CHAPTER 8
MIA
I chose a picnic precisely because it allows me to escape—somewhere far from everything and everyone. Somewhere beyond my brother’s line of sight.
Liv: Are you okay, honeypie?
Me: Better than ever. You?
Liv: I’d be better if I hadn’t married the male version of Regina George from Mean Girls.
I laugh, but before I can respond, my phone is snatched from my hand.
“Hey!” I protest, but Zane just rolls his eyes.
“You’re the one who insisted on driving,” he says flatly. “Now pay attention. I don’t want to die.”
“We won’t, because I’m an amazing driver,” I say, as if that settles it.
“Says the girl texting while driving.”
“You’ve been so grumpy lately,” I grumble. “I read somewhere that sleeping with someone else helps.”
“You’re suggesting I find a girl to fuck?”
"Only if you want me to kill you both—but not before I feed her your balls."
He snorts. “So, when you were coming up with your grand plan— Let’s ditch Zane, blah blah blah, I can’t be with him —it never crossed your mind that I might find someone else?”
“I planned to kill everyone but the dog,” I retort. “I’d leave your dog alone.”
Zane chuckles, shaking his head. “What a healthy approach.”
“Sorry, they didn’t teach emotional intelligence in the basement where I was raised.”
His amusement fades. “Mia.”
“What?”
“Are you always going to joke about what you went through?”
“What else is there to do? Curl up in a corner and cry? Been there, didn’t love it.”
He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “You’re a weird girl.”
“And you’re repetitive, Mr. Parrot.”
I stop the car in the middle of a park—not too far from our cabin, but far enough that no one will recognize us.
Zane eyes the picnic basket with suspicion, rummaging through its contents like he’s searching for a hidden trap.
“You didn’t pack waffles. That’s a miracle.”
I cross my arms, deeply offended. “First of all, Mr. Grumpy, waffles don’t go with a picnic. Second, I did vary the menu. We have sandwiches, fruit, cheese, and—”
Zane holds up a jar, frowning. “Is this… Nutella?”
“The best accompaniment to any meal,” I declare, snatching the jar from his hands and holding it up like a trophy. “I was considering just bringing this and a spoon, but I figured you’d complain.”
He sighs, dropping onto the checkered blanket. “I always complain.”
“Yes, but this time, I’m being benevolent and giving you something to distract yourself with.”
He arches a brow. “From the fact that I’m still mad at you?”
I clap my hands together and beam. “Exactly! And what better way to forget your anger and remember that you like me than food and a nice view?”
Zane snorts, but the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile. Victory. Partial, but still.
The afternoon melts into stolen snacks, playful bickering, and the occasional swat when Zane insists on stealing my cheese. It’s progress—considering that earlier, he looked like he wanted to bury me alive.
The sky shifts as the sun dips lower, the brilliant blue dissolving into streaks of orange and pink before deepening into twilight. I stretch out on the blanket, letting the cool breeze kiss my skin as the first stars flicker to life.
“Have you ever noticed how the sky looks bigger when you’re away from the city?” I muse, feeling the weight of the quiet settling between us.
Zane lies beside me, arms tucked behind his head. “Less light getting in the way.”
I turn toward him with a mischievous smile. “You like Spirited Away , don’t you?”
I ask even though I already know the answer—because back when we lived together, I caught him watching it once, then pretending he wasn’t crying even though he totally was. I got curious, so I watched it too.
His eyes narrow in suspicion. “Why are you asking?”
“Because.” I fling my arms toward the vast, star-speckled sky. “This. That feeling that you could get lost and find something magical at the same time.”
He doesn’t respond, but I know he gets it. I know because the day I caught him watching the movie alone, he was too absorbed in the train scene to notice me.
“The train,” I murmur. “That’s your favorite part, isn’t it?”
Zane’s eyes flutter shut for a moment before he finally admits, voice low, “Yeah.”
Something shifts between us. It’s no longer about teasing or irritation—it’s deeper, like we’re stepping into a space we haven’t touched in a long time.
I roll onto my side, propping my head on my hand. “I always thought that scene was about accepting that some things have to go. The train only moves forward—Chihiro can’t turn back.”
Zane is silent for a long time. Then, finally, he says, “Yeah.”
He keeps his gaze on the sky, but I see the faint tension in his jaw before he speaks again. “Or maybe it’s about moving forward, even when you don’t know where you’re going.”
Something tightens in my chest, but I smile. “Maybe. But if I were on that train, I’d probably try to pull the brakes.”
