Chapter 18
The house is quiet when I get home. I push the door open with my hip, balancing the bag of groceries in one arm. As soon as I step inside, the sound of my mom’s keys jangling reaches my ears.
“Hey, Mom,” I call out, heading to the kitchen to drop the bag on the counter.
She’s in her scrubs, tying her hair back into a loose ponytail. She looks up, giving me a once-over. “Where’ve you been all day? You didn’t answer my text.”
“Classes,” I lie smoothly, pulling out the milk. “Then I swung by Maya’s for a bit. How are things with you?”
Her brow arches, and she leans against the doorway, watching me like she doesn’t quite believe me. “Hospital’s been a madhouse.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What’s going on over there?”
“Dr. Benson finally retired— thank God. He was like ninety and barely knew how to hold a scalpel anymore. You should’ve seen the look on everyone’s faces when he announced it during rounds.” She chuckles, grabbing her purse from the counter.
“No way. I thought he’d die in that hospital.”
“Me too. But apparently, he’s moving to Florida. Can’t say I blame him.”
I grin, shutting the fridge. “Guess that’s the highlight of the week, huh?”
“Pretty much.” She checks her watch and sighs. “Alright, I have to go. Double shift tonight. Don’t wait up.”
I wave her off. “Be safe.”
She’s already halfway out the door, muttering something about coffee as she leaves.
I retreat to my room, kicking off my shoes and flopping onto the bed. My phone connects to the speaker, and soon Taylor Swift’s voice fills the space. I crank up the volume, humming along to the lyrics as I grab a hairbrush and use it as a makeshift mic.
It’s just me and Taylor, singing about bad exes and missed chances, when I hear a knock at the front door.
It’s faint, almost drowned out by the music, but it’s there.
I pause, frowning. I make my way downstairs, peeking through the peephole. My stomach drops.
“Shit,” I mutter, yanking the door open.
“Remy.” Colin’s brother, Trevor, stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets. His face is tight, like he’s upset.
“Hey, Trev. What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice sharper than I mean it to be. “Is everything okay?”
He doesn’t answer right away, his eyes scanning my face like he’s looking for something. Finally, he sighs. “I saw you–”
I blink. “Saw me?”
“At the grocery store today,” he says, his voice low. “With that guy.”
My heart skips a beat, but I keep my face neutral. “So?”
His jaw clenches. “Is it true?”
I cross my arms, leaning against the doorframe. Trevor and I were pretty close while I was with Colin. He’s Colin’s older brother, so Trevor and I know each other pretty well.
“Is what true, Trevor?” I ask.
“Don’t play dumb, Remy.” His voice rises, and for a second, I think he’s going to lose it. “Are you sleeping with him?”
I stare at him, my throat tightening.
“I knew it,” he spits, taking a step back. “Jesus Christ, Remy. You didn’t even sleep with Colin. Colin’s barely gone, and you’re already—”
“Stop,” I cut him off, my voice sharp. “You don’t get to do this.”
He laughs bitterly. “I just thought you were better than this. I thought that we were a family, that you’d marry Colin, have kids with him, but no, you were with this guy, weren’t you? Have you been sleeping with him before Colin broke up with you? Were you cheating on my brother—”
“Trevor.” My voice shakes, and I hate it. “Just stop. Please.”
He shakes his head, his eyes hard. “You’ve changed, you know that? You’re not the Remy I knew. You get into some rich fucking school and you–”
I bite the inside of my cheek, refusing to let the tears fall as I shut the door.
“You are so guilty, Rem. Just wait until you find out what this guy is really about!”
I hear his footsteps descend as my heart pounds. I don’t know what he’s talking about, or how he would know anything about Zane, but my mind’s running wild.
Hours later, I’m curled up on the couch, trying to focus on some stupid reality show when the doorbell rings.
I groan, dragging myself to the door. When I open it, Zane’s standing there, a bouquet of flowers in his hand.
“Hey,” he says, his voice soft.
I blink, surprised. “What… what are you doing here?”
