“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.
Hands trembling, she handed over the bag of marshmallows to me and then excused herself from the room.
Linc ran after her.
And the rest of the group stared at me like I was a complete stranger.
“How far back do you remember?” Demetri asked in a sober voice.
I frowned. “I don’t remember getting here, I mean I remember parts, but everything’s spotty. I recorded with you guys, a few weeks back and have been holed up in the house ever since.” My body rejected that falsity. “Or wait, that’s not right. I recorded a few kick ass songs, I remember nearly killing a piano in the process.”
Demetri’s face was tight. “What’s the date man?”
I shrugged. “March twentieth.”
Alec mumbled a curse and responded. “That was over four weeks ago.”
Most of the faces that stared at me were familiar, one of them in particular, an older gentleman held a woman’s hand, they seemed so nice, I wanted to talk to them, I wanted to hug the guy for some reason. I hated that I didn’t know why.
“I should know you, too.” I directed it at them. “Shouldn’t I?”
“Pretty sure all he needs to do is clean a gun in front of you and synapses will start firing,” Demetri said in a teasing tone.
“And the girl?” My voice shook, “The one who ran out of here?”
Jay’s eyes locked on mine. “You love her.”
“What?” My heart swelled, and my next breath stalled. “What do you mean?”
“She’s your girlfriend, son.” The man spoke with an easy smile. “But this here is a lot to take in after surgery, why don’t you rest a bit? We’ll all get some food and come back.”
“Okay,” I whispered, hating myself for letting them down, for having nothing but fuzzy gray areas where the last four weeks should have been.
“It’s going to be fine.” Jay slapped me on the shoulder. “Eat a marshmallow.”
Hah, my stupid answer to everything, at least that was still the same.
When they left, the headache worsened, I gripped the bag of marshmallows like a lifeline, then opened them, in desperate need to calm the hell down.
When I poured them out, a note fluttered onto my lap.
To Zane: From Zane
I knew you’d go here first. We are so freaking predictable. Look, the doc and I had a long talk while Fallon was in the bathroom. She was worried that I’d have some memory loss after the surgery. The good news, it’s probably short term, it should heal itself, it’s mainly just from the trauma, which is great.
But it’s going to hurt her.
You’re going to hurt h
er without realizing it.
Unless I’m an ass, and you’re totally fine right now, so if I’m an ass go screw your girlfriend and slap yourself on the back for being a modern day superhero, but if not, I kind of made a little fail safe.
I stored as many pictures as I could of us with Fallon. I want you to know how great she is, because here’s the thing—even if she’s a stranger to you now—she won’t be for long. Girls like Fallon are impossible not to fall in love with, and you’re a lucky bastard if you get to do it twice. Because that’s the thing, Zane, man, we love her, we love her so much.
She knows about the foster care.
About grandma.
The marshmallows.
Hell, I confessed I hated cake and look she stuck around!
The point is this, I figured you may need a story. Listen to the songs on your album, they’re here, every damn one.
Look at the pictures.
Embrace life, because you’ve been given a second chance with a very special person, one who wants to keep you.
Forever.
But you have to want her back—and right now, she’s probably hurting, so your job, your mission if you choose to accept it: be the Zane women fall in love with while singing on stage, be the guy that chases after the girl. Be the guy that Fallon deserves.
Kiss her.
Love her.
Let her help you remember.
Because the love she has for you? There’s no chance in hell it’s so weak that a simple cut into your brain would remove it.
Go.
Try not to be a jackass.
Oh and by the way? That girl stole your virginity—you offered it to her, the same night, she gave you her heart. Tread lightly—hearts are breakable.
From, Zane (pre-surgery)
Chapter Forty-One
Zane
WITH SHAKING FINGERS, I folded the note up and greedily searched around for my phone. My stuff was in the corner, neatly folded, my phone had to be there.
“Come on Zane, you can do this, just a few steps.” My legs slid over the side of the bed while nausea tossed my stomach in circles.
Five feet.
I could go five feet. Right?
I pushed up onto two very wobbly legs. My body felt so weak it was ridiculous. Two steps felt like a freaking marathon, and I wasn’t even all the way there yet.
Three steps and sweat was pooling in the palms of my hands.
Almost there.
Two more steps and I leaned against the chair ruffling through my clothes until my hand came into contact with a cold object.
Another note was attached to the phone.
Good job you bad ass, you took your first steps! No, but seriously, I’m glad you made it. The other side effect is learning how to walk again. Your headphones are in the back left pocket of your jeans. The tracks from the last few recording sessions are under the usual session folder in your music. Just a suggestion, but maybe look through the pictures named Fallon while you listen, it could help. Every little bit helps.
I had to give myself credit.
I’d been prepared.
And if memory served right, I’d only been given a few hours.
I froze.
Two hours?
The headache.
My head started to pound all over again.
I was recording at the studio.
The news had upset me—why was I upset about the news?
“Baby steps,” I muttered to myself as I slowly shuffled back to the bed, pulled on the blankets and shoved my headphones into my ears.
I clicked on the first track and scrolled over to my photos.
The minute the first song started playing, chills erupted up and down my arms.
