Page 121 of Wild Child


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CHAPTER41

ZEKE

I’mup earlier than usual because I haven’t slept a fucking second.

Nova is still curled into my chest. She finally fell asleep not too long ago. My whole body is wracked with nervous energy jolting through my limbs, making me want to move. To jump up and run. Who fucking knows where or to what end? I’ve never felt so useless, restless, and straight-up miserable. My head pounds, and even with an entire night of plotting and planning, I just can’t figure out how to fix this.

Figgy jumps up onto the bed and crawls onto my chest, looking down at me. His big, green eyes are finally free of distrust, and they’re boring into me like I should know what to do. Of course, the damn cat trusts me now. He decides now that maybe I’m not the worst of all the options.

I scratch him under the chin and realize this is the first time he’s ever let me pet him. “I don’t know what to do, Fig,” I whisper, and he stretches out, digging his claws into my bare skin. I wince and rub my chest as he moves to the pillow by Nova’s head as if to release me from my watch duty. He’s taking over keeping an eye on her.

At least we have that in common. We love her.

I sit on the edge of the bed, and my forehead falls to my palms. I love her.

Everything in me wrestles with the idea of letting her go. I get it about the photo. I get that she’s the whore and I’m the stud, or that’s how all the assholes out there will see it. I get that it’s not forever. I understand on an intellectual level, but on a molecular level, I fucking hate it. I just want to claim her and protect her and shield her. I want to find this fucker and break their bones.

It's impossible to shake the violence from my thoughts, and I stretch my tense shoulders as I stand, fighting the nerves that know in a few hours, she’ll be gone.

I pull on a pair of sweats and head out to start the coffee.

Using the heels of my hands, I scrub my face on the way to the kitchen to stop the sting of pain behind my eyes.

“Morning,” Dru says with her phone in front of her face, and I startle, mumbling under my breath.

She slides a cup of coffee my way, and I raise an eyebrow at her.

“I’m not used to the time change.” She takes a sip, her blue eyes piercing me with their familiarity.

“Right,” I say, taking a sip of the coffee that’s way too strong. Nova makes it better.

I sit at the stool and pull out my phone. Figgy curls around my foot, nudging his nose into my leg until I reach down and scoop him up. The cat stares untrustingly at Dru, and that’s one more thing me and the creature have in common.

“Listen, Zeke.” Dru uses a similar voice to Xan when he’s disappointed. It must be a trait of way older siblings. I keep scrolling through my phone and scratching Figgy’s ears. “I know you hate me.”

This gets my attention, but I don’t respond—just look up, curious as to what she’s going to say. She’s leaning on the counter, maintaining an uncomfortable level of eye contact. Figgy bumps my hand because I’ve stopped petting him, so I scratch under his chin with one finger.

“But Nova is my sister, and I know her. This life isn’t going to be enough for her, and you know it. She told me you know about everything. Our family. My mama’s label. Her YouTube channel debacle. The press.”

“The stalking,” I deadpan, and Dru’s eye twitches so slightly I’d have missed it if I weren’t engaged in a death glare.

“And that’s why I’m here. To protect my sister.” She sets her phone down on the counter and folds her arms across her chest.

“Sure, you are.” I take a big gulp of coffee.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m sorry, how long have you been in town? And how convenient you show up when Nova finds out she’s being deported? It seems like maybe you knew something about that already.”

Dru’s eyes flash with rage, and she twitches, coming up with her excuse, I’m sure.

Just then, the door to the bedroom opens, and Nova enters the room—more like waddles, the way her stomach is growing. Her hair is smoothed out in a ponytail, and I’m pretty sure she has mascara on. She doesn’t look like her usual self, waking up with hair frizzed out and scrubbing sleep from her eyes. She’s also in a tight-knit sweater and patterned blue leggings instead of her usual sweats and t-shirt.

She’s doing this because of Dru, and I clench my jaw to not say something stupid. I’m way too rattled to trust my mouth right now. I’d say anything to get her to stay, and I know myself well enough that whatever I say will just piss her off. I can’t have her mad at me when she leaves.

My chest crushes in at the thought.

She comes straight to me because it’s a habit now. This is what we do in the morning and has been since I started reading books to her belly. The day she kissed me for the first time, intentionally.

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