CHAPTER 9
ZANE
PAST
Charlie’s been talking about visiting the lab in Austin. I refused. I’m barely used to being in Dallas, which is already a stretch for me. But still, I’m going along with what she asked, and Laura Murray agreed to meet me here.
We’ve been working on the project for a while now, but she barely acknowledges me beyond what’s necessary for the project. It’s like I’m invisible to her, except when it comes to those specific details. Honestly? I’m pretty sure she hates me.
The TSOC lab is sleek, quiet, cool—and not just in temperature. Everything gleams. Brushed steel countertops, black glass panels, drawers organized with surgical precision. Every bottle labeled in font so clean it probably has a moral compass. The air smells faintly of ozone, fresh coffee, and something metallic—like blood, or maybe anticipation. It’s the kind of place built for absolute control—or for someone who can’t function without it.
Laura sits beside me, a tablet balanced effortlessly on her lap, eyes scanning the circuit I’m building like she’s watching a heart monitor.
“You’re good,” she says, voice steady like a data readout.
“Hmm. Thanks.”
“I’m serious.” She turns her head, finally looking at me. “And not because we’re family now. If that were the case, I’d have stayed silent.”
“Family, huh,” I mutter, adjusting the ignition wires. “Funny. Thought you hated me.”
She exhales, tucking her hair behind her ear with robotic precision. “I don’t hate you. I’m not Seth. I’m analytical. I don’t waste time hating people without a reason. You’re... interesting.” A pause. Her tone shifts slightly. “And so far, you haven’t given me a reason to tear you down.”
“Relief.” I give her a sideways smile. “Nice to know I’m not on your list.”
“It’s a short list. But it exists.” Her gaze lingers. “You want to make Mia happy, don’t you?”
“More than anything.”
“Then don’t run when the system fails. Fixing it takes presence, not perfection. And maybe stop being so hard on yourself. Mia could domesticate a giant troll if she wanted—she’s not exactly high-maintenance.”
That sentence hits harder than I expect. Maybe because it’s coming from her—logical, precise—but not indifferent.
“You care about her,” I say quietly.
“More than I let on,” she admits. “But that’s beside the point.” She stands, tucks the tablet under her arm. “You and I... we may never be close. But we’re part of the same experiment now. It runs smoother if there’s mutual respect.”
Before I can answer, her eyes flick to the door. Someone’s coming.
Laura half-smiles, just one corner of her mouth curving. “Time for an emotional break,” she mutters. “Want me to stay and supervise the meltdown?”
“I’d rather not,” I say.
She nods, understanding immediately.
Carter walks in like the storm he’s always been—controlled, polished, but never truly calm. His clothes are dark, his shoes clean. He looks more put together than usual, but there’s tension in his shoulders, in the way his eyes avoid mine at first. In moments like this, I see the similarity between him and Lara—he wears restraint like armor.
Maybe I was a jerk about his feelings. I can admit that. But I don’t regret protecting Mia. I’ll always choose her.
Laura glances at him, pauses beside him on her way out.
“Be honest,” she says to me. “Otherwise, it’s not worth it.”
Then she walks out with that calm, methodical elegance of someone who knows how to give space—and exactly when to reclaim it.
Carter exhales softly, stepping up to the lab bench like it’s a witness stand.
“I was hoping we could talk,” he says.
I don’t look up from the circuit.
“I figured the unanswered texts were answer enough.”
He lets out that quiet, tired breath of someone who rehearsed a speech knowing it’d still crash and burn.
“Come on, Zane... I know I was a fucking asshole. But you cutting me off like that? You’re in denial if you think we’re not friends.”
I put down the tools. Finally look at him. Hard.
“So tell me, Carter. What kind of friend tries to control my goddamn life?”
He flinches. Doesn’t even try to deflect. Just runs a hand down his face, like he could scrub the guilt off.
“I know you’re not one to dwell on the past. Our friendship was never about that. We just... showed up for each other.”
“I showed up for you,” I say, low but sharp. “You showed up hoping to win something. And when you didn’t, you got bitter.”
Silence.
“I get it. Fuck.” His voice cracks a little. The first crack in the facade. “I know you love her, okay? I get that now.”
“Good.”
“I don’t want to lose your friendship.”
“That depends.” I cross my arms. “Are you still going to be a dick to Mia?”
“No. I’ll apologize. In person. She’s next on my list of people I actually owe something real to.”
“You’ve been on a streak of screwing up lately.”
He laughs bitterly, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, no shit. So... can we just chill? Be friends. Partners again.”
“Like I said. Treat Mia right, and we’re good.”
He hesitates. Then mutters, “She reminds me of Elise.”
The words hang in the air like smoke. I freeze. Carter never talks about his sister. Elise was sacred ground—untouched, unspoken. One of the few silences we never broke.
I swallow hard.
“I got angry because... of course she’d win your heart. Elise would’ve, too. And that hurt. It made me bitter.”
My chest tightens. I know what this costs him to say.
“Grief’s a bitch,” I say. “Shows up however it wants.”
“Yeah... maybe.” He looks away. “But when I look at Mia, it’s not the same. Just... part of Elise feels alive again.”
“She has that effect,” I murmur.
Another silence. But not a heavy one. Just... honest.
“Are we okay?” he asks.
I give a slight nod. “Yeah, bro. We’re good.”
He lets out a breath, gives a half-smile, and pulls up a chair beside me. Not like a rival. Not like a project.
Just like a friend.
One who, somehow, still made it back.