Page 6 of The Silent Note

Sorry I keep lying to you, mom. But the less you know, the better.

My strategy is flawed, I’m well aware. I can’t distract mom from the truth forever but, currently, I have no plans to enlighten her about how dangerous my life has become.

A shadow outside my hospital room catches my attention.

Instinctively, I edge back in the hospital cot.

After Jarod Cross set me up to expose Principal Harris, the entire world felt like it was filled with boogeymen. I jumped at shadows, bristled at the nurse’s footsteps during their nightly rounds and refused to use the bathroom alone. I also hadnightmares about the person behind the accident coming back to finish the job.

Being on hyper alert means it’s almost impossible to get a goodnight’s sleep. I look awful.

Which is why, when the door opens and Zane strides in, taking up too much space with his incredible height and bulky leather jacket, my first instinct is to hide my face under my blanket.

I feel myself pulling on the sheet before I remember that Zane is eighteen, my student, my step-brother and…

Actually, there’s no need for anotherand.

All those reasons mean I should not be concerned with whether I look pretty in front of him.

I drop the sheet and cross my arms over my chest instead.

Zane walks through the door and stops right beside my bed. As he stands there, my gaze meanders from his inky-black hair to his sea-blue eyes, and down to the sling supporting his wrist.

An undeniable concern takes over me and I can’t tell if it’s from a personal or a professional interest. Does his wrist still hurt? Is he taking his pain meds? Has he finally accepted that he won’t be able to play drums again?

Looking at him now, something tells me he hasn’t admitted defeat and probably never will.

Zane says nothing as he openly studies the scar on my face. I’m self-conscious about the stitches and the ugly gash they’ll leave behind, but I refuse to touch my temple and let him know that his inspection bothers me.

It doesn’t.

I won’t let it.

“What are you doing here?”

“Grey,” Zane whispers my name like a fallen angel in prayer.

Slowly, he reaches out and brushes his fingers across my face, tracing under my scar.

For a second, I’m breathless, flushed, and warm.

And then I remember who I am.

Who he is.

And I scowl, pulling my head away. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Neither should you.” His lips finally twitch up in that signature, devil-may-care smirk and the knot in my chest gets lighter, until it’s floating, pulling me towards him.

But I don’t float or lean forward.

I stay right where I am in the hospital bed. Where it’s safe.

A buzzing sound fills the air.

Zane checks his phone and then glances at me. “There’s somewhere we need to be.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

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