Page 35 of Fame And Secrets

I took two steps, forcing him against the door. “Explain what? Why your knife was in my guest room? Or why blood is all over my goddamn house? Maybe also why my window is busted? Go ahead, I’m all fucking ears.”

Zane tried to take the knife out of my hand, and I pulled my arm back. With a low growl, he reached for it again, his hand barely missing the handle. “Give me my damn knife, man.”

“Come and get it.”

“Julian, stop it!”

We both faced Phoebe, her hands wrapped protectively around her stomach. I kept my voice as even as I could. “Stay out of this.”

Zane snorted. “Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.”

I turned back and sneered. “You, shut up…and don’t talk to her. You talk to me. You tell me why you were at my house with a knife. Then, maybe, you can have it back.”

“Fuck you, bro.”

I rolled my eyes and lifted the knife higher. “Is that the best you can do, Z?”

“Julian, stop being an ass.” Phoebe’s voice cut through the masculine warfare.

My eyes shifted toward her, every muscle in my body clenched. “He owes us an explanation.”

“I told you in the car he’d have a good reason for it.” She faced Zane, her features softening. “Don’t you? Don’t you have a reasonable explanation for your knife, and the blood, and everything?”

Zane’s face twisted in hardened indecisiveness, and he stared silently at us.

I shook my head in disbelief. “Man, we’ve been friends for a long time, but I swear if you don’t answer her, I’ll punch you in the fucking eye.”

Zane darted a glance from me to Phoebe and back again. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he dropped his long beard to his chest. “I dropped it.”

“I gathered that much, Einstein. Why were you there?”

With his brow furrowed, he growled in obvious avoidance, “Jag, I swear, if you don’t stop being such an asshole, I’m gonna put my foot up your ass. I said I dropped it.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What were you doing in my house?”

The room remained silent, three pairs of ears waiting for a response. Two of us waiting for an explanation for the hell we’d just left.

With every ticking second, I grew more agitated. Dropping the knife on the carpet, I grabbed Zane by the collar. “What the fuck were you doing in my house?” He never fought back, never spoke, and never shifted his glance.

“He came after me, Julian.”

All eyes turned to the staircase. Faith stood at the top, her hand gripping the railing as her wild blond hair fell down her shoulders. Blood caked her arms and legs. I let go of Zane’s shirt, glancing at him as he rubbed his forehead, his eyes closed.

“Faith, go back upstairs,” he ordered.

I glared at him. “The hell she is…” I turned my attention toward the top of the staircase. “What the hell happened to you?”

“You don’t have to answer that, Faith.”

“Why don’t you let her answer for herself?”

Taking three more steps, Faith lowered her eyes. “It’s okay, you don’t have to hide me.” With the last step underneath her bare feet, she clung to the railing post. “It was dumb, Julian. Zane and I had a fight, and I couldn’t go back to my house, well, for obvious reasons.” She glanced up at Zane, and he looked away. “Phoebe gave me a key to your house after the whole hospital thing and with her picking you up at LAX, I knew you guys would be gone for hours with freeway traffic.”

“So you just, what, Netflix and chilled at my house?” Anger threatened to overflow again.

“I don’t know what I planned to do, I just needed time to think.” She sighed and gripped the banister. “When I got there, I saw the window had been broken. I tried to clean up the glass, but I tripped and fell into it. I cut my hands and legs to hell. I was bleeding, so I called Zane to help.”

Phoebe spoke up. “But that doesn’t explain the blood upstairs.”

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