefit. It’s nice she’s on my side, but I don’t need anyone fighting my battles for me.
Zarah tugs her coat off a hanger in a large closet, and I hold it as she slides her arms through the sleeves.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Ready?”
“Yes. Bye,” she calls over her shoulder.
“Be careful,” Zane says, and Zarah shuts the door in his face.
“That was awkward,” she says, laughing. “Sorry.”
“I felt like I was meeting your mom and dad,” I joke, opening the truck’s door. I boost her into the high seat, and we’re eye level. “I wouldn’t need to pick you up to kiss you now.” I cup her cheek in my palm.
She leans in for a minute, touching her finger to my lips, barely brushing my skin. “My dad wasn’t very intimidating, and the boys he met were trained early on to be polite, at least in the presence of adults.”