Page 97 of Fast

Fuck. I can’t go to do a twelve hour patrol in my police car with this question in my head. My partner is the most silent person I’ve ever met, and there will be nothing distracting me from replaying this conversation over and over in a vicious loop, unless we have to go on a call.

I press pause on the remote, freezing the screen during a fight scene. “Dad wanted to talk to me and Chance when we came home from the wedding. He noticed how close we were dancing and he wasn’t happy.”

Zara keeps her gaze on me, but she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t look surprised.

“He wants us to be your brothers.”

More silence.

“I don’t know about being siblings, but I guess he expects us to be just friends.”

“Do you want to be just friends?” She finally asks.

“Yeah.” I answer like a complete dumb ass.

“Ok.” She restarts the movie.

Ok? Is that it?

ZARA

I’m watching the movie, but I’m not really paying attention.

I can hear the metaphorical cogs in Ares’s brain spinning from here.

His jaw is a perfect, defined line, his cheekbones are high. Ares’s hair is a paler blond than Chance’s, but my favorite thing is his eyes. The silver color with swirls of ice blue is as mesmerizing as Chance’s deep blue, but it’s the shape I find absolutely fascinating.

My eyes are rounder. Chance and Ares have a more elongated shape, with the outer edges turning down ever so slightly. I think Mom said that their ancestors came to the US fromEastern Europe, and those roots are still very alive in the guys’ cheekbones and eye shape.

There’s a long beat of silence. I’m hyper aware of Ares’s gaze on me, but I force myself to look detached.

I think he’s about to give me the same bullshit Chance did when he came to my room after Scott laid down the law about what kind of relationship he wants us to have.

We’re all adults, and I don’t think he has the right to dictate how we should feel about one another. But I can see how both my stepbrothers want to please their father. I can’t say I don’t relate to that. My dad’s opinion of me is one of the things I care about the most.

But the thing with me is that I don’t do well with being controlled. Mom has always told me that I get my wild, rebellious streak from Dad. The truth is, that I don’t like demands based on “because I told you so.”

If someone wants me to do anything, they should have solid reasons, not just try to control me or manipulate me.

Ares pauses the movie again.

“Why are you here, Zara? It’s not just to bring me a batch of cookies.”

At least he got that right. “Why do you think I’m here?”

His jaw ticks. “Don’t do that. Don’t answer my questions with more questions.”

“Fine.” I bite out. “I’m here to hang out.Friend.”

That statement gets a reaction from him. “What the fuck am I supposed to do? Our parents getting married makes everything more complicated. And are you telling me that you and Chance are just friends? My dad might have overstepped when he dictated our relationship, but he was right about one thing.”

My curiosity is peaked. “What’s that?”

“It’s obvious that there’s something between you and Chance. I don’t want to fight with my brother. Especially when you’re part of the family, whether we like it or not.”

I don’t blame him. I hate lies and I hate cheating. Mom says I’m more like Dad than her, and she’s right for the most part. I look up to my father. That doesn’t mean I condone how he treated Mom when they were married. Back then I was too young to understand, but all it takes is a trip down memory lane on the internet, to see that my dad cheated on her pretty much constantly.

That’s the only thing I don’t want to follow in his footsteps.

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