Page 77 of Cruel Dreams

“I appreciate it, but if I let myself run away, all I’d be doing is hiding from something I said I wanted. I have responsibilities now, and I can’t pretend they don’t exist, no matter how much I want them to disappear.” I pause. “Do you think you’ll come back and work for Maddox Industries again?”

Denton blows out a breath. “Zane mentioned it more than once, but things have changed, and maybe after all this time, not for the better. I’m not the same person I was when Kagan and I worked together, and the company isn’t the same place it used to be, either. The idea of working there again feels like stepping back in time to a place where I don’t think I want to be. Sometimes it’s best to look forward and leave the past behind.”

“I understand.”

“Anyway, you and Zane are a good match. He needs your grit because God knows, that boy can waffle. There’s a saying that behind every strong man is a stronger woman, and that was definitely true in Kagan’s case. Lark had grace and beauty and an inherent goodness that cost her her life. You remind me a lot of Zane’s mother, and if I can say anything about Zane, it’s that he’s fortunate to have you. Good luck, Stella, and give me a call sometime. I’ll visit, eventually. King’s Crossing will always be home.”

We end our conversation, and his parting words ring in my ears.King’s Crossing will always be home. Can it be mine, when my family lives in Florida?

I rinse my bowl and put it in the dishwasher. I’ve never had so much time to myself. After I left Maryanne’s, I was busy working, attending online classes, worrying about paying bills and keeping a roof over my head. I’ve never lived without direction, always trying to find a better place than where I’d come before.

I miss Zane, miss how I feel being held in his arms. Loved. Safe. Maybe he thinks we broke up. I never told him I didn’t want to see him again, but I didn’t call or text to thank him for the debit card and the IDs. I should have, because while I thought he was shutting me out, he’d really been working his ass off to keep his promises and give me what I needed no matter what path I took.

I brush my teeth, crawl into bed, and grab my cell. I’m bringing up his number—and swallowing a huge bite of humble pie—when someone knocks on my door. My heart slams and my skin grows clammy. There’s no one around who would visit me. Quinn’s in New York, Mel’s gone, Denton already said his goodbyes, and Max is dead. There’s no one left who would want to see me unless a reporter tracked me down.

Thankfully, the newspapers and local news channels haven’t paid me much attention. There are bigger things to talk about, though a few women’s magazines want to interview me about my experience trapped in the shipping container on Ash’s cargo ship. I told them I would find out the contact information of the other women who were with me and Quinn, as they could use the small fee paid to them for their time a lot more than me, but I’m ashamed to admit I was too busy wallowing to call Special Agent Banks and ask. I lost track of them, and I would like to know how they are.

Quinn’s right. I am selfish.

The person at my door hasn’t given up and knocks again. The door’s locked, and the chain’s engaged, so I’m not worriedsomeone is going to break in, but I quietly pad to the door and holding my breath, look through the peephole.

Zane’s standing there, but he’s too close, and I can only see his shirt and tie through the fish-eye glass.

Crap.

I’m not ready to see him in person. I’m not ready to look into his eyes and see how much I hurt him giving him the cold shoulder.

I rest my forehead against the door.

“Stella, I know you’re there. Open the door. Please.”

His rich voice floats to me and grips my heart. God, have I missed him. I slide the chain and twist the deadbolt open. He’s leaning against the wall waiting for me to open the door. He looks exhausted, but he sees me and smiles. “Can I come in? Just to talk? I know you hate me.”

Hate him?How could I hate him?

“Yeah.” I move to the side, and he walks in, his steps heavy.

He sinks onto the couch, and I sit next to him, pulling a throw into my lap, my pink cast a stark contrast to the white material.

“I was just about to call you,” I say, worrying the thin blanket between my fingers. I have a difficult time meeting his eyes, but I do because I owe him more than what I’ve been giving him. A lot more.

“Yeah?” His irises are the gooey chocolate color I adore, warm, holding all his love and affection for me. Deep shadows rest beneath his eyes, and scruff covers his jaw. I want to crawl into his lap and ask him to never let me go. But how fair is that when he expects me to leave? When I have to?

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for ignoring you, and for the way I treated you at the pumpkin patch. I...was in shock. I know it’s not an excuse, but it’s the only thing I can say that’s true. Ineverthought what social services told me was a lie. I never had dreams that my mother had given me up by mistake, or that Iwas stolen out of my bassinet at a hospital. There were kids, you know, who would tell stories, say they were really royalty, but their parents had hidden them away, trying to keep them out of danger.” I scoff. “We all did what we had to do to cope. While we waited. Waited for what? That was different for every kid. Some kids in foster care, theydidhave parents who couldn’t take care of them, and they waited for a day when their parents wanted them back. Most of the time, that never happened.”

Zane reaches for my hand, and I let him hold it.

“A lot of kids were like me and Quinn. Had nowhere to go, no family left to love them. Then there were kids who had plenty of family, but they didn’t want the burden of caring for a child who had issues. And God, most of us, we had issues. I was realistic, and I knew, or at least, I thought I knew, my mother passed away. There wasn’t anyone left to love me, simple as that. So when you told me I was kidnapped, Jesus Christ, that sounded just like the nonsense I had to listen to from kids who couldn’t face the truth. That they had no one.”

It’s easier to be angry than scared, but I grit my teeth. No point in being angry, either.

Zane links our fingers, and I focus on our hands on his leg. I want him to tell me I can stay here, that we can ignore everything and build a life together. That I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. But I’m an adult, and I have adult responsibilities. I have to do things I don’t want to do.

“Has anyone told them they found me?” I ask reluctantly.

“No. Banks asked me what you wanted, and I didn’t know. That’s why I’m here. Do you want to meet them, Stella? Do you want to go to Florida and see your parents?”

Tears drip down my cheeks and I can’t stop them. “I want to, but I’m scared. What if I can’t come back here?”

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