I would have killed Theodore Hall if she hadn’t wrenched me off him.
He would be dead at my feet.
I’d be a murderer.
And I wouldn’t even be sorry.
Because he hurt her.
He put his hands on her.
So why the hell should he be breathing air?
It’s scary.
Not my thoughts.
How calm I am with them.
How accepting.
She’s turned me into a monster. Or maybe I already was and she just makes that monster bold and unafraid of the light.
“You’re getting blood on your steering wheel,” she says.
“It’s Finn’s car,” I mumble.
Her chocolate eyes land on me. “Even worse.”
My jaw flexes.
She sighs. “Should we have just left him there?”
“As opposed to what? Taking him for coffee?”
“The stones are uncomfortable.”
I grunt. “He attacked you and you’re worried about his freaking comfort?”
“He might need to go to the hospital.”
“Screw that. Let him bleed out like the animal he is.”
Her teeth dig into her bottom lip.
My eyes drop there. Her lipstick is smudged and it streaks a little at the corner. The collar of her shirt is stretched out. Curls expand all over her head, frizzier than normal.
Holy crap.
Looking at the damage Hall inflicted makes me want to turn the car around and beat him to a pulp again until his brains splatter out of his skull.
I’m sinking into darker and darker thoughts and I don’t realize my fingers are tightening over the steering wheel until I feel a soft sensation on my knuckles.
Grey’s feather-light touch descends on my bloody hands. “You should probably go to a hospital too.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure all this blood is his?” Her eyebrows quirk.
My stomach tightens in the strangest way. “I’ve been beating my drums instead of people for a long time. This isn’t anything I can’t handle.”
Those soft brown eyes meet mine. “Why did you come back to school? I heard you’d been suspended.”
I suck in a sharp breath.
She stares through the windshield. Light from the lampposts spray gold and silver all over us.
Her voice is bleak and withdrawn. “Did the fight in the hallway today have anything to do with me?”
Rather than answer that question, I turn down the air conditioning.
“Zane.”
“Your mom said your car was in the shop. She was worried about you catching the bus so late at night.”
“She’s always worried.”
“Yeah, I’m seeing that.”
“You didn’t have to come.”
I laugh, but it sounds brittle. Even I can hear it. “I didn’t. I was on my way to a party. I just happened to pass by.”
“You wear that to parties?” She eyes my hoodie.
“What am I supposed to wear?”
She shrugs.
“We’re not like your generation. No one dresses up to go to parties. Everything’s chill.”
“My generation?” There’s laughter in her voice.
That’s good. Real good. If she kept frowning worriedly like that, I would have lost my mind and turned this car around, just so I could see if Hall was still lying where I left him.
And then I would have run him over with my car.
“My generation was definitely the superior one,” she muses.
“Did you even have internet back when the dinosaurs were roaming?”
She scrunches her nose. “Very funny.”
I flick the indicator and take a left. The smell of Hall’s sweat and the copper scent of his blood still clings to me. The first thing I’m going to do when I get home is burn this hoodie.
“Zane,” Grey says, going serious again.
“What?”
She backs off. “Nothing.”
“I hate when people do that.” I flick her an annoyed glance. “Drives me crazy.”
“To be fair, you seem to live on the edge of crazy. So it doesn’t surprise me that such a little thing would set you off.”
I chuckle. “Miss Jamieson, did you just insult me?”
“I’m calling it like I see it.” When she turns her face to the window, she’s smiling.
I grin too.
Suddenly, she sits straight up. “Zane, this isn’t the way home.”
Her words startle me and I glance around. The houses are familiar. The driveways. The gated yards.
A growing awareness fills my chest.
I brought her to the place I used to share with my brothers.
This villa has always been home.
And it still feels that way even though I changed addresses.
I start to turn the car around. “My bad.”
“Don’t.” She stops me.
I freeze.
“My mom can’t see you like this.” Her eyes slide over my blood-stained hoodie and knuckles rubbed raw from the fight. “It’s better this way. You can shower and change here.”
I agree and drive into the garage.
Viola greets me with a hug when I walk through the door. I see her eyeing the blood on my hoodie, but she doesn’t ask any questions. Given the rough neighborhood she grew up in, she must have learned to keep her mouth shut the hard way.
“Hey, kid.” I ruffle her hair.
She smacks my hand away. “I’m not a kid. I’m almost fourteen.”
“Exactly. You’re practically a baby.”
She sticks out her tongue. “You’re a baby.”
I press both hands over my heart and stagger back. “Ow.”
Grey chuckles, her eyes sparkling in a way that makes my chest tighten.
Viola smiles at her. “Oh, you’re pretty. Can I do your makeup? Wait, I don’t think I have a foundation that would match your complexion. If you bring your own foundation, I could totally rock a soft glam.”
“Um…”
“Forgive her. She barely talks English.”
“I talk English,” Vi says.
“You talk makeup.”
“Makeup is not a language.” She rolls her eyes and then presses insistently against Grey, inspecting her like a designer with a model. “You have such thick eyelashes. I wouldn’t even have to use my lash set.”
“Rein it in, Vi.” I give her a little nudge. “Grey is tired.”
“I’d love for you to do my makeup another time,” Grey says, being way too nice as always.
“Where’s your sister?” I cross the room to grab a bottle of water for Grey.
“She and Dutch went to buy groceries.”
“Really?” I arch a brow.
Dutch has never bought groceries in his life. I can’t imagine my giant, scowling brother browsing the vegetable aisle, picking out the freshest cucumbers and haggling over salmon.
Love really has changed him.
“Zane, how about I do your makeup, huh?” Viola wiggles her eyebrows.
“Sorry, kiddo.” I crack the water bottle open and hand it to Grey. “We’re not staying long.”
Viola doesn’t miss a beat. “How about another collab with me on my makeup channel?”
“That depends.”
The kid sighs heavily. “I’ve been practicing.”
“Is that why you haven’t sent in your homework for three days?”
She scrunches her nose. “Why do I have to practice every day?”
“Because that’s the only way you’ll get better. Even if you pretend you’re beating your worst enemy, you still gotta do it.”
“Fine.” She sighs like I asked her to swim with sharks.
I look up and find Grey watching me with a weird look. “What are you two talking about?”
“I’m teaching her the drums.”
Her eyes soften for a second before she quickly masks it with a dry, “Oh.”
“I’m not that good,” Viola says.
I shrug. “She’s getting there.”
Grey smiles. “I’m sure you’re great.” She sticks out a hand. “I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Miss Jamieson, but my friends call me Grey.”
“I know who you are,” Vi says, casually accepting the handshake. “You’re Cadey’s teacher.”
“That’s right.”
“Are you Zane’s teacher too?” Her smart brown eyes dart between us. “Why are you here? Is this, like, a private study session for The Kings? That is so cool.”
Grey’s eyes jump to me and wander back down to Viola. She laughs nervously.
The guilt is all over her face. It’s like a shadow on her features. Tightening her lips. Chasing the light from her eyes. It’s almost suffocating to watch.
Damn.
I clear my throat and back away. “I’m gonna take a shower.”
Maybe that’ll clear my head.
