45. Zane

45

ZANE

My phone buzzes on the nightstand, pulling me from the liminal land of half-sleep I've been wandering through all night. I don't know what time it is, but it's definitely too fucking early for my alarm. The sun isn't even up.

The buzzing stops, and my eyes slip gratefully closed. Mira's body is warm against my side, and I want to stay here as long as I can. The panic I felt when Evan texted me yesterday isn't something I ever want to experience again.

As she laid awake last night, crying and pouring out all of the messy thoughts in her head, I wasn't sure if I was holding her for her or for me. Probably both.

It didn't help as much as I would've liked.

My phone vibrates again. And again. By the time I slip away from her and grab it, my notifications are like a firehose.

I hiss against the bright screen as a text from Daniel appears, almost blinding me. Is the marriage embargo lifted? He follows up with a link to a news article.

BABY ZADDY: PHOENIX ANGELS' ZANE WHITAKER TAKES A brIDE .

And another.

FROM HOCKEY HUNK TO HOCKEY HUSBAND: CAN ZANE WHITAKER STAY TRUE?

No one keeps their private life private quite like star of the Phoenix Angels, Zane Whitaker. One Twitter account with an associated true-crime style podcast exists purely to track down Zane Whitaker's conquests because the man himself refuses to kiss and tell. A few months ago, in a bombshell reveal, the world found out that Zaddy Zane became a real-life Daddy… FOUR YEARS AGO! Given how tightly his lips are sealed, is it any wonder he skipped straight over announcing his engagement and had a secret wedding? Well, fear not—we have all the details of his special day and the woman he has pledged his heart to.

The article is replete with anonymous quotes from women I've supposedly slept with in the last four years. One of them claims I flew her from Europe on my private jet for a single hookup. As if I'd ever be that desperate.

The rabbit hole of gossip featuring me is endless. For every trashy article, there are three dozen more, as well as a dozen email requests from journalists looking for an interview.

There's exactly one email I actually open. Releasing the wedding announcement might be too little too late, but give me the go and I'll post it . - Hollis

I should've known punching Carson in the face wasn't going to change his mind. He's like poison ivy—if I don't rip him out by the root, he'll just keep coming back.

I glance over my shoulder and, miraculously, Mira is still asleep. Her cheek is pillowed on her arm and she's breathing, deep and even.

I held her last night and promised I'd protect her. I swore I wouldn't let Dante hurt her, and I meant it. I won't. Not physically.

But there are other ways to hurt someone. Even I can't protect her from all of them.

I slip out of bed and down the hall. Sleep isn't happening, that's for damn sure.

I'm making the world's strongest pot of coffee when Evan texts. I'm outside. Thought you might need backup this morning.

I unarm the security system and crack the front door. Thirty seconds later, Evan is shuffling into the kitchen, hands in his pockets.

"The road outside was clear," he says by way of hello. "No photogs or journalists yet."

It won't be long, though. Barely two weeks of wedded bliss, and now, we're going to have nosy assholes banging on our front gate from sunup to sundown.

"I didn't ask you to report this morning."

He shrugs. "It felt important. Especially after yesterday."

Evan and Daniel were practically carrying Mira inside when they got back to the house. She kept telling me she was fine, but her face was pale and she was shaking. It took most of the night for the tremors in her hands to go away.

"Did you see him?"

Evan shakes his head. "No. The windows were tinted. Daniel couldn't identify him, either, but Mira was positive it was Dante."

I wish even a small part of me doubted her. I want to think this is all a misunderstanding and Dante isn't really hunting her down—but I've clawed my way out of enough trenches to know hoping for the best doesn't get you very far.

"Does your P.I. know anything?"

I clench my teeth. "With how much I'm paying him, he should. He can't pin Dante down. The fucker is like a ghost."

"I was hoping maybe I could corroborate my information with what the P.I. had just to make sure it's legit, but?—"

"What information?"

Evan slides his phone across the island to me. "I didn't recognize the car from yesterday, but I took a picture of the plates. It's the same license plate number that was on the car outside of the gym. And the car that crashed into us."

If I had been doubting Mira, there wouldn't be any room for it now.

"So it was him."

Evan nods. "Unless she has more than one assassin coming after her."

"He's not an assassin ," I snarl. The word is far too official for whatever revenge fantasy Dante is indulging. "He isn't going to touch her."

We look at each other in silent understanding. No one is going to touch my wife. Not now, not ever.

"I'm going to do everything I can to protect her, but…" Evan sighs and leans across the island. "Listen, I don't want to overstep, but I think Mira should see somebody. A professional. I've been in this situation before. I've known people who have had to live scared for years on end… It can really fuck with your head."

The thought that I can't be everything Mira needs bristles, but Evan is right. "She wants to see a therapist. I think it's a good idea, but…"

"Who can you trust?" he finishes for me. It's half-question, half-sad inevitability.

I drag a hand over the back of my neck. "Right now? No one."

Evan leaves to post up outside, and I don't tell him not to. It'll be nice to have another layer of protection between the outside world and my family.

As soon as Mira is awake, I tell her about the information leak.

"We knew this was coming, I guess." There are dark circles under her eyes, and I wish I could whisk her away from all of this.

Maybe a honeymoon wasn't such a bad idea, after all. At least we'd be out of the city.

"As soon as Carson made that threat, I should've told Hollis to release the announcement," I admit. "I naively hoped Carson would keep his fucking mouth shut. Or that he would finally piss someone off enough to get himself killed."

She turns and reaches for my face. Her hand is cold when she cups my cheek. "Hope isn't naive, Zane. It's all we have."

That's not quite true. When I'm holding her, I have everything.

Those words are on the tip of my tongue when the doorbell rings.

Mira stiffens, but I press a kiss to the center of her palm. "It's probably Evan."

"Evan is here?"

"He was worried about you. It's just a precaution."

I can see through the glass around the door that it's Evan on the porch, but his face is obscured by a massive bouquet of red and white flowers.

"What in the hell are these?" I open the door wide and usher him inside.

Mira gasps. "Pretty."

" Heavy ," Evan corrects. He places the vase awkwardly on the entryway table.

"Are they for the wedding?" Mira asks. "Who are they from?"

Evan wipes his damp hands on his jeans. "I didn't ask. A delivery driver dropped them at the end of the driveway. I don't know if there's an envelope or not."

"It's probably from a news outlet," I grumble. "They're always pulling shit like this, trying to sweeten me up for an interview."

"Next time, ask for donuts. Preferably cream-fi—" Mira's voice drops off at the same time a small card falls to the floor.

Her face is pale, her mouth open in a wordless cry for help.

"Mira?"

She doesn't answer. She's shaking, tears gathering on her eyelashes.

I snatch the card off the floor and read the scratchy handwriting inside.

Congrats on the wedding, little sister. Sorry I missed it. I'll be there for the next big thing, I promise. —Dante