Bright Like Midnight: Chapter 11

close watch on me. He’d done the same when I came back to the house the day before, sitting in the kitchen with me the whole time I cooked. He was cute and needy and it made me laugh.

“I want you to teach me how to make biscuits,” he announced, raking hungry eyes over the steaming biscuits I’d just taken from the oven.

I arched a brow. “Do you? If you know how to make them, why should I keep coming to make them for you?”

He snapped his fingers. “Good point, Princess Z. ’Cause I know nothing I make is ever going to live up to your cooking, even if I learn from the master herself.”

I bit back a grin. “So, you want to remain helpless?

“Hell yes I do. I think I’m going to hire you next semester.”

I walked to the island where he was sitting, propping a hip on the stool next to him, and waved my wooden spoon. “Or we could just be friends. I like to cook for my friends. You may or may not know this about me, but I don’t actually have aspirations of becoming a housekeeper or personal chef.”

I thought he’d laugh, but he gave me a close inspection, sweeping over my face and the hand holding the spoon.

“You’d wanna be my friend after all this?”

I lifted a shoulder. “We’ll see. You have a couple months to win me over. Sometimes I don’t like you very much, you know.”

My blunt honesty surprised even me. When I first met Julien, I’d been intimidated. He was just as devastatingly attractive as Amir and Marco. His shaggy, sandy hair, sharply carved features, and crystalline green eyes would have sent most girls’ hearts into overdrive. I wasn’t immune, and guys who looked like him always drove me deep into my shell. But over the last couple weeks, he’d shown me a kindness that had caught me off guard, dragging me right back out of my shell. I still found him devastatingly attractive, but I wasn’t attracted to him. I didn’t wonder what his lips felt like or how his hands would feel on my body. He was just Julien. Hot, friendly, Julien. Unless he was doing Amir’s bidding. Those were times I didn’t like him.

Julien winced at my answer. “No doubt I’ll give you more reasons to hate me as time goes by.”

“I don’t hate anyone, not really.”

He scratched his chin, shooting me a crooked grin. “You don’t hate Amir?”

I shook my head. God, if I were to hate anyone, it would be…okay…well, Drew would be on top of the list, but Amir would be there somewhere too.

“No. My mind tends to go more toward fear than hate. That’s just how I work.”

“Are you scared of Amir?” he asked.

I was…a lot of things when it came to Amir. I didn’t hate him, not at all. Everything I felt for him was so mixed up and swirled together, it was impossible to sort the fear from the longing from the desire from the anger. I couldn’t think straight when it came to him. He’d pushed me down to my knees and rubbed his dick on my lips without my permission, but he’d also held me through a panic attack and promised to protect me. And when I first came to him, I’d known he would, even though we’d only met once. There in my room, the hours we were stuck together, I saw the kind of man he was. Captor and savior all rolled into one.

“Sometimes I’m scared, yeah.” I tapped the spoon on his arm. “Why are you so interested in how I feel about Amir?”

“I’d like to know that too.”

I whipped around, finding Amir leaning one shoulder on the doorjamb, his arms folded over his chest, a hint of a frown marring his otherwise impassive face. His dark, stormy gaze flicked from Julien to me, his brow furrowing until there was a deep crevice down the center.

“Curious, dude,” Julien replied. “Next, we can talk about Marco, then circle back to me again.”

I turned back to him, and he winked at me, which made me roll my eyes.

“Remember how I said I don’t like you sometimes? This is one of those times,” I hissed.

Julien laughed at my hissing like I was a tiny, cute kitten. Amir didn’t laugh, but then, he rarely did. At least not when I was around. He stalked into the kitchen, straight to me, and braced one hand on the back of my stool, the other on the counter in front of me, boxing me in.

“Since I missed the beginning of the conversation, why don’t you enlighten me, Zadie?” Amir’s hiss effective. Voice dropped low, he sounded like a sleek jungle cat preparing to pounce.

I tipped my head back to meet his midnight eyes. “I told Julien I don’t hate you but sometimes I’m afraid of you. I don’t think that’s a secret.”

“No.” He slowly shook his head. “A couple days ago, we discussed how you be afraid of me.” He picked up one of the ringlets that had formed around my face from the steam while I was cooking. “But I’m surprised to hear you don’t hate me. I would hate being someone’s property.”

I raised my chin higher. “You think of me as your property. I know I’m not. I also don’t know what hating someone feels like, but I don’t think it’s this.”

He exhaled a hard breath. “You…don’t know what hate feels like?”

Julien chuckled. “Are you surprised our personal ray of sunshine doesn’t know what hate feels like?”

Amir leveled his friend with a cutting glare. “‘

?” Without looking at me, he cupped the back of my head. “Zadie is mine. She’s not giving you any sunshine.”

