Page 223 of The Silent Note

I look up and meet Zane’s sparkling blue eyes. My heart twists like I’m looking at a painting that’s too magnificent to be real.

“What’d I miss?” he asks. As Viola walks past him, he tugs on the end of her hair. “‘Sup, squirt?”

“I’m not a squirt,” Viola snaps. “I’m fourteen.”

“Thirteen,” Cadence corrects.

“Thirteen and a half,” Viola yells back.

She disappears into the other room as Zane draws near to me. His arm closes around my shoulders as if it was meant to be there. As if we’re two puzzle pieces finding each other after an eternity of being apart.

“Hey,” he says, his eyes glistening with unrestrained admiration.

“Hey.”

“You good?” Zane mouths.

I nod, biting down on my bottom lip and trying not to stare at his biceps that are flexing as he squeezes me.

“Uh. They’re making googly-eyes.” Sol throws his hands up, knife still wedged in his grip. “Someone stab me.”

“Hand over the knife,” Zane says, all without looking away from me.

Cadence coughs. “Zane, you still got a little sand…” She gestures to his hair.

Heat flushes over my face.

Cadence and Dutch were the only two in the formal living room when Zane and I snuck inside. They saw my ransackedhair, wrinkled clothes, Zane’s satisfied smirk and said absolutely nothing to us.

Yet, that silence was extra loud.

“Where?” Zane asks, brushing elegant fingers through his raven locks.

“Let me,” I say softly.

Zane bows his head in front of me and I get the sand out of his hair for him, wincing when I notice the scratch marks on the back of his neck.

Dutch spots the marks on his twin’s neck too and he glances at me, an eyebrow arched.

I cough. “Anyone else need a drink?”

Three hands go up.

I frown at them. “I take that back. No drinks for under twenty-one year olds.”

“Since when—” Sol’s protest ends in a gasp as Zane elbows him square in the stomach.

“You heard her. No drinks for us.”

Sol flips Zane off.

“Grey,” Cadence calls as I set out four glasses of cranberry juice, “have you thought about how you want to handle going back to Redwood?”

All the eyes in the kitchen fasten on me.

“What’s there to discuss?” Zane’s jaw flexes. “Everyone will respect her because she’s my wife. I dare anyone at Redwood to say a negative word about her.”

“Actually, I have thought about it.” I speak slowly and measuredly, already anticipating Zane’s response.