12. Zane
12
ZANE
“Does it hurt?” I touch the tiny scar on Violet’s forehead. Doc Jensen did good work—in a few months, you’ll barely see it.
“Nope!” She bounces on her toes, ice cream dripping down her cone. “Can we build the star-watching fort now?”
Two weeks since that night hospital run, and she’s already plotting her next adventure. The kid’s got more guts than sense. Reminds me of someone.
“First, show me what you’ve got for your homework.” I settle at their kitchen table while she runs for her backpack.
Violet returns with an armload of papers and glitter. “Look! I drew my family!”
“That for your class?” I examine her drawings. The kid’s got talent.
“Uh-huh. Miss Anna says we have to draw our favorite people.”
“Which is why”—Daisy appears with her own notebook—“I’m helping her write everyone’s names under the pictures.”
I hide my grin. Trust Daisy to turn her sister’s art project into a writing lesson.
“Show me your plans.”
For the next hour, I help Violet practice writing names while Daisy works on her math homework.
Violet wants to use glitter for all the letters. Daisy insists on showing her the proper way to write each one.
“Can I make them purple?”
“Only if you finish your whole alphabet first.” Evie sets fresh cookies on the table.
“Deal?”
“Deal!” both girls chorus.
As I watch them, something in my chest aches. My own childhood memories involve broken promises and empty chairs at dinner. This—homework, cookies, and casual touches—feels like something from someone else’s life.
“Uncle Zane?” Violet tugs my sleeve. “Will you help me practice how to draw better?”
“After dinner,” Evie says firmly. “Go wash up, both of you.”
When they’re gone, she touches my shoulder. “Thank you. For being here these past weeks.”
“Nowhere else I’d rather be.” Too honest, maybe. But true.
Her hand lingers. Neither of us mentions how close we’re standing or how easy it would be to…
Footsteps thunder down the stairs, and the moment is broken.
Dinner is chaos—the good kind. Violet makes shapes with her peas. Daisy explains how she learned to count by twos in class today.
“Can we build the fort this weekend?” Violet asks around a mouthful of chicken.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” But Evie’s smiling. “And only if your uncle isn’t busy.”
Uncle.
“I’m all yours.” I catch Evie’s eye. “For the building, I mean.”
Pink touches her cheeks. Yeah, she caught my meaning.
After dinner, the girls spread their homework across the living room floor. I help Violet write her letters while Daisy reads from her new book.
“That’s not how you make an S,” Daisy corrects.
“But it looks prettier this way!”
“Writing isn’t about pretty…”
I listen to them bicker, remembering similar arguments with my brothers. But we fought over motorcycles and territory while these girls fight over penmanship.
“Uncle Zane has to read my story!” Violet declares. “He does the best space alien voices.”
Upstairs, Violet’s room looks like NASA exploded. Star charts cover her walls, replacing the princess posters from last month. The kid changes passions like most people change clothes.
“This one.” She hands me a worn book about a princess who builds rocket ships. “The funny part where she meets the Martians.”
I settle in the too-small chair beside her bed while Evie handles Daisy’s more advanced chapter book next door. Through the wall, I hear them discussing space travel velocities.
“Uncle Zane?” Violet is almost asleep when I finish. “You’ll really help build the star fort?”
“Promise.” I tuck her blanket tighter. “No more trees, though, okay? Nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“Kay.” She yawns. “Love you.”
The words hit like a punch to the gut. Simple, honest—the way only kids can be. Before I can process it, she’s asleep.
Downstairs, Evie’s gathering project debris.
“Want help?” I start collecting stray glitter. Stuff gets everywhere, like evidence of magic.
“You’ve helped enough.” But she doesn’t move away when I step closer. “These past weeks, with Violet’s accident and everything…”
“Evie.”
She turns, and suddenly there’s no space between us. No more pretending this is just about being neighborly or doing right by the girls.
The first kiss is gentle. Her lips part with a soft sigh that drives me crazy. When she presses closer, gripping my shirt, all pretense of gentleness evaporates.
I walk her backward until she hits the couch. She pulls me down with her, eager and wanting. My hands find the curve of her breast under her shirt while she works at my belt.
“The girls?—”
“Sound sleepers.” She arches as I kiss down her neck. “Fuck, Zane.”
Clothes disappear between kisses. She’s gorgeous in this form—hair wild, skin flushed. The tattoos I’ve glimpsed peek out from her bra, begging to be traced.
When I slide into her, she’s already slick and ready. The feeling of her tight heat around my cock makes us both curse. I have to pause, overwhelmed by how perfectly she takes me.
“Move,” she demands, nails digging into my shoulders. “I need you deeper.”
I start slow, savoring each thrust, watching her face as I fill her completely. Her pussy clenches around me when I hit that spot that makes her gasp. The sounds she makes drive me wild—little moans she tries to muffle against my neck.
“Let me hear you,” I growl, picking up pace. Each stroke goes deeper, harder. Her legs wrap around my waist, changing the angle until I’m hitting perfectly inside her.
“Right there,” she pants, meeting every thrust. “God, Zane, just like that.”
The couch protests beneath us, but I can’t stop, can’t slow down. She feels too good and moves too perfectly with me. When I slide my hand between us to circle her clit, she arches like she’s been shocked.
“Close,” she whimpers. “So close.”
I work her clit faster, feeling her walls start to pulse around my cock. Her whole body tenses, then she’s coming hard, crying out my name as her pussy grips me like a vise.
The sight of her coming undone pulls my orgasm from me. I bury myself deep as I fill her, groaning her name into her neck. Her hands stroke my back as we both shudder through aftershocks.
“Stay inside me,” she whispers, legs still locked around my waist. “Just for a minute.”
I obey her, breathing in her scent, feeling her heart race against mine. When I finally slip out of her, she makes a small sound of loss that has my cock twitching again.
Reality returns slowly. Understanding hits—this is what my brothers meant. Not just sex, not just attraction. Something more.
“Stay?” She traces patterns on my chest.
We eventually make it to her bedroom. Round two is slower and sweeter, and we feel like we have all the time in the world.
Later, curled in her bed, I watch her sleep.
From her window, I can see Chase’s room. The same window they’ve watched her through. Now I understand why. She’s magic—not the glitter kind that covers my jeans, but the real kind. The type that takes broken pieces and makes them whole.
Evie stirs beside me. “I can hear your thoughts.”
“Just thinking about home.”
She tenses slightly. “Zane?—”
“Shh.” I pull her closer. “No pressure. Just…”
“Just?”
“Just glad I’m here.”
I find my brothers in the kitchen the next morning. Chase is sketching while Rick reviews paperwork—her paperwork, I realize. Her employment forms.
“August fifteenth,” Rick says without looking up. “Next week.”
“What?”
“Her birthday.” Chase closes his sketchbook. “Saw it on her application. Thinking we should do something.”
I pour coffee, remembering how her face lit up watching the girls with their homework. “She doesn’t seem the party type.”
“After what she’s been through?” Rick finally meets my eyes. “Maybe that’s why she needs one.”
“The girls would love it.” I sit with them, plans already forming. “Violet mentioned she likes strawberry cake.”
Chase grins. “And you say you’re not whipped.”
“Says the man who sketches her constantly.”
“Both of you shut up.” But Rick’s smiling. “We’ll do it at the gallery. After hours. Small, just family and friends.”
Family. The word feels right.
“Speaking of family…” I start, but they both wave me off.
“We know.” Chase stretches. “Saw your truck this morning.”
“About damn time,” Rick adds.
Yeah. About damn time, indeed.