Page 14 of Cruel Dreams

“Okay, that’s enough,” Denton snapped.

“Then you see where I’m going. You could have said something after the plane crash. Maybe we shouldn’t be blaming Zane for this. Maybe we should be blaming you.”

I stifled a gasp behind my hand and ran off, Denton’s expletives chasing me down the hall.

Neither of them found out I eavesdropped, and I’m afraid to say anything to anyone.

I pinch a bit of muffin off my plate.

Though, there’s nothing to say. Shifting blame won’t help—we don’t know what would have happened back then. Zane had been younger, grief-stricken. Had he listened, what would they have done? The FBI still would have been working for the Blacks. They still would have buried the black box’s existence. Maybe Zane wouldn’t have believed I ran off with Sergio, but maybe he would have. We didn’t know each other very well. Ash still would have sold Zarah, and she still would have believed what he told her.

No, shifting blame wouldn’t do any good. None at all.

The morning crawls by, and I keep Quinn company during her physical therapy.

The guy’s cute, but he has two strikes against him as far as Quinn’s concerned. He’s male, and he plays for his team, not ours. He works her over hard enough she cries from the strain, but he’s not very sympathetic. It’s his responsibility Quinn has full mobility of her arm after she heals and he’s not slacking off because of a few tears. To help her smile through the pain, he invites us out to the clubs, but his kind of place isn’t ours. “Too-da-loo, kittens,” he always calls on his way out the door, and Quinn crawls into bed, her entire body shaking.

She’s covered in sweat, but she’s too exhausted to wipe down. I offer, but teasing, she says she’d like it too much. She falls asleep and I lie next to her, rubbing the furrowed skin between her eyebrows the way I would when we were kids and she had abad dream. It brings me back to when we wouldn’t know where we would end up the next day, where we’d sleep. I hated the uncertainty of it, and even though Zane tells me he loves me and that he’ll protect me, I can’t stifle how this life parallels that one.

This life and that one. It’s all one life, and I don’t know why I separate them. I want my life to be better. Before the instability, and after, when I’ve found it.

The only problem is, do any of us really find it?

Zane looks in on us, and I meet his sad brown eyes across the bedroom. He’s wearing khaki pants and a white dress shirt. No tie. He looks tired, but he smiles at me cuddling Quinn. “Do you want to go for a drive?” he whispers. He dangles his keys, raising his eyebrows like maybe I didn’t hear him.

“Is it safe?” I ask, though in a normal tone. Unlike me, Quinn can sleep through anything. Or at least pretend to. You never know who’s going to think they have the rights to your bed...and what’s in it.

“Mel wants us to go somewhere.”

It doesn’t matter where Mel told us to go. I want to see something new, but leaving the hotel will be scary, too. I associate the Crowne with safety, which is stupid, but still.

I don’t need to change to go on a drive, and I leave on my pair of black shorts and a black and teal floral blouse. At the last minute I snag a pair of black sandals off the floor, but I doubt I’ll get out of the truck.

“You look nice,” he says, leading me down the hallway, a hand to my lower back.

“Thanks.”

It’s always like this between us, when he’s spent more time with Nathalie than with me. They’ve been together since yesterday afternoon to dress for the party and of course they spent the night at the penthouse, a necessary precaution in case the paparazzi followed them.

I no longer think they’re sleeping together, but they played at being engaged last night and I’m sad and anxious. There will always be a chance he’ll decide he wants her instead of me.

He stops me instead of pushing the door open to the staff parking lot. The sun shining through the glass warms the tiles, and the heat soaks into the bottoms of my feet. It’s too bright, and I turn away.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice rough.

My breath hitches, and I nod, unable to resist.

Zane lifts me up off my feet, trapping me against his chest. I wrap my arms around his neck, loving he can pick me up like he would a kitten or a puppy. No work at all, simply lifts me up. He searches my eyes for a moment, but he’s never needed permission to touch me. He can feel the space between us, the distance Nathalie causes.

What this whole thing shoves between us.

Slowly, he tilts his head and presses his lips to mine. I sigh, letting my feet dangle. It’s romantic, and I let him sweep me up in it.

Too soon, he puts me down and brushes his thumb over my cheek. “You should wear your glasses,” he says, and I try not to bristle at being told what to do. I should get used to wearing them, used to having them on my face.

“What does it matter?” I ask to start a fight. I’m moody, let’s just call it my period, and it’s another reason I agreed to go on this drive.

“Because you matter to me, and I want to keep you safe. This is already hard enough, Stella. Don’t make it harder.”

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