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Foster caresses my hair. “I thought you were tired?”
“I’m worried. The closer to New York we get, the closer we are to facing the music.”
“We’ll do it together. First stop, Zane’s apartment.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“He’s pissed, and I’m not sure what he’ll do if we show up unannounced.”
“How do you want to handle it?”
“We should call him first,” I strategize, “Once I smooth over my lack of communication, then we can discuss getting together.”
Foster shakes his head, refusing. “I still think the element of surprise is better.”
“You don’t know Zane the way I do. He’ll explode and ask questions later.”
“Even with Lana around?”
“Especially with Lana around. He’s in protective mode.”
“Let’s try at least. What’s the worst he can do?”
The worst Zane can do is punch Foster in the stomach as he enters the apartment. My husband is thrown into the wall, and as I scramble to get between them, my brother’s next punch lands against my jaw. The flash of heat and pain drops me, and I see stars.
“Fucking asshole!” Zane screams. “You see what you did?”
I moan as Foster kneels next to me, cradling my body in his arms. I’m vaguely aware of Lana yelling at Zane to stop. After some time, when I can focus, all three are on the floor trying to soothe me.
“I’m so sorry, Paige,” Zane apologizes as he rubs my arm.
He looks concerned, but I tell him, “You didn’t give us a chance.”
Lana runs her fingers over my jaw, making me wince as pain shoot through my head. “You need some ice.”
Foster kisses the top of my head and gets up so he can carry me to the couch. I touch my hands to my temples as pain radiates from my jaw.
“We should take you to the hospital,” Foster says.
Zane pushes him away from me. “This is your fault! What the hell are you doing with her?”
Lana grabs my brother’s arm and firmly commands, “Stop it already. I think we’ve had enough excitement around here for one night. At least you didn’t wake the boys up with your schoolyard brawl.”
Foster sits next to me and holds the bag of ice that Lana gave him to my jaw. I flinch as the cold touches my skin.
“I think it’s going to bruise,” he comments.
“It’s your fault,” Zane repeats heatedly.
“Stop blaming Foster.”
“I’m confused as to why you’re with him.”
“I love him, and he’s my husband.”
Lana forces Zane over to the loveseat opposite where Foster and I are. He plops down in a huff and rakes his hands through his hair several times.
