Page 30 of Cruel Dreams

I’m tired of being homeless. Why is it so hard to find somewhere that feels secure? That feels familiar? I’m so tired of running.

Max wraps his arm around my waist and helps me off the plane. He knows I’m exhausted, but the concerned look he gives me out of the corner of his eyes tells me he knows it’s more than that.

“It will all be over soon,” he says.

Once it begins, Clayton and Ash’s house of cards will quickly topple, but that’s not what worries me.

“Then what?”

Max kisses my forehead. “I wish I knew.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Zane

Idon’t give a shit about what they discovered in DC. Max looks like the cat that ate the canary, a satisfied grin on his face. They must have found something good on Clayton and Ash, but the only thing I can focus on right now is Stella.

I’ve been hoping to find answers about my parents’ deaths for the last five years, almost six, but all I can think about is pulling Stella into my arms and never letting her go.

One look at her, and I know that won’t be happening. She’s dead on her feet. I keep forgetting she’s having a difficult time adjusting to the outside world—what’s beyond the walls of Black Enterprises.

Zarah is the same. Mel asked her if she wanted to go to the airport to pick up Max and Stella. She wanted to, the yearning clear in her eyes, but in the end her fear won out and she stayed behind and waited with Quinn and Ingrid.

It broke my heart to see my sister, who used to be so bright and boisterous, cower at the idea of leaving the Crowne.

There isn’t a day that goes by I’m not reminded of what a bastard I am.

When Mel said they were flying home tonight instead of tomorrow, I almost pooled at her feet in a puddle of relief. Zarah wasn’t the only one who worried while they were gone.

She jumps into Max’s arms, and he hides his face in her hair. I wish Stella was that open with me. Uninhibited. But she hangs back and lets Quinn hug her and gratefully accepts Quinn’s offer to fix her a cup of coffee and something to eat.

I grit my teeth and check my impatience, pacing to let my built-up energy out, and I give Stella time to nibble on the leftover chicken and mashed potatoes Mel ordered for dinner that Quinn reheated in Max’s microwave.

On the couch, Zarah sits as close to Max as she can, and he fills us in on their trip, relaying a conversation he and Stella had with a woman named Patty. It sounds like they were lucky and found an agent who was willing to divulge information she shouldn’t be sharing, much less have. Kissing Zarah’s cheek, he frees himself from her tight embrace and opens his suitcase to retrieve a manila envelope. He hands it to Mel saying, “This is it.”

She wiggles the sheaf of paper out of the envelope and meets my eyes. “Zane, this is the CVR’s transcript. Do you want—”

I’m done. “I’ll look at it tomorrow. Stella.”

She glances at me, exhausted and guarded, and protectively, Quinn narrows her eyes, warning me off. We have a complicated relationship, Quinn and me. We both want what’s best for Stella, but we don’t agree on what that is. She can hate and blame me for all of this, but I only care about what Stella thinks of me.

Shadows smudge beneath her eyes and her face is pale. The trip was short but hard on her.

Maybe I should let her go to bed.

Fuck it.

I need her, and I have to convince her she needs me, too.

She rolls her chair away from the conference table and stands, and no one says anything. When I get into this kind of mood, everyone knows not to get in my way.

Barefoot, she crosses over the carpeted floor, and I grab her hand and all but drag her out of Max’s room. There’s time to talk about the next thing we need to do, and right now, I need to address the white elephant in the room. While Stella was gone, I was scared shitless.

We walk to the Honeymoon Suite, neither of us saying one word, and I’m grateful she came with me. I wouldn’t have fought her if she would have said she wanted to let Quinn tuck her into bed, or talk to Zarah, or let Mel catch her up on the progress we made while she and Max were in DC, or any of the other million reasons she could have used to avoid spending time with me.

I let the latch click. We still prop our doors open to maintain transparency, but everyone will know what Stella and I are doing and I’m not going to explain.

The room’s dark, but I don’t need to see her to know where she is. I feel her presence in every cell of my body, all the time. I know when her breath hitches, or when her heart thrums in fear or excitement. I know when she’s scared—I can smell the scent on her skin. I know when she’s aroused...I feel the heat when she flushes with desire.

---