Page 31 of Wicked Things
FOURTEEN
ZETH
5 WEEKS AGO
“These things are impossible to predict, Sloane. You can’t blame yourself.” Oliver holds out his takeaway coffee to me, frowning as he tries to wrestle his Converse onto his left foot. “Here. Hold this a second, would you? I’m about to fall over.” He’s one of the country’s most prestigious trauma surgeons, and yet he can’t manage to change his shoes without both hands. I take his coffee, laughing under my breath.
“I just feel…” I sigh, taking a mouthful of my own coffee.
“You feel shitty because she was a child. You feel shitty because she was just a baby, really, and you know her brother. And you went to the funeral. How many times do they tell us never to go to the fucking funeral, Sloane?”
“I had to. I couldn’tnotgo.”
Oliver grunts. Converse now changed, he slings his other sneakers into his locker and then slams it closed, taking his coffee from me. “Was the brother even glad you came?”
I pull a face. “I don’t think he even knew I was there. He was…” Upset doesn’t even come close to Mason’s mental state at Millie’s funeral. Distraught? Devastated? Wrecked? A week has passed since Mase stormed out of the church after basically telling everyone seated in the pews to go fuck themselves, and I haven’t been able to forget the look of agony on his face. Poor guy. I wish I could change what happened to Millie. I wish I were a miracle worker instead of a mere mortal, trying to save as many lives as I can.
“Can’t really blame him,” Oliver says. “He’s probably really fucked in the head right now. I can only imagine.”
“Mmm.”
We make our way out of the hospital in silence, walking shoulder to shoulder. It’s raining out in the parking lot, great sheets of water slamming into the blacktop with the force of a high-pressure shower. “Fuck,” Oliver groans. We’re about to walk out into it, when a sleek black muscle rolls up to the entrance—a Camaro. One I’d know anywhere. I grin, bending at the waist to talk to Zeth through the passenger window that he winds down. “I thought you couldn’t pick me up today,” I say, grinning. I still catch myself all the time, wondering how the hell I ever ended up with a man like this. Zeth obviously got caught out in the rain before he climbed into the car. His hair, slightly longer than usual, so long and thick that it’s actually started to wave a little, is damp, almost curling at the ends. His cheeks are glowing from the cold, the end of his nose a little red, too. His jaw is marked with at least three days’ worth of stubble. And when his gaze meets mine, those dark, dark eyes of his delving deep into my soul, I feel like he has me by the throat and he’s already thrusting himself inside me.
“Couldn’t let my girl catch pneumonia now, could I?” A honeyed smile spreads lethargically across his face, and I know he has sex on his mind, too. His expression shutters when he leans forward, catching sight of Oliver. He doesn’t stop smiling, per se, but his lips seem to stiffen at the corners.
“Massey,” he says. And then, after an awkward second, he says,” Can we offer you a ride?”
Oliver looks like he’s about to drop his coffee and sprint back inside the hospital, away from the car, as if he suspects Zeth might be trying to lure him to his death. He gives me a tense, sideways glance. “Uhhh…”
“Come on,” I say. “We can drop you off. It’s not out of the way.”
My attempt at reassuring him doesn’t seem to be having the desired effect. “I don’t mind. I was going to call an Uber anyway, so…”
“Don’t be silly. Get in the car, Ol.” I open the passenger side door and pull the seat forward before he can refuse the offer further. I scoot into the back, pulling the front seat into position behind me, and Oliver has no choice but to climb in the car, slamming the door behind him. He shifts uncomfortably, fiddling with his seatbelt. Zeth squirms a little, too. I don’t think he expected Oliver to accept his offer. I sure as hell don’t think he expected him to have to sit next to him in the front.
“Thanks,” Oliver says, smiling tightly. I can see the look of pure terror on his face in the rear view, and I have to stifle a laugh. Not really fair to Oliver. I may not be scared of Zeth, but I’m probably one of three people in the world who aren’t. Everyone else is severely intimidated by him, and with good reason. He’s the epitome of danger. It feels fucking amazing that Zeth would try and be kind to Oliver, though, even if it doesn’t come easily to him. It means so much more to mebecauseof that very fact.
“So,” Zeth says stiffly. “How was your shift?”
Oliver just turns and looks at him, stunned into silence.
“Long,” I answer. “Tiring. I can’t wait to sink into the bathtub with a glass of wine. Oliver had a really interesting case today, didn’t you? Tell Zeth about the guy who came in with the giant tumor on his neck.”
Oliver swallows thickly. “Yeah…he…had a giant tumor on his neck.”
Zeth arches an eyebrow, obviously waiting for more. Oliver just blinks. He faces forward again, staring straight ahead out of the windshield.
“Ooookaaaay,” Zeth says.
Thankfully Oliver doesn’t live too far from the hospital. Ten frustratingly slow minutes tick by, and then Oliver points out which apartment building is his. He has the car door open before Zeth has even stopped next to the curb. “Thanks for the ride,” he says, as he scrambles out of the car. “I’ll see you next shift, Romera.” He dashes for his building, dodging raindrops, stepping in puddles in his haste to flee from the vehicle.
Zeth clears his throat, and then turns in his seat to look at me. “I think he just shit himself.”
“I think you’re right. Hold on, I’ll get in the front.”
“I don’t think so,Romera. Being civil to your work colleague just cost me big time. I’m gonna need something from you in return.”
“Oh?”His voice has an edge to it that I recognize all too well, laden with the promise of sex. I press my legs together without thinking, my clit throbbing at the mere suggestion of rewarding his good behavior.