He was so freaking ridiculous, I couldn’t hold back a giggle. When Julien heard me laughing, he snorted so hard, he started coughing. Amir straightened, folding his arms over his chest again, while Julien and I burst into laughter. Marco wandered in, a bemused look on his face, and sidled up to Amir.

“What’s going on?”

Amir glanced at him, then us. “No fucking idea.”

Of course, that brought on a fresh wave of giggles. Julien bent in half, his forehead on the granite, while I covered my mouth, attempting to stifle some of my laughter, but it was no use. Amir was so growly and pissy for no actual reason, and it tickled something inside me.

“They laughing at you?” Marco asked.

“Yeah. It seems like it,” Amir replied.

“You mad?”

Amir stared at us, and through my teary eyes, I swore I saw his mouth quirking. “Nah. I know Julien won’t be laughing when I don’t let him eat any biscuits for dinner.”

Julien shot out of his chair, stone-faced sober. “I let a lot of shit slide, but that’s never gonna happen.”

Amir grinned wide. “Really? Are you going to stop me?”

Marco slapped his chest. “There’s going to be a mutiny up in this ship if you get between me and Zadie’s cooking.”

Without warning, Marco darted for the oven. Amir caught him around the middle, hauling him back toward the island. Amir took Marco’s elbow to his chest, then he grabbed Marco’s elbow, bracing it at his side. Marco tried to spin out of Amir’s grasp, but Amir caught his other elbow, pinning him in place.

Julien darted for the sink, grabbed a sponge, and hurled it straight for Amir’s head. When it bounced off with a wet slap, he dropped Marco’s arms to wipe the sudsy water from his forehead.

“You fuck,” he growled through a feral grin.

Marco picked up the sponge and pegged the back of Julien’s head as he retreated to the other side of the island. Meanwhile, Amir had a kitchen towel in his hand, using it like a whip on Marco’s legs and Julien’s torso. The three of them were wild and messy, cussing and shouting insults. I couldn’t stop the giggles, even as I crouched down so I wouldn’t end up with a sponge to the head.

This was the first time I’d seen Amir playful—Marco too, for that matter—and it was an incredible sight. He looked younger, freer, and there was a brightness in his midnight eyes that was never there. Right then, I was the furthest from hate I’d ever been in regard to Amir.

I pinched the back of Julien’s arm when he came close to me. “Don’t worry. If he takes all of them, I’ll make you your own batch next time.”

Chuckling, Julien patted my crown. “That’s my girl.”

Silence descending over the kitchen. Amir’s grin vanished, and I instantly knew I’d said the wrong thing. For a moment, I’d forgotten I was a pet and not a person to him. They could joke with each other, but I wasn’t allowed to join in.

He dropped Marco, who’d taken on the expression of a man watching a train wreck, and held his hand out to me.

“Time to go, Zadie,” Amir bit out.

“Okay,” I whispered. I hadn’t unpacked my messenger bag, so it was simple to slip it over my shoulder to make a quick escape. Amir took it from me as soon as I stood and strode out of the kitchen without a backward glance, clearly expecting me to follow.

“Sorry, Z,” Julien murmured.

“You’ll be all right,” Marco added, but yeah, he still had that train wreck look.

I gave them a wave. “See you guys later. And don’t let him eat all the biscuits.”

Amir was waiting for me in his SUV. I climbed in, clutching my bag in my lap. He was silent as we took the short drive back to campus. It wasn’t a comfortable silence by any means. The weight of it was so heavy, it was unbearable. I couldn’t keep doing this, not for the rest of the semester. My stomach hurt from the tension emanating from Amir in waves.

Taking a deep breath, I forced out the scrap of bravery I contained. “I don’t have feelings for Julien, you know. Not like that.”

His hands tightened on the wheel. “Okay.”

“If you’d rather I come and go without speaking to anyone, I can do that. Just tell me so I know what the expectations are. I don’t want to upset the balance in your house. I’d hate to think I’m causing a rift between you guys.”

He huffed. “You’re not gonna cause a rift.”

“Um…” I bit down hard on my lip, “well, good.”

Instead of pulling up to the curb in front of my dorm, he turned into a spot. With the SUV in park, he draped his arm over the wheel and turned to me. His eyes here half lidded, lazy, careless, like he hadn’t just been irate with me.

“You give a shit, huh?”

I sat up straight. “Of course I do.”

He cocked his head. “Why aren’t you into him?”

“What?”

“Julien. Why aren’t you into him? He’s nice, funny, easygoing. Girls like the shit out of him. You get along with him. You talk to him. So, why aren’t you into him?”

There was no heat behind his question. Not even a fraction. If anything, there was confusion, like he was genuinely perplexed why a woman like me wouldn’t want Julien.

I thought about my answer carefully but quickly. “I don’t think he’s my type.”

His eyes grew narrow. “You have a type?”

