Page 90 of King of Malice

“Let me see,” Zane says as he immerses himself in the two-foot-deep water, only his head above the surface. “I went through a green phase as a child, then blue. I nearly drove my dad crazy repainting my room.”

I feel the tug, one I haven’t let pull at my chest for years. I wanted to be one of those kids that had parents who would decorate their room with them. I’d be lying on some stained mattress in a shit crack house and I’d dream about a pretty pink room with lace curtains, and a canopy, and a mom who read me a story and tucked me in.

I carried the fantasy with me when I moved into every shitty little musty-smelling bedroom in my string of foster homes. I look away, letting my legs float down river. “And what color did you finally land on?”

“Camo,” he answers with an easy smile. “What about you?”

“I’m a red girl,” I say with a shrug. I don’t share that pink was my first fantasy or about how my favorite jacket was red. I got it when I was fourteen at a thrift store and took it through five different placements and then to my first job interview at a local diner. It was my first piece of armor that gave me confidence.

I got the job but blew it up three weeks later when I stole from the register after the boss screamed at me for messing up an order.

“I can totally see you as a red girl.”

“Oh yeah, why’s that?” I flip on my side to meet his eyes.

“Flaming hair, dark eyes, temper. Red suits you.”

That makes me smile. “Yeah. I guess it does.” I let the water pull me downstream a bit. “So, why’d you join the military?”

His smile slips. “My dad died. I didn’t have money for med school.”

I’m silent for a second, processing that one. “I’m sorry about your dad.” But I didn’t miss the fact that med school was mentioned.

“Thanks. It’s been twelve years, and it hurts a lot less than it used to.”

I nod. “What about med school?”

“I went, thanks to the GI Plan.”

“Wait,” I stare at him my eyes going wide. “You’re Dr. Zane?”

He smiles again. “’Fraid so. Though they usually call me Dr. Phillips. The military paid for the degree and then I served as a medical professional when I graduated.”

My eyes cast down. I barely graduated high school. Mostly because of my behavior. I was smart enough. Which is just more evidence this thing with Zane is very temporary. I’m not the girl who lands a doctor. I should have known…

Planting my feet, I stand, wading out of the water before I wrap myself in a towel. “I’m hungry. I’m going to get something to eat.”

I came here for change. A chance to step outside my fucked-up life and try to find a future. But there is no way this is working out.

Zane gets out too, coming up behind me. “What would you like?”

“I’ve got it,” I answer, slipping on my flip-flops before I start for the cabin.

“Are we back to that?”

“To what?” I ask, huffing out a breath.

“This food thing. You get very resistant…”

The words fly out of my mouth before I think about them. “When people starve you, you learn not to let anyone control your food—” I stop, realizing what I’m saying. What the fuck is wrong with me? I never say shit like that.

It’s like my every wound has come to the surface.

But his eyes go wide as he reaches out a hand to me. I slap it away before I turn. I’m too raw, I don’t want to touch or be touched.

I start for the cabin, but I hear him following. “What?” I turn again, my hands coming to my hips as I glare.

He stops too, assessing me slowly. “You were in foster care with your friend, right?”