Chapter 3

Chapter Three

GREY

My eyes flash up to Zane's and alarm bells start clanging when he looks back at me with mischief.

"Get down," I hiss, gesturing for him to drop low.

He tilts his head, smirking. "What'll you give me if I do?"

" Honestly, " mom's voice gets closer, " I wasn't going to complain. I'm really not the type who asks to speak to the manager, but my daughter is having such a hard time. She shouldn't be worrying about simple things like healthy drinks."

The door slides open.

Panicked, I launch out of bed, fling myself at Zane and tackle him to the ground. He drops with an oof.

Mom's heels tick against the floor. "Grace? Gracie?"

I hustle to my feet, my curly bun sloshing lopsidedly to the left. "Mom, you're back."

She's also not alone. The nurse on shift is with her, and they're both staring at me like I belong in a straitjacket.

"What were you doing down there?" Mom asks, stepping closer.

"Nothing," I blurt, stopping her.

She startles. "Why are you yelling?"

"Oh, I…" I notice Zane starting to sit up and slam my bare foot against his chest. He thumps back to the ground. "I was getting tired of being in bed." Moving my arms back and forth as if exercising, I add with a nervous laugh. "I wanted to move a bit."

"Lie down. The doctor said you shouldn't be doing anything too strenuous yet."

"Standing isn't strenuous, mom."

"You never know with a head wound. Better to be safe than sorry."

"I'm fine. Really."

Mom makes a shooing gesture.

I glance sternly at Zane who manages to look like a male supermodel while sprawled on the floor with his hair flouncing around him and his eyes bright. Widening my eyes a bit, I dart my gaze under the bed.

He arches a brow what will you give me?

I bite my lip in frustration.

"Grace?" Mom edges closer. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing. I'm just… trying to get my foot in my slippers." I scrub my foot over Zane's chest and he wraps long, wicked fingers around my heel. The warmth of his hand makes my pulse spike and reminds me of just how traitorous my body is when it comes to him.

I swallow hard when his hand slides up my thigh.

Thinly, I squeak, "Why is it so hard to get my slippers on?" Firmly, I stomp on his ribs and he drops his exploring fingers to hunch in pain.

"You don't need to put on slippers if you're going back to bed," mom points out.

"You're right." I laugh woodenly. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Eyes slipping to Zane again, I purse my lips.

He tilts his chin up in challenge.

I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. With no other choice, I flash the arrogant drummer a subtle ‘okay' sign.

He grins and wiggles under the bed like the snake that he is.

Just in time because mom marches to me and grips my arms. "Stop fooling around, Gracie. The nurse needs to check you."

"Sorry." I climb into bed and pray with all my might that Zane stays quiet and curled into a ball. Because I'm pretty sure that he's taller than the length of this cot if he stretches out.

His feet must not be sticking out though because the nurse does her job without tripping on a pair of combat boots and mom seems totally oblivious to the fourth person in the room.

The nurse finishes with her assessment. "Your daughter's doing much better, Mrs. Cross. I don't think you need to be worried."

"I'll believe that when the doctor says it."

The nurse gives mom a tight-lipped smile. "The doctor should be back this afternoon to chat with you both."

"Um," I speak up, "do you think I can be discharged by tomorrow?" I'm tired of being locked down in this hospital bed. I've wasted valuable time I could have been spending finding the puppet masters behind The Grateful Project.

"Discharged? You were two shards of broken glass away from needing brain surgery. Don't you try and rush anything, Grace Elizabeth Jamieson."

I can't see Zane, but I feel a sudden chill and, somehow, I know he's got that dangerous, angry look on his face again.

"You can discuss that with the doctor as well," the nurse says politely.

Mom escorts the nurse out while asking more questions.

Once we're alone, I peer over the side of the bed. Zane is tapping something on his phone but, as if he senses me watching, his eyes steadily travel to mine.

He winks.

"Gracie."

"Huh? What?" I fling myself up.