He shrugs, holding out the flowers. “Saw these and thought of you.”
I take them, the corners of my mouth twitching despite myself. “Thanks.”
“You okay?” His eyes narrow, scanning my face.
I force a smile. “Yeah.”
He doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push it.
“I’ve got a game Saturday,” he says after a beat, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Against Notre Dame.”
“That’s a big one, right?”
“Yeah.” He smirks. “I want you there.”
I nod, setting the flowers on the table. “Okay.”
He steps closer, his hand cupping my cheek. His touch is possessive, grounding. “Talk to me, Remy.”
I close my eyes, leaning into his palm. “Colin was here,” I whisper.
His hand drops, his entire body tensing. “What?”
I take a step back, wrapping my arms around myself. “Trevor, I mean. Colin’s brother. He… he saw us at the store and—”
“And what?” His voice is sharp now, the softness gone.
“He was so upset. I don’t know if Colin didn’t tell him about the breakup, but that doesn’t make sense because they’re close. He asked if I was sleeping with you,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
“And?”
“And I didn’t deny it.”
His jaw tightens, his hands curling into fists. “So what’s the problem?”
I look away, my chest tightening. I’m a liar, a cheater, a bad person. No, a horrible fucking person. A little slut. I didn’t just hurt Colin, I hurt others I didn’t intend to.
I inhale, “He was… angry. Hurt. I don’t know. It just—”
“Remy.” His voice cuts through my thoughts, low and firm. “I don’t give a damn what he thinks. Or what anyone fucking thinks. I care about you. About us. But you need to make a choice.”
My heart races at the sound of that. “What?”
“Me or him,” he says, his eyes burning into mine. “Because I’m not going to share you. Not with him. Not with anyone.”
I stare at him, my mind spinning. This isn’t fair. “Zane.”
“Choose,” he demands, stepping closer.
“I choose you,” I say quickly, the words tumbling out before I can think.
He exhales, his shoulders relaxing slightly. But then his eyes narrow again. “Then you’re done with him. With all of them. I mean it, Remy. No texts, no calls, nothing.”
I nod, swallowing hard. I can’t just shut off my emotions, but what else am I supposed to say? That I feel like shit? I stare into Zane’s determined eyes. He’s serious, so I mutter, “Okay.”
He studies me for a long moment, then pulls me into his arms. “Good. Now, let’s forget about him. It’s just us, got it?”
“Got it,” I whisper against his chest, hoping it’s enough.
The mirror doesn’t lie.
I stand in front of it, studying my reflection. My skin is marked in shades of red and purple, like watercolor smudges. His handprints are still faint on my hips, and my thighs ache with every step.
Zane didn’t just fuck me. He claimed me. Again. And again. And every time, he made me say it. “I’m yours.” Over and over until I believed it. Until I was too wrecked to say anything else.
I brush my fingers over the bruises on my neck, biting the inside of my cheek. It’s raw—too much, too fast—and yet, I let him. No, I wanted him to.
The hot water from the shower scalds my skin, but it’s grounding. I scrub until my muscles ache, hoping the sting will clear my head. By the time I step out, I feel cleaner, but not lighter.
Throwing on a pair of soft flannel pants and an oversized hoodie, I drop onto my bed. My hair’s still damp, clinging to my neck, but I don’t care. My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I groan, reaching for it.
“Maya?” I answer, confused.
“Hey,” she says, her voice hesitant. “I’m outside. Can we talk?”
I blink, sitting up. “Outside? Like… here?”
“Yeah.”
I grab a pair of fuzzy socks. “Okay, I’ll be right out. Give me a second.”
Maya is leaning against her car, her arms crossed and her face set in that weird mix of nervous and determined. As soon as she sees me, she walks up and pulls me into a hug.
“I missed you,” she says, squeezing me tight.
I let her hug me for a second before stepping back. “You’ve got some nerve showing up here.”
Her eyes widen. “What?”
“You ghosted me,” I snap, crossing my arms. “Over Zane. Do you even realize how shitty that was?”
