“Thanks.” The corner of her mouth ticks up.
It’s the closest thing to a smile I’ve seen this past week, even if it’s just a hint.
She drowns her pancakes in syrup while I transfer the burned pancake to my plate so she isn’tstuck eating it if she wants seconds. Enough butter and syrup at least make it edible.
Reed shoves a bite of pancake into her mouth, and it’s the most beautiful thing. Something about watching this girl eat—especially when it’s food I’ve made—has me wanting to cook for her. To take care of her.
What is it about her that makes me want to give her everything?
“So, what did you mean when you saidit’s not that? What is it then?” She takes another bite, not letting the conversation go.
“It’s nothing.” I shove pancake in my mouth.
“Didn’t sound like nothing.”
I set down my fork, leaning forward on the counter. I didn’t plan on getting into this tonight—or ever. But there’s no avoiding it now.
“Do you know my last name, Sticks?”
Her eyebrows pinch, and I see her trying to remember if I’ve ever told her.
I haven’t. Just like she’s never told me hers. The only reason I know her last name is Jackson is because of her brother.
She shakes her head.
“It’s Zane.”
For a moment, she’s staring at me like she expects me to explain why it would matter. But when her eyes widen as realization hits, her entire face flushes. She blinks up at me, and I can practically feel the cogs in her brain working.
“Mason Zane?”
I nod.
“Like Zane Enterprises, Zane Hotels… CEO, Rick Zane.”
“He’s my father.”
“Your father is Rick Zane?” Her jaw goes slack, and I get it.
We don’t have much in common given he runs a casino empire in Vegas, and I work at a tattoo shop in downtown LA. And it makes it easy to hide that connection.
I don’t even look like him, since I took after my mom’s side of the family. And at one point in my life, I hoped it meant I wasn’t really his kid, but no such luck.
“Unfortunately.”
Reed’s staring at me, and I can’t tell what she’s thinking. Most people want to be my best friend when they find out I’m heir to the Zane empire. But Reed isn’t most people. She’s curious, a journalist. And if I had to guess, the fact that my dad is making deals with her ex-boyfriend says it all.
“We aren’t close.” I take another bite of pancake. “I haven’t talked to him since I left Vegas.”
“Okay.” Her eyes dart around, and I wish I could read what’s running through her head. “So, your sister…”
At that, she trails off, and my chest aches. When I admitted this, I didn’t think about the fact that Reed might have already researched my family.
“Sienna was your sister?”
“Yeah.” I turn around and place my empty plate in the sink.
I grip the counter for a minute and take a deep breath. My sister isn’t a subject I like to talk about. I can barelythink about her and keep my head on straight, much less form words. But if Reed’s been looking into the Zane controversies in Vegas, I have no doubt she knows what happened.