Page 28 of Shattered Dreams

“Then do that. The building sits on a hundred acres of land. Zarah has money. Build whatever you want. After all this, the land is worth more than the facility.”

“You seem to think Zarah and I are going to stay together.”

“I know you will. You look at my sister the way I look at Stella.” He offers me the pen.

I uncap the silver and grey pen and scrawl my name on the bottom of the page. “That’s smooth.”

“It fucking better be. It’s a thousand-dollar pen.” He laughs. “Christ. You should see your face. You’ll be good for my sister, I have no doubts about that. Go home, or back to the penthouse. You look like shit.”

“Feel like it, too, but I have some things I need to scratch off my list.” I pause and feed Baby another piece of bacon. “She said she has a trip planned, but she was making noises about staying in King’s Crossing. Encourage her to still go.”

Zane lifts an eyebrow as he stores the paper in his briefcase. “Because she’s safer out of the city?”

“Maybe. She dumped me to do her own thing. We’re not back together, I mean, I guess we are, but you were right. We went too fast. I don’t want to make the same mistake twice.”

“Giving a woman space is a double-edged sword. You think you’re giving them what they want, and they think you don’t want them anymore. I went through that when Stella was in Florida getting to know her parents. I didn’t want to interfere, but there was nothing I wanted more than to hear her say she was coming home.”

“That about sums it up.”

“Zarah leaves the day after tomorrow. If you’re on solid ground, she’ll feel better about going.”

“You’re a manipulative son of a bitch,” I grouse, hefting to my feet.

“Sure. And I always get what I want. Thanks again for stopping by. Feed Baby the rest of the bacon. She deserves it.”

Zane clicks his briefcase closed and slips out the door, and I’m left alone with nothing but a platter of breakfast, a carafe of coffee, today’s newspaper, and a fucked-up heart.

A hot shower and more coffee go a long way. I feel almost human, and when Mom calls, I actually answer, tacking on a “Good morning.” Lately I’ve been surly, downright unfriendly, and I think she’s going to faint.

“Gage. How are you, darling? I haven’t heard from you since New Year’s Eve! You didn’t call to tell me you were okay. It’s unacceptable I heard about your truck exploding on the evening news! For goodness’ sakes. Reporters calling here, asking why you and Zarah Maddox broke up—like I have any idea—and I see onTruth or Dareyou carrying on with a redhead I’ve never met.”

Her tirade goes on and I regret I answered, but she’s still my mother, I still have Max’s apartment to pack up, and she said she’d help. It will be the perfect project to keep my mind off the fact that while Zarah’s in California, I’ll be stuck in the frozen tundra that’s Minnesota.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been really busy.”

“Too busy to tell the woman who gave birth to you that you’re all right after someone tries to kill you.”

“I’ve had other things on my mind, like figuring out who did it. Besides, it’s not like it hasn’t happened before.”

The last part doesn’t faze her. “And have you? After what happened to Max, I can’t believe your father didn’t at least get in touch and tell me you weren’t hurt.” She quiets. “Is he seeing someone?”

I frown. What would she care? “Not that I’m aware of.”

“Well, you would know.”

Not necessarily, but I don’t tell her that, not wanting to keep her going on the subject. If Pop brings home a lady friend, it’s none of my business.

“He hasn’t said anything. How have you been?”

“Fine, fine. Rourke’s in DC, you know, doing his thing. I’ll be flying out in a couple of weeks to attend a gala at the White House.”

“That’s great.” And sounds like nothing I want to be a part of.

“I was calling to see if you still wanted help cleaning out Max’s apartment. It would mean a lot to me, and of course, I’ll reimburse you for the rent you’ve been paying. Really, Gage, it’s not like you to stick your head in the sand when it comes to things like this.”

“I know.” I already went into why I did, and I’m not going to repeat myself. “I would love the help. In fact, let’s plan to do it this weekend, okay? I already have some boxes in his apartment, but I’ll buy more. I rented a storage unit and that’s an option if we find things we don’t know what to do with.”

“That sounds perfect.” She stops, and I can feel the maternal worry ooze through the phone. “You and Zarah. You’re not seeing her anymore?”

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