"Great news," mom declares, "the nurse said you can have ribs if it's not too spicy. Isn't that great?" She comes and tucks the blanket around my legs. "Maybe a nice baby back will tempt your appetite."

Keenly aware of Zane under the bed, I nod at mom and struggle to find an excuse that will get her out of the room. Should I ask her to go and make those ribs now?

Before I can, mom's phone rings.

"Hello? What? Of course. I'll be right there."

"Who was that?" I ask, noting from her expression that it's something serious.

"The police. They found something on the hit and run driver and they want me to come to the station." Mom's smile dims and she hesitates, glancing at me and then at the door.

"What are you waiting for? Go!" I urge her. The faster that jerk is caught, the faster I can get a good night's sleep.

"I don't want to leave you alone."

"I'm not a child. I can handle being alone for a few hours."

"It's not that."

"What is it then?"

Her gaze sharpens. I read her like every thought in her mind was transcribed into a book.

"You're worried about Zane coming to see me," I whisper.

"I saw Dutch and Finn walking around the hospital this morning. I'm sure of it. That means the other one is close by."

He's closer than you think, mom .

"I told you. Zane and I don't speak anymore, and we won't meet ever again." Mom looks unconvinced so I add, "I have no interest in complicating my life right now. With the accident and the stuff at school, I'm barely keeping my head above water."

"I just hate that he tempted you to do something so immoral. Your entire life could have been ruined. You can still be ruined. In these cases, it doesn't matter how you justify yourself. If anyone even thinks you were being inappropriate with a student, with your stepbrother on top of it all?—"

"Mom."

"He thinks he's slick with the motorcycle and the tattoos?—"

"Dutch and Finn have tattoos too."

"But they're not as cocky. I can smell it all over him. He takes pleasure in toying with girls only to ruin their lives."

My eyes dart down. It's not that I disagree. It's just that I feel awkward about Zane hearing mom's bashing in person.

"I promise, mom. Zane and I are nothing to each other. He will never be anything more than my student and Jarod Cross's son."

A little twinge in my chest whispers that I'm lying, but I ignore it. I will not allow myself to cross the line.

Not again.

The accident showed me that the road I'm walking is dangerous and I need to walk it alone if I have any chance of bringing justice to Sloane.

Mom moves over to me and gives me a hug. Her exhale stirs my hair. "You've always been a good daughter, Gracie. Always. That's why I forgave you for letting things get that far in the first place. Your candle flickered, but that doesn't mean the flame has to go out. If anyone can hold on to their light, it's you."

I blink rapidly and nod.

Mom steps back, eyes tearing up, and blows me a kiss. "I'll pick up some ribs on the way back."

"Sounds good."

Her footsteps retreat and the door slides open and shut.

We're alone.

"You heard her," I announce. "This can't happen again."

Zane slowly unfolds himself from beneath the bed and straightens to his full height. A muscle in his jaw ticks, underlining his frustration or resolve or maybe both. He runs his good hand through his hair, mussing the violet-black strands.

I keep my face turned away, forcing myself to pretend I don't care.

"I'm sorry, but you won't be able to keep that promise," Zane says.

I stiffen. "What promise?"

"The one where you and I are nothing to each other."

I swing around and look at him. His sea-blue irises are like hooks, digging into all the off-limits parts of me and holding me hostage.

"You and I will always be something to each other," he says.

I reach deep for a sneer of disdain.

This is it.

I have to cut this off right now or I'll always be looking for him, waiting for him, thinking of him.

"Don't be delusional, Zane." Narrowing my eyes, I exhale. "Aren't you embarrassed? Even if you aren't, I'm embarrassed for you. How many times do I have to say I'm not interested?—"

"Marry me."

The rest of my brutal words end on a hiccup.

Zane smirks, totally unruffled. "Grace Elizabeth Jamieson, be my wife."

Everything in me goes still…

Because, unlike the night of the accident, this proposal doesn't sound like a request.

It's an order.