Zane huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “That doesn’t surprise me at all.”
"You should try it too," I murmur. He gives me a confused look, but I don't elaborate.
The silence that follows is heavy but not uncomfortable. The stars seem to breathe with us. I hesitate, feeling like I’m treading on thin ice—but I ask anyway.
“Why do you run from your family so much? I mean… your mom’s gone now. There’s no reason not to see them anymore.”
I brace for something sharp, something defensive—Zane always protects himself with thorns. But he just sighs, still staring at the sky like he’s searching for answers among the constellations.
“Because I’m afraid.”
The simplicity of the confession knocks the air from my lungs.
“Afraid?” My voice is barely above a whisper. “Of what?”
He takes his time answering. When he does, it’s so quiet it nearly dissolves into the wind.
“Of being so broken I don’t know how to be with them anymore.”
Something in my chest twists.
Without thinking, I move closer. Because that’s what I do. Because Zane moves away, and I can’t help but close the distance.
“I don’t think they care,” I murmur.
He turns his head slightly, brow furrowing. “Huh?”
“I don’t think they care what version of you they get.” I bite my lip, searching for the right words. “I get the feeling they just want you .”
He doesn’t answer, his eyes distant, his thoughts somewhere I can’t follow.
“Maybe you’re right,” he says at last. But it isn’t a statement. It’s just a thought, floating in the space between us—one he isn’t ready to hold onto yet.
I swallow the lump in my throat and shift onto my elbow, watching him through the dim glow of twilight.
“Then promise me something.”
His eyes sharpen, wary. “What?”
"If we make it out of this... you'll try."
"Try?"
"To pull the brakes," I clarify, and he gives me a faint smile.
He could deflect. He could joke, brush it off like he always does when things get too personal. But this time, he just looks at me. A long, searching look, like he sees something in me even I don’t understand.
Then, finally, he exhales.
“I promise.”
Warmth spreads through my chest, and before I can stop it, I grin. “See? You can do it.” I nudge his arm.
He rolls his eyes, but there’s still a ghost of a smile—small, almost imperceptible.
On impulse, I climb on top of him. His eyes widen, his whole body tensing beneath me.
A shiver cuts through me—sharp, electric—but I shove it down. I’m not here for the way he looks at me. I’m here for control.
Then, without warning, I twist—grabbing his wrist, hooking my leg—and roll us hard.
The world flips.
His weight crashes over me, palms braced on either side of my head.
His breath hitches. So does mine.
“You’re a lame-ass fighter. You need to stay on alert,” I tease, my voice deliberately light.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, but the way his voice dips—low, rough, barely restrained—sends heat curling through my spine.
“It’s not too late to tell my father you mysteriously disappeared,” I say sweetly. “Then we can move you to the North Pole.”
Zane scoffs. “Are you coming with me?”
I hesitate. “We’ve had this conversation.”
I don’t belong where Zane belongs. And I don’t want to spend my life running.
The moment my father realizes how much Zane means to me, he’ll take him away—just like he’s taken everything else.
“For someone who was obsessed with me,” Zane drawls, “you’ve clearly changed. Who’s running now?”
I force a shrug. “What can I say? I got bored.”
He hums, amused. “So that’s why you killed my friend? To make a point about divorce?”
“Maybe,” I say, smiling. But it’s fake. I didn’t want him dead.
His hand closes around my wrist, pulling me down until our faces are inches apart. His gaze flickers over mine, unreadable, but his touch is anything but indifferent.
My body stills, every nerve on edge, aching for something I shouldn’t want.
I missed him. God, Mia , react.
“You should remind your body to get bored, too,” he murmurs with dark amusement. “My sweet chaos.”
I swallow hard. “Let me go.”
He does. We both stand. But the smug smirk remains.
So I bend down and trip him.
Zane grunts as he lands flat on his back, blinking up at me in stunned disbelief.
“Someone’s distracted,” I say in a singsong tone, hands on my hips.
He snorts, rubbing his face before exhaling heavily, like he’s finally—
“You just pinned me down in the middle of a picnic.”
“Yes!” I grin. “And it was beautiful .”
He lets out a dry laugh, still staring at the sky like he’s reconsidering all his life choices.
“I should’ve left you at the North Pole.”
“You’d never leave me at the North Pole.”
“Oh, no?” He props himself up on his elbows, arching a brow. “Why not?”
“Because you love me.”
He freezes.
