Page 115 of The Darkest Note

Finn and Zane gesture for me to go ahead.

“We’ll wait out here,” Finn says.

“Don’t you have class?” the nurse insists.

Zane cranks out a smile that has her blushing. “Can you give us a minute more? We’ll leave as soon as we’re done here.”

She clears her throat, still looking flustered. “Five minutes.”

“Thank you so much,” Zane says huskily.

I grip the curtain that’s hiding Cadence from view. Just before wrenching it back, I hesitate.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I’m not supposed to be the dutiful hero of the story. I spent all weekend freaking plotting all the ways I could bring her doom. She’s in my way. She’s inSol’sway.

Maybe I should have left her in the water.

That thought alone is messed up. I don’t deserve to pull aside the curtain, but I do anyway because I break all the damn rules, even if they’re my own.

Cadence is lying flat on her back. Her hair’s still wet and seeping into her pillow. There are several blankets piled on top of her. I note that her rose-bud lips are starting to return to their normal, pink color.

It’s unnerving how beautiful she is even without makeup. Most girls pile it on, needing it for the confidence boost, needing a mask. I’m not against it. Redhead and her fiery red lips star in my dreams most nights… when Cadence isn’t taking over the fantasy. But there’s something about Cadey’s fresh-faced beauty that makes her look innocent and fragile. Like something to be protected.

Something to be protected?

What. The. Hell.

I can’t do this. I can’t get soft on her. Not when the stakes are so high and the clock is counting down. We have less than ten days to get Sol back into Redwood.

Even if she’s got a crappy mom and a tough home life, it’s none of my business. She’s not where she belongs. That much hasn’t changed.

Despite the eloquent arguments, I still don’t leave Brahm’s makeshift room. Spying some towels on the shelf, I take one down and gently smooth it over her hair.

If the point is to keep her warm, then her head should be too.

I work quietly until most of the clumped strands are dry. Then I lift her head, gently, and slide a fresh pillow beneath her.

When I return outside, I hear the nurse asking Zane, “Is there any family we can alert?”

“No,” I growl out.

The nurse arches an eyebrow.

“Her mom died. Her younger sister shouldn’t be worrying about this crap.” My fingers flex and curl back into a fist.

“O… kay.” She looks taken aback.

Zane chuckles, doing what he does best—smoothing over a tense moment with charm. “Could you let us know when she wakes up, beautiful? We’d really appreciate it.”

“I’m supposed to contact her family only—”

“Just let us know,” I cut in brusquely.

“We’d really appreciate it,” Zane says, turning up the charm a few notches higher.

She gives him a tight nod.

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