“Maybe? Based on my first boyfriend, who was a street racer, then Drew, who’s absolutely bananas, then you…I guess I go for guys likely to spend time in jail.”

His laugh was dry. “I’m on your list? Pretty sure what went on between us was all down to the circumstances.”

I bristled at his easy dismissal, as if I couldn’t discern for myself who I was attracted to. I wasn’t a girl who crushed a lot, nor did I fall into bed with just anyone.

“I wouldn’t have almost given you my virginity if it was only circumstance. I know my own mind and who I like. My picker could be a little choosier but—”

Amir’s hand covered my mouth. “Shut up, Zadie.”

I blinked at him, patiently waiting for him to tell me why he was mad at me this time.

“You’re a virgin?”

I nodded, still muzzled by his hand.

“You said you missed fucking.” He got closer, his nose almost touching mine. “You were going to let me inside you. If I hadn’t picked up my phone, I would have been inside your pussy.”

I nodded again.

“What the fuck?” he breathed.

I shrugged.

He finally dropped his hand down to my chin. “You’re not kidding, are you?”

“No, I’m not kidding at all. I was caught up in you that night.” I licked my dry lips. Amir followed my tongue’s path with his thumb, making me shiver. “I said I missed fucking because I…wanted something that had been taken from me because of Drew. I missed something I hadn’t had because of him.”

“What the fuck, Zadie?” He didn’t sound mad anymore, just confounded.

“I don’t know, Amir. You made me like you, the circumstances.” I brushed a strand of hair from my forehead. “But it doesn’t matter anymore. I just…I don’t want you, Marco, and Julien fighting anymore. So, I’ll just keep to myself and won’t cause any problems. Okay?”

He exhaled heavily through his nose while pinning me with a hard stare. “It doesn’t matter anymore, huh?”

If he kissed me right now, I would kiss him back, and not because I was his pet. The swirly, heady feeling he’d given me as my captor had never gone away. It had just lay dormant until I was in his presence again. I was such a cliché, the good girl who fell for bad boys.

“Amir…”

I didn’t know what he wanted me to say.

“Zadie,”—he pinched my chin between his fingers—“get the fuck outta my car.”

The way he said it, it was like he was reciting a love poem to me. Like a coo in my ear first thing in the morning. Soft, lilting, almost a song.

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Nope. I don’t need you tomorrow. I’ve got plans at night.” He shook my head gently. “Be good. Text me from your room.”

He let me go, and I ran inside. Helen and Theo were snuggled on the couch, and I assumed Elena was out since it was Friday and she was always out on Fridays. I tossed a wave at the two of them, then closed the door to my room and pressed my palm to my thundering heart.

I didn’t linger like that, though. Sitting on my bed, I snapped a picture of myself, rolling my eyes slightly to the side so he would get the message that I thought this whole tradition was silly.

My stepbrother was a giant. At sixteen, Eli was at least six and a half feet tall, with boats for feet and baseball mitts for hands. Every time I saw him, I was taken aback for a few minutes until I accepted reality: he was my baby stepbro, but he’d always be way bigger than me. As such, he enjoyed palming the top of my head and moving me around like I was a stuffed animal and he was the claw in an arcade game.

My mom, on the other hand, was model slim, long legged, and pixie faced. She was dwarfed beside Eli. Seeing their mismatched heights across from me in the diner booth made my heart go pitter-patter. I needed this visit. One hug from my mom, and all my troubles were a distant memory. She clung to me a little tighter than normal, which told me she’d needed the visit just as much.

We were having breakfast at the T, which was in Savage River’s cute downtown area. Mom and I planned on doing some shopping after. Plying Eli with food was the only way to get him to agree to hang.

“Have you heard from your dad?” Mom asked while cutting her pancakes.

“Yeah. We talked a few days ago.” I laid my fork down on my plate and patted my mouth with my napkin. “He joined a foraging club, so that’s how he’s spending his weekends lately.”

Eli’s dark brow pinched. “What’s he foraging for?”

“Morels and mushrooms. He’s out tromping through the woods, digging up mushrooms. It’s very on brand for my dad,” I explained.

Mom laughed softly, and I couldn’t miss the wistfulness in her eyes. “That sounds like Keith. I’m glad he’s found something he’s enjoying besides smoking and worrying.”

I wasn’t a kid who’d grown up with screaming matches and angry words. My parents had loved and respected each other. They were vastly different, but for a time at least, they relished each other’s differences. And then…well, everything fell apart.

“Wait,” Eli scratched his head, “are they, like, magic mushrooms?”

I snorted a laugh. “No, they’re really just regular mushrooms. Dad’s club tromps around the forest, picks mushrooms, then takes them back to someone’s house and they cook. It’s very wholesome, but I’m certain there’s copious weed and wine for the last part too.”

