Keep (Seaside Pictures 2)

“Shenanigans.” Demetri smirked and then nodded to Jaymeson. “Hey, Jay, can you spell it?”

“F-U-C—“

“Okay!” I stood, wincing as I realized how close my outburst sounded to actually finishing his spelling. “Who wants coffee?”

Lyss, Nat, Dani, and Pris raised their hands, of course all the girls were ready for an escape.

We quickly made our exit while Jay continued to spell every naughty word he could think of in front of my parents.

I think the low point came when my dad asked what a certain sex toy was and then asked my mom if it was physically possible—after all, she was the gymnast.

Maybe I should have taken Zane up on the offer for alcohol in the limo.

“Two hours max,” Lyss said in a confident voice. “And then you’ll get Zane back—just make sure he has some marshmallows.”

I laughed as most of the girls walked ahead of me, leaving Dani behind.

“I love him,” Dani said in a low whisper. “Not the way I love Linc, but I do love Zane. He’s special. Do me a favor.” She placed her hand on my arm. “Don’t stay if you don’t plan on sticking around—because he doesn’t deserve that, someone who will only be here during the good times and run when things get hard. I’m done watching Zane run.”

“Good.” I pulled her in for a hug. “Me too.”

She slumped against me as a sob broke out. “I’m terrified he’s not going to be the same, and his differentness is what makes me love him.”

It was weird, comforting her when I was technically the girlfriend, the one who was attached to him in ways she couldn’t possibly imagine, but it helped me deal with my own fear and grief, knowing that I wasn’t the only one barely holding it together.

“His uniqueness is what makes him amazing,” I agreed. “And if we’re lucky he’ll just get weirder after the surgery.”

She laughed.

“Did you know he thinks cheese is stupid?”

She gaped, her mouth moving as though she wanted to speak but nothing came out.

“He’s scared of giraffes too, something about long necks?” I conveniently omitted the miniscule detail of my antelope anxiety.

And that’s how I spent the next two hours: swapping Zane stories and making plans to make him a marshmallow castle—he just had to wake up from surgery.

He just had to wake up.

Chapter Forty

Zane

A HEADACHE THAT FELT a hell of a lot like someone had run me over with a semi-truck set up camp near my temple just above my ear. The pounding was so intense I wanted to take a hammer to my head just so it would end.

“Hey there, sleepy head!” The woman hovering above me winked as my blurry vision focused in on her. “The surgery went fantastic, no hiccups, though we aren’t sure of any side effects until we keep you for the next week, alright?”

“Alright.” I answered.

“Good!” She blinked or winked. “Your speech sounds good, why don’t you tell me your name and what you do?”

“Zane Andrews,” I frowned. “And I’m…” My brain tugged at the information like I was in a fog. “Amazing?”

She burst out laughing. “Try again.”

“I sing.” My lips moved ahead before the memory could pull. “Saint.” Memories of concerts assaulted me, arriving in Seaside. “Girls throw their bras in my face, and I sign boobs for a living—I’m recording my album.” Details were still fuzzy, but they were there, I just needed to relax a bit, but something, something felt wrong.

I just wasn’t sure what.

Maybe it was the headache?

They rolled me back into an ICU recovery room and tilted the bed up so I could at least see in front of me, it was more comfortable than being on my back.

“He’s alive!” Jay made his way into the room followed by an impressive crowd of familiar faces, or at least semi-familiar. “Glad you made it, man.”

“Me too.” My voice sounded scratchy, which was probably normal since they put me under.

I still felt off.

Like something was wrong, but maybe it was because I’d evaded death? Maybe that was it?

The trip to the hospital had been emotional and…

The smile on my face fell.

How did I get to the hospital?

A car?

No, I didn’t drive.

An ambulance?

No, I’d said no to the ambulance, but why? I couldn’t remember, and every time something familiar came forward, I couldn’t grasp the memory, it floated out of reach.

Suddenly a girl burst through the crowd of people, marshmallows hanging from her hands. Tears streamed down her face. “You’re okay! Tell me you feel okay?”

“I’m okay.” I answered dumbly. “Have we met?”

The room fell silent.

Shit.

Her voice was familiar, her face was even familiar, but there was no attachment. I knew I should recognize her, I could tell it was important, she was really pretty, with big thick black-rimmed glasses and large eyes.

Her full lips pressed into a fake smile. “Um, I was guarding the marshmallows.”

It was a huge effort on her part, I could tell, not to burst into tears or maybe even slap me. Her lips pressed together into a thin line, her lower one trembling with ferocity while she clung to the marshmallow bag as though it was a lifeline.

She was important. I knew she was important, I just didn’t know why.