“Remy, I—”
“No, don’t ‘Remy’ me.” My voice rises, and I point a finger at her. “You were supposed to be my best friend, but the second Zane came into the picture, you bailed. What the hell, Maya?”
Her face crumples, and she sighs. “You’re right. I screwed up. Big time. I was just… I don’t know. I didn’t want to get in the middle of whatever’s going on with you two.”
“That’s bullshit.”
She winces, looking genuinely guilty. “You’re right. It is. I’m sorry, okay? No boys before girls. Ever. That’s the rule.”
I huff, still annoyed, but a tiny part of me softens.
She reaches out, pinky extended. “I swear. From now on, no more ditching you. Not even for a hot hockey player with psycho tendencies.”
I roll my eyes but hook my pinky around hers. “You owe me big time.”
“Deal.” She grins, then tilts her head, studying me. “You okay, though? Like… really?”
I shrug, avoiding her gaze. “It’s pretty complicated, Maya.”
“When isn’t it?” she mutters. Then, with a brighter tone, “Hey, want to go to a movie? My treat. We can watch something stupid and eat overpriced popcorn.”
I hesitate, glancing back at the house. “I guess. But I need to change.”
“Cool. I’ll wait.”
Maya follows me to my room, flopping onto my bed like she’s been here a hundred times.
“Still obsessed with Taylor Swift, I see,” she teases, nodding toward the speaker.
“Don’t judge,” I shoot back, rifling through my closet. “Her music is therapy.”
“Uh-huh.” She rolls onto her stomach, watching me. “So, what’re you gonna wear? Something sexy?”
“For a movie? Yeah, no.” I pull out a pair of jeans and a fitted sweater, holding them up. “This work?”
She nods approvingly. “Casual but cute. I dig it.”
I change quickly, throwing my damp hair into a messy bun. Maya doesn’t even bat an eye at my cluttered desk or the stack of ramen cups by my trash can. She’s always been like that— easygoing, never making me feel weird about our differences.
“Alright, let’s go,” I say, grabbing my jacket.
The theater is packed, but we manage to snag seats in the middle. Maya hands me a tub of popcorn and a massive soda, grinning like a kid.
“What’s this movie about?” I ask.
“An older rom-com. They like to switch things up week to week,” she says, popping a kernel into her mouth. “I figured you could use something light and nostalgic.”
I nod, settling into my seat. The lights dim, and for the first time all day, I let myself relax.
Maya leans over halfway through the previews, whispering, “By the way, Zane’s kind of scary. In a hot way.”
I snort, nearly choking on my drink. “You’re insane.”
“Yeah but he’s different with you. I’ve never seen him like this with anyone.”
Her words linger, even as the movie starts. I try to focus on the screen, but my mind keeps drifting. To Zane. To the way he looks at me, like I’m the only thing that matters.
The movie playing this week is Bridesmaids . Classic. Maya swears it’s the funniest movie ever made, and I have to admit, it’s hard not to laugh. We’re both cackling during the scene with the food poisoning. By the time Melissa McCarthy climbs onto that sink, Maya’s snorting so loud people are glaring at us.
“Remy,” she gasps between laughs, clutching my arm, “if I ever go down like that, just leave me. I don’t want to live.”
“You? Survive bad sushi?” I whisper back, still giggling. “You’d be Melissa McCarthy. You’d own the sink.”
We’re still laughing as the credits roll, and by the time we step out of the theater, my stomach hurts in the best way. Maya’s rambling about how she’s going to be a badass bridesmaid one day when someone whistles behind us.
I freeze mid-step and glance back.
It’s Caleb. And Zane.
“What the hell?” Maya squeals, bolting toward Caleb. He catches her mid-run, spinning her around like some cheesy rom-com hero, planting a kiss on her lips.
“Of course,” I mutter under my breath.
Zane doesn’t run. He doesn’t spin anyone around. No, he strolls toward me like he’s got all the time in the world, his dark gaze steady on mine. My stomach flips when he leans in, pressing a kiss to the side of my head.
“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice low.