Eli chuckled. “That, I could be into.”

Mom slapped his huge arm. “Hey, dude, I’m not your mom, but I am mom, who doesn’t want to hear her teenage boy say stuff like that.”

Eli hung his head, but his eyes lit on me. “Sorry, not-mom.”

I snickered at his faux contrition. “You’re such a good boy, Eli.”

He made a ring with his fingers over his head. “See my halo? I’m an angel.”

Mom shook her head. “Oh my god, why did I always think I wanted to have two kids? I was very obviously mistaken.”

After breakfast, we wandered around Main Street, going in and out of shops. Mom bought both Eli and me a stack of books from the book shop. Once he had his, he found a bench to read on while we went into a clothing store. I kept catching sight of him through the window, and even though he was reading, there was something about the curl of his shoulders that filled me with worry. Since my mom was deep in conversation with the clerk without any sign of ending anytime soon, I went outside and sat beside my giant of a little stepbrother.

He looked up from his book when I patted his knee. “What’s the story, morning glory?” I asked.

His mouth quirked. “Don’t know. Why don’t you tell me the tale, nightingale?”

“How’s Max, Eli?”

My mom continued to be vague and cheerful when it came to her husband’s prognosis. She’d done the same thing when she and my dad were divorcing, so I didn’t trust anything out of her mouth when it came to big, potentially disastrous happenings. She did it to protect me, but I didn’t need protection, not in this case. I needed the truth.

With a heavy sigh, Eli closed his book and slid it back in his bag. “What’s your mom told you?”

“She’s remaining optimistic.” I flicked my hand toward the store I’d just come from. “You know her. She keeps it all tucked away until she can’t.”

He nodded, but his movements were sluggish, as if the burden he carried made his movements difficult.

“She’s taking really good care of him. My mom would have freaked out. I mean, she is freaking out and she kind of hates my dad, you know? But Felicity is so steady, all the time.”

“My mom’s good that way. She does better when she has a task to focus on.” I bumped his arm with my shoulder. “You didn’t answer my question, though. How’s Max?”

Bending forward, he clutched his head in his hands. “He’s sick. Really, really sick.”

I laid my hand on his back. “Is it the chemo? Is that making him sick?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. There was one morning Felicity had to run out to pick up a prescription so it was just me and my dad. He started gagging and coughing and couldn’t stop. I stood there, Zadie. I didn’t know what to do. My dad was doubled over, barely able to take in air, and I just stood there.” He choked out the last few words, and I heard his tears, even if he wouldn’t show me.

“Eli…he’s okay. He recovered from that incident, he doesn’t blame you, and I’m sure he hated you seeing him like that as much as you hated seeing it.”

“I should have helped him.”

“You will. Next time. You’ll be better prepared, right?”

The deep, mournful sob he let escape brought tears to my eyes. I laid my head on his shoulder, murmuring words of comfort, telling him it would be okay, that I would be there for him however he needed me. Keeping his face hidden, he swiped his tears away. Eli might have been a giant, but he was really just a kid, and this was a lot. Even if Max recovered, living through this illness, seeing his dad wasn’t invincible, would forever change Eli.

“I think he’s going to die, Zadie.”

“Babe…” My heart crammed in my throat. “Is that…? Mom said his prognosis is—”

“I don’t know what the doctors are saying. My dad is just…sometimes, I think he’s fading.” He got up from the bench and tore down the sidewalk, and I chased after him. I couldn’t leave him alone, not like this.

“Eli, stop!” I called. “Please, just wait for me.”

He slowed down enough for my short legs to catch up with him. I grabbed his forearm, tugging until he stopped. His cheeks were rosy. His eyes were watery and bloodshot.

“It’s okay to be scared,” I whispered.

He shook his head sharply. “Felicity and Dad don’t need to deal with my stuff on top of everything else.”

“Then call me. Text me. Ask Mom to drive you to see me. No matter what, I’m your big sister, and I’m here, okay? I really mean it.”

He stared at me for a long time, his eyes so wet, they drew my own tears to the surface. Then he let loose a pained exhale and wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand.

“If he dies, promise me you won’t go away.” His nose twitched, and he looked at the sidewalk. “Promise we’ll still be family.”

I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around him as tightly as I could. He curled around me, returning my hug with the same kind of fervor.

“I’m your . Your kids are going to be my nieces and nephews, and I expect you to be my kids’ favorite uncle. That doesn’t go away, no matter what.” I pinched the skin on his back. “I’m mad at you for asking me that.”

His laugh was closer to a sob, but that was okay. At least he was laughing and hugging me and not crying and running away.

Just as suddenly as I’d thrown myself at him, I was yanked backward, out of his arms, into the chest of someone else. My skin prickled when a low, menacing voice whispered in my ear.

“Zadie Night, you’ve been a bad, bad girl.”