Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
RUN BOY RUN
HAZEL
Zack’s warning ran through me like a bolt of electricity.
What kind of danger are we in if he’s telling me to run if he says run?
I feel my heart lodging in the base of my throat as my breath quickens.
His soulless eyes look more empty than I ever remember them looking like before.
I don’t understand how this all got so dangerous so damn fast.
I try my best to put that ever-present smile on my face. It’s what I’m known for, and it's what he needs right now, even though I literally feel like the world around me is crumbling and it’s all a lie.
Zack mounts his motorcycle while I put my helmet on and struggle getting my short ass legs over his bike. “We’re going to need to discuss logical modes of transportation, because this bike is wildly dangerous, and I can comfortably say I am going to fall off this fucking death trap.”
His face is humorless as he turns around and faces me, slams my helmet visor shut, and turns back around.
Zack guns the engine, and the vibration crawling up my spine before I can say anything else.
The roar thunders through the quiet street, ricocheting off the buildings—too loud, too exposed.
My pulse jumps even harder. Whatever sound we heard in those trees—whatever made Zack’s face drain of every trace of life—I can still feel it behind us.
Like it’s reaching invisible fingers toward my back, clawing away at my soul.
He doesn’t look at me again. He just jerks his chin, a silent hold on, and then the bike launches forward.
The wind slaps against me so sharply I gasp, arms locking around his torso like I’ve been welded to him. The world blurs, streetlights streaking into gold smears as we tear through town. I can’t hear the mysterious sound anymore. I can barely hear myself think. Maybe that’s the point.
“Where are we going?” I shout, my voice muffled inside my helmet.
He only shouts back one word: “Home.”
Not my home, definitely not mine…his. And for some reason, that sends a colder shiver through me more than the wind does.
How did I not realize he lived in Tennessee?
It just goes to show how little I know about this man, one that I’m beginning to think I might be a little more into than I’m letting on, even to myself.
By the time he swerves into a narrow, gravel driveway, my thighs are shaking so badly I’m not sure I’ll be able to stand.
The house is small and half-lit, the porch light flickering like it’s trying to decide whether life is worth living.
Zack kills the engine, and the sudden silence makes my ears ring.
I peel myself off the bike, wobbling. “I swear my soul briefly left my body back on the freeway.”
“Good,” he mutters, pulling off his helmet. “Maybe it’ll stay gone and keep you quiet.”
“Oh wow,” I deadpan. “Look at you. A poet.”
Before he can form any type of retort, the front door swings open and a lanky guy with floppy, dark hair and a warm, amused smile leans against the frame.
“Zacharyyy,” he drawls. “You brought home a girl? Should I alert the press? Or a therapist?”
Zack groans, like this is the moment he’s been dreading his entire life. “Sam, don’t.”
“Sam, do,” I say immediately.
His eyes spark as he looks at me. “You must be Hazel.”
I blink. “How do you know—”
“I’ve heard so much,” Sam says dramatically, stepping aside so we can come in. “Mostly in the form of Zack complaining about you like a wounded Victorian spinster.”
“Sam,” Zack warns again, dropping his helmet on a side table a little too forcefully. The lamp on the table nearly falls, and he catches it before stomping off like a petulant child.
“Oh! Which totally reminds me.” Sam leans in conspiratorially. “Is he still doing that thing where he acts like smiling will cause structural damage to his face?”
I absolutely lose it. A laugh bursts out of me, too loud for the quiet house, but God it feels good. Relief loosens something knotted tight in my chest. I glance at Zack, whose scowl is teetering dangerously close to a pout.
“Yes,” I say. “Yes, he is. But sometimes—very rarely—there are these micro-smile events. Like an eclipse. You have to be quick.”
Sam slaps a hand over his heart. “A micro-smile? A confirmed sighting? I’m honored to be in the presence of someone who’s seen the impossible.”
Zack stomps past both of us toward a hallway. “I’m grabbing my stuff. Touch nothing. Talk less.” I have to hold back a snort as I watch Zack’s disappearing form.
“We will absolutely do neither of those things,” Sam calls after him. Then he turns to me, smirking. “So, mysterious girl Zack risked his blood pressure to bring home, what are you two running from that actually has him bringing you here?”
My stomach tightens again, the reminder crawling back under my skin. The sounds that surrounded us, the shadows in the trees, Zack’s dead-eyed stare—it’s floating around in my brain and sticking to my very bone marrow.
“I…don’t know,” I finally admit, my following response nowhere near as confident.
“But he looked scared? I don’t really know what's all going on.” There’s also no way that I’m telling his…
kid? I mean, I don’t even know who this child really is, but this clearly isn’t the time or place for a family reunion.
Sam’s eyebrows lift conspiratorially, a shit-eating grin growing on his face, his youth more prominent. “Zack? Scared? Huh. Okay, now you’ve got my attention.”
That flicker of fear—the thing I’ve been trying to bury—wiggles up my throat again. “Do you think we’re actually in danger?”
Sam doesn’t answer right away. His joking expression softens, just slightly, as he steps a little closer, his voice dropping almost as if not believing this was actually happening.
“If Zack brought you here,” he says quietly, “then yeah. Something’s wrong. He only comes home when he needs backup, and the fact that he let you inside the house…shit must be real fucking serious.”
I swallow hard, my pulse hammering in my chest. I can almost feel the anxiety throwing itself around my body. The word echoes in my psyche. Backup.
Zack reappears with a duffel slung over his shoulder, jaw clenched, eyes still stormy enough to make my skin prickle. He nods once toward the door.
“Let’s go.”
Sam steps in front of him, eyebrows raised. “Going without me? Rude.”
“Absolutely not, Samuel. You know the rule. You don’t get to know or come with in these situations. This isn’t your life, kid. Remember that.”
“It is now,” Sam says, simply. “Rule one, big brother: you don’t run into danger alone.” Then he glances at me and adds with a grin, “Or with only someone who can’t get on a motorcycle without almost dying.”
“Hey!” I protest, but my eyebrows shoot up at the realization of who this kid is—his little brother.
Zack exhales sharply. But there’s a tiny, almost nonexistent twitch at the corner of his mouth. A micro-smile.
And for a moment, even with the threat still crawling in the dark behind us, I breathe easier. Because whatever we’re running from? We’re not running alone anymore, and that is probably the most terrifying thing I’ve ever experienced.