“Hi.” My voice comes out weird, high-pitched and awkward.
Maya, still clinging to Caleb, finally turns her attention back to us. “What’re you guys doing here?”
Caleb grins. “Little Remy’s out on a school night? Thought we’d make the most of it. Dinner and dancing, yeah?”
I frown. “I’ve got a 9 a.m. tomorrow.”
Zane raises a brow. “You’ll make it.”
His tone leaves no room for argument. I glare at him, but Maya’s already bouncing in excitement.
“There’s a place around the corner. Korean BBQ. You’ll love it,” Maya says to me. “Piggyback ride!” Maya demands, already jumping onto Caleb’s back.
“You’re such a brat,” he mutters, but he’s laughing as he lifts her effortlessly.
I shake my head, trying not to smile, when Zane looks at me. “Your turn.”
“No way,” I say quickly, holding up my hands. “I’m not doing that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I weigh way more than Maya.”
His lips twitch in amusement. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No.”
He steps closer, lowering his voice. “Remy, I bench press more than you weigh. Get on.”
Before I can argue, he ducks down, his back to me. “C’mon. I’m not asking twice.”
Muttering under my breath, I climb onto his back, and he stands like I weigh nothing.
“See? Told you,” he says, smirking.
“You’re so annoying,” I mumble, but I catch myself smiling as he carries me to the restaurant.
The Korean BBQ place is warm and cozy, with a private booth in the back. Caleb slides into one side with Maya, and I end up sitting next to Zane on the other.
“Order whatever you want,” Caleb says, tossing a menu at Maya.
“I want everything ,” she declares, flipping through it.
We end up with way too much food— bulgogi, spicy pork, short ribs, rice cakes, and all the side dishes. Maya insists on grilling, and Caleb’s content to let her, leaning back and watching her messily flip the meat.
“You’re burning it,” he teases.
“I know what I’m doing.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
They’re bickering like an old married couple, and for once, I don’t feel out of place.
Zane’s knee bumps mine under the table, and I glance at him. He doesn’t say anything, just slides his hand over mine, his fingers curling around it.
It’s stupidly intimate, and I don’t pull away.
“So,” Maya says, her mouth full of rice. “Remy, when’re we doing this again?”
“I don’t know. How about when I don’t have a class the next day?” I say sarcastically.
“Boring.”
Caleb grins. “She’s always been Little Miss Responsible. Haven’t you, Little Remy?”
“Don’t call me that,” I mutter, tossing a napkin at him.
Maya sighs dramatically. “Can’t take you anywhere.”
I glance at Zane, expecting him to look bored, but he’s smiling— this soft, almost unguarded smile that gives me butterflies. I smile back, finally feeling like I belong in his world.
The food is insane. The kind of insane that makes you reconsider everything you thought you knew about flavor. Caleb’s shoving short ribs in his mouth like he’s in a speed- eating contest, while Maya keeps stealing the rice cakes and pretending it wasn’t her.
“Seriously, stop hoarding them,” Caleb says, grabbing her chopsticks mid-air.
“Get your own!” Maya snaps, stuffing one into her mouth and grinning, sauce smeared on her chin.
Across from them, I’m laughing so hard I’m choking on my soju.
Zane slides a piece of bulgogi onto my plate, casual like he does it all the time. “Eat,” he says, his voice low and rough.
“I’m literally eating,” I reply, but the corner of my mouth twitches.
“Eat more.”
I roll my eyes but pop the meat in my mouth. It’s good— too good— and I’m vaguely annoyed that he’s right.
He leans closer, his arm brushing mine. “Good girl,” he murmurs, like it’s some private joke between us.
My face heats up, and I grab my soju glass, downing it in one go.
“Whoa, easy there, champ,” Maya says, laughing.
“I’m fine,” I say, pouring another shot.
Zane smirks, grabbing my glass and taking a sip himself.
“Hey!”
He ignores me, setting it back down before reaching under the table. His hand finds mine again, warm and rough, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. And then, like it’s no big deal, he leans in and presses his mouth to mine.
