Page 161 of The Silent Note

Dangerous thoughts.

Unrecognizable, really.

Maybe I was less crazy when I was seeing Sloane.

“Am I too late for class?” a dark voice rumbles while I’m packing up after my last lecture.

I gasp and spin around.

Zane is leaning against the doorway. He’s so tall, his head nearly bangs against the top of the frame. He’s wearing a different Redwood Prep uniform, this one is a sweater vest over a button up.

I frown, having never seen him wear the uniform correctly before. “Where were you all day?” I step closer and notice cuts on his face. “And why is your face scratched up?” Something sparkles in his hair and I rise to the tips of my toes to inspect it. “Is that glass?”

“Oh, that?” He brushes it off.

“Zane, what happened?”

“I was hoping we could take out my bike, but I guess riding one-handed isn’t a great idea. I ran straight into a stop sign. These elementary school kids were crossing the road and they laughed their butts off.”

“Did you get hurt anywhere else?” I look him over.

“No, but my bike has a few marks on her. Don’t worry. Nothing I can’t fix, but I’ll be driving Dutch’s car for a little longer.”

His voice is carefully casual. In fact, even his smile is perfectly easy-going. It’s an expression I’ve seen on his face a thousand times.

He winks, still smiling. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, just let me stop by my desk real quick.” He nods and follows me to the teacher’s lounge. The hallway parts as usual. Everyone watches us, no doubt still trying to decide if we’re involved or if we’re just step-siblings.

For once, I don’t care.

Outside, Zane opens my door for me and I catch him wincing when his wrist accidentally knocks against the car.

“Did you hurt your arm?” I demand.

“It’s just a scratch.”

I grab his wrist and he curls inward, his face tightening in pain.

“Just a scratch? Zane, your fingers are swelling.”

He sputters some stupid excuse that I call BS on.

“Did you really hit a stop sign today? And don’t lie to me again,” I say sharply.

He looks away. “Dad called a meeting. I went to see him and…”

“And?” A sick feeling gnaws at my stomach.

“I met your mother instead.”

The wind is knocked out of my lungs. I blink, frozen. And then, I snatch the keys from him.

He stares at me uneasily, but I don’t say a word. I just shove him into the passenger seat and start the car.

When I climb in, Zane’s expression is wary.

“Babe, I know your mother is a sore spot, but if you plan on working it out the way you did last time, I’m in a little too much pain to be of service.”