Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

GREY

Zane is eighteen.

We're married.

This isn't wrong. This isn't wrong.

And yet, with a few sharp words from Zane, all the straw houses I built crumbled and the shame is now roaring back.

My fingers tremble as I re-button my blouse and tuck the ends into the band of my pencil skirt. The scent of us lingers and I wish I could crack the window to let in fresh air. The smell gets stronger when I lift my hands to my nose. Guiltily, I grab my hand sanitizer and lather it on.

I feel… filthy.

Emptying out the hand sanitizer, I lather on more. For a brief moment, I wonder if I should try to clean off the backseat. We made a mess, and it's not like we asked permission to use Dutch's car as a makeshift honeymoon suite.

Heart hammering, I bring my hands to my hair and feel the knots. Curly hair isn't the best for raking your hands through and Zane didn't exactly care about preserving my curls when he was pulling my hair and panting into my neck.

I pour a little water from a mini-bottle I keep in my purse, slather it between my palms and try to wrestle my hair into a ponytail.

The strands catch on my wedding ring and yank. The sensation is as sharp as when Zane gripped my hair and did the same. I impatiently disentangle the ring from my hair and stare at it.

The stupid rock winks brightly back at me as if giving its approval.

I'm an idiot.

Wrenching it off, I throw the ring back in my purse.

"If you made up your mind to get naked with him, you should at least be proud of it," Sloane says.

I glance up and notice her sitting in the front seat. Her neck is twisted as she peers at me with narrowed eyes.

"You're back."

"Yeah, but I kind of wish I wasn't. All this ‘oh I'm an awful person for banging my husband'," she makes a dramatic face, "it's kind of pathetic, Grey."

"Thanks, Sloane. That's just what I need to hear right now." I pull out my cell phone.

"What are you doing?"

"I thought ghosts could see everything?"

She pouts. "That's mean."

She's not wrong.

I soften my tone a smidge. "I'm calling a car and getting out of here."

"You're going the Cinderella route?"

"Should I jump off a cliff and join you in whatever inter-dimensional realm you are instead?" I fire back.

Her eyebrows tighten. "Aren't you supposed to be chock-full of endorphins, right now? Did Zane do it wrong?"

I glance away because the way Zane made me feel was so good , it HAD to be wrong.

"That would be a shame. He didn't look like the selfish type."

"He's not," I blurt, not sure why I'm so defensive.

"Oh?" Sloane's pale fingers wrap around the headrest . "You know, I'm learning new things about you everyday, Grey." She wiggles her eyebrows. "Like the fact that you're secretly adventurous."

"Adventurous? Me?"

"I may have blinked out, but I was there long enough to see who was initiating what." She purses her lips, holds out her hand and does a terrible Oliver Twist impression. "Please, sir. Can I have some ? —"

"Finish that sentence and I'm hiring an exorcist."

She laughs at me. "Was this time as enjoyable as the last time?"

Face burning with heat, I look at anything but Sloane or the shadow of Zane's back outside the window.

"Come on," Sloane begs. "I'm dying to know."

"Pun intended?"

"Don't change the subject."

"Things went as expected." I order the ride and finish tying my hair into a ponytail to avoid looking at her.

"Don't feed me that bull. Last time, you had a bed. And he had both hands, so how did he manage in a backseat of all places?"

"Trust me, one hand was… enough."

Her eyes twinkle.

"And that's all you're getting. We are not discussing Zane's…" I stammer over the words and Sloane opens her mouth to supply me with, undoubtedly, a bunch of crass descriptions—so I quickly tack on, " performance ." I narrow my eyes. "Why are you here anyway? You usually don't show up this fast after you disappear."

"Humph." Sloane folds her arms over her chest. "Maybe it's because you're so cranky? I seem to show up most when you're in a bad mood. Which sucks for me."

My eyes widen in realization. Talking to Sloane always made me feel better when she was alive, and it seems like the pattern is continuing now.

"Do you think that's why you're appearing to me? Are you… my guardian angel?"

Sloane bursts out laughing.

I chuckle with her.

"You and I both know I'd be the worst angel ever."

I smile a little wider. "Well, whatever you are, I'm glad you're here."

"Me too." Sloane's head swivels away. "Oh, look. Your ride's here."

I check my app and realize she's right.