Right there. In the middle of the restaurant.
I swear the air gets hotter, or maybe it’s me. My skin’s buzzing like live wires, and my head’s spinning— not from the soju but from him.
Maya hollers. “Ow! Ow! Get a room, you two!”
Zane pulls back, slow and deliberate, his gaze fixed on mine. “Ignore her,” he says, his voice just for me.
I swallow hard, trying to pretend like I’m not completely undone. “You’re near impossible.”
He smirks again, lazy and cocky, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
We both look at her and she’s shoving another rice cake in her mouth, watching us. She shrugs with her mouth full and then we all burst into laughter.
By the time we stumble out of the restaurant, I’m tipsy, and Maya’s practically skipping. The air’s cooler now, sharp against my flushed skin.
“I’m cold,” I mumble, wrapping my arms around myself.
Zane shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders before I can protest.
“Thanks,” I say quietly, the scent of him— leather and cedar— wrapping around me like a second skin.
Caleb stretches, cracking his neck. “Alright, ladies. Ready to go dancing?”
Maya claps her hands. “Hell yes!”
“Actually…” Caleb glances at Zane, who nods. “Before that, we’ve got a stop to make.”
“What kind of stop?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
Zane smirks. “It’s a surprise.”
I groan. “Why do I feel like I’m not going to like this?”
“You’ll love it,” Maya chirps, already dragging me along.
We walk a few blocks until we turn a corner, and there they are— two massive motorcycles parked under a streetlamp.
“You ride?” I blurt out, staring at them.
“Yeah,” Zane says, sounding amused. “We just got these the other day.”
Caleb’s already hopping on one, patting the seat behind him. “C’mon, baby.”
Maya squeals, climbing on without hesitation.
“Remy,” Zane says, his voice steady, “you’re with me.”
“I’ve never done this before,” I admit, my stomach knotting as I eye the bike.
“Exactly. Get on.”
“What if you crash?”
He steps closer, his hand brushing my cheek before tilting my chin up. His gaze is steady, dark and sure. “I won’t crash. You’re mine. I’d die before I let anything happen to you.”
My breath catches, and before I can overthink it, he’s helping me onto the bike. His hands are firm on my waist, pulling me close against him.
“Hold on,” he says, his voice low and rough.
I wrap my arms around his waist, and then we’re moving, the engine roaring to life beneath us. The wind rushes past, cool and sharp, but all I can focus on is the warmth of him, solid and steady.
By the time we pull up in front of a tattoo parlor, my nerves have settled— mostly.
“A tattoo?” I say, sliding off the bike and staring at the neon sign. “Are you serious?”
Maya’s already bouncing toward the door. “I’m getting Caleb’s name tattooed on my ass!”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter.
Caleb grins. “I’m getting a hockey puck.”
“What about you?” I ask Zane as we step inside.
He shrugs. “It’s a surprise.”
Of course it is.
Maya’s practically vibrating with excitement as she picks out her design, and I stick close to her while Zane and Caleb talk to the artist.
“You’re not getting one?” Maya asks, raising a brow.
“My mom would kill me,” I say flatly.
“That’s fair.”
She’s grinning so hard when they call her name, and I find myself laughing despite myself.
For once, everything feels easy. Fun. And for the first time, I don’t feel so alone.
The tattoo parlor smells like rubbing alcohol and bad decisions, but it’s buzzing with energy. Maya’s in the chair, grinning like a maniac while the artist inks Caleb’s number on her hip. Caleb watches her, arms crossed, his grin cocky as hell.
“You’re obsessed,” I tease, nudging him.
He smirks. “Can you blame me?”
Zane’s been quiet, leaning against the wall, watching me. His arms are crossed, his shirt stretched tight across his chest, and I’ve been pretending not to notice the way his eyes follow my every move.
“You’re next, big guy,” the artist calls to him.
Zane straightens, and for a second, I swear his eyes flick to me. Then he’s heading to the chair, calm as ever.
“What’s he getting?” I ask Caleb, keeping my voice low.
