Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 128812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
"You mean—"
I snap my mouth shut when Ace holds up his hands near his ears, as if he feels like he’s already said too much. I won't be getting another thing out of him.
Chapter 3
Zayne
My skin tingles as I notice Ace get up from his spot on the sofa and work his way in this direction. He isn't exactly making a beeline in my direction, but I can tell that getting to me is his end goal.
I know that as sure as I know he and Frankie were talking about me. It was no different from witnessing all those conversations back in high school, where no one would question who I was or what I had going on to my face. They spent nearly every lunch period whispering and making furtive glances in my direction.
It was frustrating then, but now, in a room full of nothing but adults, it was growing increasingly infuriating. I can only imagine my old friend was trying to figure out exactly how to get me not only off this specific team but out of Cerberus entirely, so he could go about his life without the risk of having to lay eyes on me ever again.
The thought is almost soul-crushing, something that would probably have most people tucking their tails and giving in.
I'm nothing like most people. I'm not only secure enough in who I am to hold my head high even when I'm not wanted, but more so, I'm one petty motherfucker. If Frankie is so put out by the sight of me, then my only recourse is to be in his face every chance I get. If anyone is leaving this house or Cerberus, it'll be him, not me.
The way that thought hits me right in the center of my very being makes me question my own sanity. I have wavered, going back and forth a million times, trying to decide whether being here in the first place was a healthy thing for me to endure. I struggled with it over and over right up until the second I walked into this house moments ago, but the sight of that man somehow calms and enrages me at the same time. I'd be a fool not to explore what that may mean.
"You'll let us know if you need anything?" Zara asks, her pretty face lit up with her soft smile.
"I will," I promise, knowing that I've never been one to ask for help.
I've always been more of a make-it-happen-myself kind of guy, but it's nice to know there are people around me who would offer a hand if I ever needed it.
"We'll let you get settled," Hemlock says, his voice gruff and with a hint of something else.
This chapter hasn't been active for very long, and his presidency was only announced after his episode that brought Zara and him together. There's a very good chance that he's not exactly happy with the way I entered the house and dropped a bomb right in the middle of this group that has only very recently gotten to know each other. I feel a sense of remorse for the way I acted. I know it can't be easy to keep a team of people with so many different backgrounds and life stories together.
"Meeting first thing in the morning," he says before guiding Zara away.
I'm not left standing there alone for long.
"Nice to see you again," I say, holding out my hand and doing my best to ignore the urge to ask just what in the hell he and my old friend were chatting about.
This entire thing feels much more juvenile than it should, but I imagine that's because the history I have with Frankie comes from a time when neither of us was really even a man. I don't know about him, but I had no real clue about who I was at the time.
His denial in front of this team makes me wonder whether what we shared all those years ago happened only because he was trying to figure out who he was, and now that he's grown, he's well aware of who he is. That leaves me wishing I hadn't opened my damn mouth in the first place.
"You as well," Ace says, clasping my hand in his and giving it a firm shake.
There's a beat of awkward silence, but I spend it looking around the vast room and admiring the expansive height of the ceiling rather than giving in to the urge to look in Frankie’s direction.
I fight it as long as I can manage, no doubt looking like an impressed child, as if I've never been in a house this big, which is far from the truth. The house I grew up in was just as large. The difference is, even with the cold shoulder I've gotten from Frankie, I can already tell that this place feels like home to some.