The wind is chilly when I step out of the car. The clouds in the distance look darker, promising rain.

Great. Now that I'm not in need of stormy weather, the sky is finally willing to cooperate.

"Grey?" Zane's voice booms when I shuffle toward the other car.

My rideshare driver winds the window down. "Jamieson?"

"That's me." I open the door.

Zane slams it shut.

I whip my head up, doing my best to look at anything but his full, pink lips that are coated in my tinted gloss. Lipstick stains the right side of his neck and the inside of his palm. A memory of him cupping my mouth as he commanded me to be quiet bursts to mind.

My legs tremble and I quickly turn away.

"Where are you going?" Zane demands.

"None of your business."

"You can't just leave like this."

"I can and I will."

"Grey."

I move toward the car and then stop. Whirling around, I dive into my purse for a wet wipe and hand it to Zane. "Wipe your face."

He accepts the wipe from me.

"Lady, are you coming or not?" the driver insists.

Zane takes my hand. "Let's talk at home."

"Don't touch me. People are watching." I wrench my arm free.

His eyes darken like the storm in the sky, except these storm clouds are a lot closer than the ones above us. Zane steps forward, lips hardening in that familiar, rebellious way and I can tell he's about to give whoever's watching a show.

Quickly, I duck into the car and lock the door.

Zane pulls on the handle and pounds the window. "Grey, open up."

"Drive!" I yell. "Go, go, go!"

Wide eyed, the driver takes off.

I wilt into my seat and close my eyes.

"Stalker?" the driver asks.

I don't answer.

"That guy looks familiar," he muses.

I keep quiet, hoping my silence spells out that I don't want to talk about it.

Unfortunately, the driver makes a mental discovery and snaps his fingers. "I remember now. The Kings. I saw them out at the EDM festival last spring. Jarod Cross's kids, right? I love Jarod Cross. Got all his albums. But his kids were great on their own. I had an awesome time."

I make a noncommittal but polite sound.

"That guy's the drummer, right? My buddies and I were cracking up watching girls fling their bras at him. His drum kit looked like a lingerie stand." Laughter follows the statement.

My jaw clenches.

Sloane edges up beside me. "You hear that, Grey?"

I scowl at her.

" Careful or I might just think you're jealous."

"I'm not jealous," I snap.

The driver stops and shoots me a worried glance in the rear-view mirror. "My bad. Are you his girlfriend?"

" Correction . Wife," Sloane says with a mischievous grin.

"No, I don't know him at all."

"Right. Right." His tone says he doesn't believe me but, thankfully, he changes the subject. "So you're heading to the hills?" He taps on his tablet to verify the location.

I hesitate. There's no way I'm returning to The Kings' mansion, but going to mom's is off the table too.

Sloane tilts her face toward mine. "Go home. Married couples shouldn't go to bed angry."

"Just take me to the nearest hotel," I say.

Sloane rolls her eyes.

At that moment, my phone buzzes.

I ignore it.

Sloane arches both eyebrows. "Aren't you going to get that?"

I quietly shake my head no. It's probably all the people I don't want to talk to. Right now, that list is comprised of Zane, mom or Jinx.

Ugh. Jinx.

No doubt, the anonymous hacker is itching to ask why I ran off with Zane today. Someone probably saw our car parked on the highway too. It's not like we were that far from Redwood Prep when we….

I run a hand over my face. It was downright foolish of me to do anything with Zane so close to Redwood. If I'd been in my right mind—which obviously, I had not—it never would have happened.

My phone keeps ringing.

Even the driver looks back at me with a question in his eyes.

Sheepishly, I take out my phone, intending to cancel the call.

But the number isn't Zane's or mom's or Jinx's.

Warily, I answer. "Hello?"

"Miss Jamieson!"

I sit upright, recognizing that voice immediately.

"Please!" The junior who assaulted me on the back steps of Redwood Prep and broke Zane's wrist after the dance shrieks in my ear. "I need your help. Please." Footsteps pound desperately in the background. "Please."

"Theodore, what's going on?"

"I'm s-scared. I don't know who else to call."

I exchange a concerned look with Sloane.

She shakes her head and mouths, " don't do it."

I squeeze the cellphone tight and wrestle with myself. Hall might be a brute, but he's still my student, my responsibility.

"Theo, slow down and tell me exactly where you are."