Caleb shrugs. “It’s Zane. Could be anything. Dude’s unpredictable.”
Maya snorts. “You’re one to talk.”
By the time we’re done, it’s dark outside. The streetlights cast long shadows, and the air’s colder than before.
Maya bounces out the door, practically skipping. “That was amazing!”
“You’re insane,” I tell her, but I’m laughing.
“C’mon, Remy. You were tempted.”
I shrug. “Maybe.”
Zane hands me a bottle of water. “Drink.”
I roll my eyes but take it. “You’re bossy tonight, you know that?”
“Yeah,” he says, smirking.
I chug the water, handing the empty bottle back to him. “Happy?”
He steps closer, pulling his shirt over his head in one smooth motion.
“Holy shit,” I whisper.
There, across his chest, is a clean, bold design—a black crown, simple but striking.
“For me?” I joke, half-serious.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he turns slightly, revealing the inside of his forearm.
And I stop breathing.
It’s my eyes. My goddamn eyes, perfectly detailed, staring back at me.
“Zane…” My voice is barely a whisper.
His gaze locks on mine, steady and unflinching. “I’m yours,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “As much as you’re mine.”
My throat tightens, and all I can manage is a quiet, “Wow.”
“Of course, baby,” he murmurs, and then his mouth is on mine.
When I finally pull away, dazed, Maya’s showing off her tattoo to Caleb.
“It’s perfect,” she says, twisting her hip to give him a better view of his number inked there.
Caleb’s grinning like a kid on Christmas. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
“Says the guy with my name on his arm,” she shoots back, pointing to the puck tattooed with Maya in bold script.
I shake my head. “I almost feel bad for being the only one without a tattoo.”
Zane steps up behind me, his hands settling on my hips. “Don’t worry,” he says, his voice low in my ear. “I’ve got other ways of marking you.”
I laugh, my cheeks heating.
The club is packed, the bass thumping so hard it rattles my chest.
Maya drags Caleb onto the dance floor, and Zane steers me toward a private lounge. The room’s quieter, dimly lit with plush seating and a perfect view of the chaos below.
“Drink?” Zane asks, settling into a corner seat.
“Sure.”
He orders something strong for both of us, then pulls me into his lap.
“Zane!” I yelp, squirming.
“Relax,” he says, his hands firm on my thighs.
The music filters in from outside, pulsing through the walls. Zane’s fingers trace slow patterns on my legs, and my skin’s burning where he touches me.
“You’re tense,” he murmurs.
“I’m not,” I argue, but my voice betrays me.
He smirks, shifting so I’m pressed tighter against him. “You’re sexy as hell when you’re lying.”
I huff, grab my drink, and take a long sip.
A few songs in, Maya and Caleb stumble into the lounge, laughing and out of breath.
“This place is insane!” Maya says, collapsing onto the couch.
“Best night ever,” Caleb agrees, pulling her into his lap.
The hours blur, the drinks keep coming, and before I know it, I’m standing, swaying slightly, while Zane watches me with a look that’s both amused and hungry.
“You’re dancing for me now?” he asks, his voice lazy.
“Maybe.”
I move to the music, my hands on his shoulders, and his hands slide up my thighs, pulling me closer.
“You’re trouble,” he murmurs, his eyes locked on mine.
At some point, an alarm goes off on Zane’s phone.
“What the hell?” I mutter, still half-dancing.
He silences it, standing and pulling me with him. “We’re leaving.”
“What? No! I’m having fun.”
“You’ve got class in a few hours,” he reminds me.
I pout, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Buzzkill.”
He smirks. “You’ll thank me later.”
Maya and Caleb are still on the dance floor, tangled up in each other, practically dry humping.
“Today was the best!” Maya shouts as we pass them.
“Try not to get arrested,” I call back, laughing.
Zane’s hand is warm and steady around mine as he leads me outside.
“You good?” he asks, glancing at me.
I nod, leaning into him as the cool air hits. “Yeah. I’m good.”
And for once, I actually mean it .