The air between us tightens, the words hanging there like a live wire. My pulse stutters, and I almost— almost —take it back. Instead, I look away, scrambling to cover my slip. “And because you wouldn’t survive without my energy boost, obviously.”
His lips twitch. “Your ego is insufferable.”
Good. He ignored my lame statement—I didn’t mean to imply that he loved me.
It’s just so easy to believe it when I’m with him, when his eyes linger a second too long, when his touch sends a warmth through me that feels like something more.
Like something real.
“My ego is natural charm .”
Before I can savor my victory, he moves—grabbing my ankle and yanking me down in one smooth motion.
A second later, I’m flat on my back, eyes wide.
“Zane!”
He smirks, propping himself up on his elbow, his head resting on his hand. “You were saying?”
I roll my eyes, but I’m laughing. “Okay, okay. You win this one.”
“Finally.”
Neither of us move. His weight above me, his beautiful green eyes locked onto mine—it makes me hyper-aware of everything. The warmth of his body, the way his breath fans across my skin.
I can’t help but wonder what it was like before. What it would be like now.
And how much I want it back.
My fingers itch to slide through his hair, to pull him closer.
I want him to fuck me so good that I’ll be sore for days.
I miss us.
My breathing turns uneven again, and I feel the hard press of his cock through my dress. Instinctively, I shift against him. A quiet, tortured sound escapes his throat.
“Fuck, Mia,” he murmurs, his fingers threading into my hair, his mouth hovering over mine like a silent dare.
I need to move, or we’re going to do something here—something physical, and it’s definitely not fighting.
“We can still fight under the stars!” I exclaim, scrambling to my feet.
He stares at me, still on the ground, his expression a mix of exhaustion and confusion.
“Mia, you’re wearing a flowery dress.”
“So?”
“So, I’m not fighting someone who looks like they walked out of an indie romance movie.”
“Are you scared of losing to someone in a dress?”
He exhales heavily. “Yes.”
“Pussy.”
“Brat.”
I take advantage of his distraction, lunging at him. He moves to dodge, but I’m already on him again, using every ounce of speed I have to knock him off balance.
He curses but moves fluidly, his body reacting on instinct.
“You really want to do this now?”
“Yes!” I grin. “You told me you needed to learn how to fight, didn’t you?”
“Alright.”
And this time, he doesn’t hold back.
He moves fast—too fast. Before I can react, I’m flipped onto my back, pinned beneath him, my wrists trapped in his grip.
My body thrums with adrenaline, but it’s not just from the fight. It’s him. His weight pressing into me. The dark glint in his eyes. The way he shifts just enough for me to feel—
“I can feel how wet you are for me,” he murmurs, his voice relaxed, but his grip tightens just slightly.
I inhale sharply.
“Are you going to do something about it?” I whisper.
He hums in amusement, lowering his lips to my ear. “Maybe you deserve the punishment of walking around with soaked panties, knowing I’m the only one who can satisfy you.”
His words send an electric current through me, making my body tremble.
“Maybe I like the way you feel too much to hold back." His voice is low, rough with restraint, but his hands tell a different story. He drags his fingertips along my collarbone, slow and deliberate, before trailing lower, skimming the edge of my dress.
When he reaches my thigh, his touch turns teasing—lazy circles, featherlight, just enough to make me shiver. His fingers press in slightly, a silent promise, a threat of something deeper, something that will leave my pulse frantic and my legs weak.
"You're all cute and chatty, aren't you?" His voice is a murmur against my skin, warm and teasing. His lips move slowly, deliberately, tracing a path down my collarbone, lingering just enough to make me shudder. Then lower—his mouth ghosting over my ribs, my stomach, leaving heat in its wake. By the time he reaches the edge of my panties, his breath is hot against my skin, maddeningly close yet just far enough to make me squirm. His fingers follow, skimming over the fabric, barely touching, just enough to make me ache for more. “But I know how to shut you up, Mia. The thing is—I don’t want to. I like you loud. Preferably when it’s my name on your lips. Or when you tell me exactly how much and how you like to be fucked.”
Heat floods my cheeks, matching the throbbing between my legs.
“Zane,” I plead, shifting beneath him.
He smirks. “Do you want me?”
“Yes,” I murmur, breathless.
“Then tell me the whole truth.”
He releases me and stands, leaving me cold, empty.
I blink up at him, my pulse still racing.
“I’ll wait in the car,” he says, turning away before I can even process what just happened.
I groan, dropping my head back in frustration.