“I need you to tell me I’m worth it. I need you to tell me that when you walk away, it’s because you want me to beg you to stay. Be my addiction—it’s always my aim—to make them fall at my feet—to make them beg. Until you, I wanted it all—but had no idea of what it meant—until you.
Say it now.
Say it once.
Say it twice.
When you say it, you better mean it.
Hearts can’t break twice.
Hearts can’t break twice.”
The music swelled, calming my headache down as the pictures of Fallon and me flooded the screen. A lot of the pictures were at the house or on the beach and every single time I had my guitar with me or a pen and paper.
A few of the pictures had been taken at sunset.
She was looking out at the waves.
Playing with the sand, her hair whipping wildly around her face.
Another one she didn’t have glasses on.
No glasses.
And a really short dress.
It was dusk.
“Take me home,” she’d whispered.
“You’re my home.” My own voice floated around in my head as the song ended.
The very next song was about home.
The third one was an angry ballad about fighting.
The fourth—the fourth was about sex.
Damn. I’d slept with a girl—the only girl—and I somehow couldn’t conjure up the memory? Seriously? Maybe if I just propositioned her again. Right, I’m sure that would go over well. “Hey, I don’t remember you but will you take off your shirt? I think staring at you naked may jolt my memories.”
I groaned and then nearly dropped my phone as the pictures shifted into something much more private.
Fallon sleeping.
In nothing but a sheet.
A selfie of both of us in bed drinking coffee.
My guitar lying next to her naked thigh as the blanket curved around her hips just barely covering her nakedness.
I gaped like a teenager.
She was gorgeous.
The next photo was a video.
I turned off the music and pressed play.
“Fallon, Fallon, wake up.” I plucked a few chords from my guitar and chuckled while she moaned in her sleep. “Fallon, don’t you want to play?”
“Go away,” she grumbled, throwing a hand in my general direction. I set the guitar down and held the phone closer to her face.
“You’re beautiful.”
“You’re just after more sex.” She yawned and refused to open her eyes.
I backed away and whispered into the phone. “I think I could love this girl.”
The video ended.
Another picture of Fallon and me kissing in a hotel room that looked familiar.
I went back to the pictures of us in bed.
Just as a hand waved in front of my face.
“Shit!” I fumbled to turn the phone over and jerked off my headphones. “The hell! You scared me!”
Jay’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you looking at tits? Be honest, man, I won’t judge.”
“No!” My face heated like I really had been looking at porn or something, and I rubbed my eyes. “Just…pictures, trying to jolt my memory.”
“She wants to see you.”
My head nearly came off my body as I jerked to attention. “Fallon?”
“No. The queen.” Jay said in a dry tone. “Yes, Fallon, the girlfriend and marshmallow hater.”
“She hates marshmallows?”
“Holy shit, you should have seen your face. It’s not like she drowns puppies, man, and no, she doesn’t hate marshmallows.”
I let out a loud exhale. “Why isn’t she familiar?”
“She will be. The doctor said this is normal, and in a few days we’ll all laugh about this.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Good news!” His smile was bright. “You should make a full recovery, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Chin up, mate.” Jay winked. “There are worse things than having a pretty girl waiting to take away your virginity again.”
I closed my eyes. “I can’t deal with you right now.”
“You’ve never been able to deal with me. Why should now be any
different?”
“Go.”
“Have fun.” Jay waltzed out of the room.
Meanwhile, my palms were sweaty, my body was itchy, and I was suddenly very aware that I probably smelled like surgery and sweat and hospital.
The hell? We were already together, right? So she had to love me the way I was.
But I would do anything for a shower and cologne. I’d probably murder Jay just so I could brush my teeth.
“Hey.” Fallon breezed in the door, her face bright and happy like she wasn’t depressed that the first words out of my mouth had been. “Do I know you?”
Auburn hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and her glasses were perched on her nose, they made her look adorable, pretty and smart. She looked like all of those things, things I knew that I would be attracted to.
But how?
“How did we meet?” I blurted.
She stopped walking, her gaze dropping to the ground before meeting mine again. I thought I’d upset her until I noticed it wasn’t anger but embarrassment.
With a chuckle, I patted my bedside. “I have a feeling I’m going to love this story.”
“Why!” Fallon looked up and threw her hands in the air. “Once was enough. Being embarrassed in front of you is kind of my thing.”
“Is it?”
“I’m really good at it, might make it my new profession.” Her red face was cute as hell, I wanted to touch her, cup her chin, taste her lips. She sat on my bed, careful not to touch any part of my body, and hugged herself. “My best friend is a lunatic, not fit for normal society. The first time I met you was her fault. The second time, she pushed me off the boardwalk, so you had no choice but to rescue me.”
“I sound like a hero,” I teased.
A light laugh escaped her lips. “Not exactly. More like, you saw a chance to get out of the house.”
“Huh?”
“Writers block. Anxiety. Screaming girls. You were all holed up in the house and used me as a tour guide.”
“I did?” That surprised me a bit; I must have been really interested to go that far.
“Yeah you totally paid me a million dollars and promised a new Ferrari if your first single hits number one.” Her face was stone cold, “But I declined out of the goodness of my heart.”