Right as the phone started to ring, it occurred to me, very belatedly, that this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. They all thought I was dead. Or, missing, best-case scenario.
Guilt sat heavily on my chest. Yeah, I’d been acting under orders, keeping it a secret so that it wouldn’t jeopardize everything. But I wasn’t going to be able to explain that—or, anything really—to their satisfaction. My mom might understand, given her experience with both Jacobs and Laughlin, but that did not mean she wouldn’t be pissed, especially when she found out I’d stayed on voluntarily.
“Do you have any pull to stop this?” Ariane asked Justine quietly, as I counted off rings, imagining the phone on the kitchen wall echoing through a quiet and empty house.
Two…three…
My stomach clenched.
“Two separate departments, remember?” Justine said. “So, no, not without revealing our involvement.”
Four…Oh God, someone should have picked up by now.
“Hello?” My mom answered the phone, sounding wary.
I exhaled loudly in relief. “Mom.”
An audible gasp. “Who is this?” she demanded, her voice shrill.
I grimaced. “Mom, it’s me.”
Next to me, Ariane went very still.
“Do you think this is funny? To pretend to be my son?” she hissed.
“It’s me, Mom! I promise.” I closed my eyes, frantically searching for something to say that would prove it to her, something that would stop the pain and hurt in her voice. “When I was five, I got the Millennium Falcon for Christmas. But the decals, they were from the wrong box, some My Pretty, Pretty Princess or Barbie thing. And Quinn let me put all the stickers on before telling me.” Han Solo had had a glittery ride, despite my best efforts to peel everything off.
A woman in line peered through the bakery rack of to-go items to frown at me. Shit. I needed to remember to keep my voice down. I waved at the eavesdropping woman, and she flushed and turned her attention to her phone.
My mom choked on a sob. “Oh God, Zane, where are you?” She drew a ragged breath, one I could hear as clearly as if she were standing next to me. And the guilt in my chest increased until it felt like I couldn’t breathe.
“Are you okay? What happened? They couldn’t find you at the hospital, but—”
“Mom—”
“—I knew you had to be there. I saw you get shot.” Her voice broke. She was crying.
“Mom,” I tried again. “I’m okay, I promise. Please…please stop crying.” I winced at the jagged sounds from the other end of the phone. “I need you to listen to me. I only have a few minutes.”
“What?” She sounded confused, her voice thick and ragged. “What do you mean? What’s wrong?” Suspicion darkened her tone. “Just tell me where you are. We’ll come get you and—”
Oh boy. My mom wasn’t stupid; she was going to catch on quickly. “You’re there at the house,” I said. “Is Quinn there with you?”
“Quinn?” she asked, startled. “Yes, he’s here.”
“No, I mean, can you see him?” There was no way I was going to get by with that question, but I had to know. Before, when GTX had taken him, it had been days before we knew it because everyone simply assumed he was at school and doing his thing.
“Zane Alexander Bradshaw,” she said through clenched teeth.
I flinched
“You’re still mixed up in that mess, aren’t you?” she demanded.
“Mom, I can’t talk about it.” I fidgeted, refolding the napkin and pressing it against my nose. The bleeding was slowing now. “I just need to know if you’re all okay.”
“Zane, God, if I’d known what I was doing all those years ago, I never would have gotten involved. And I’m sorry that you were pulled into this. That was never my intention. But you are done now. You are coming home.” Her voice was iron, reflecting her will. If she could have reached through the phone and yanked me back to Wingate, she’d have done it.
I shifted my weight uneasily. “I can’t.”
“It’s because of that…girl. She’s with you?” Her tone was carefully neutral.
But that was enough to trigger my temper. I turned away from Ariane, even though I knew she’d be able to hear, anyway. “She’s not ‘that girl,’” I snapped. “Her name is Ariane. And my choices are mine.”
“You’re in over your head,” she said. “And you don’t know what you’re doing.”
I crumpled the bloodied napkin up, trying to find a clean side. If only she knew. But her dismissive tone set my teeth on edge. As if she’d done so much better?
“Mom. I just need to know if you guys are all right. People’s lives are at stake. Including mine,” I added, though I wasn’t sure if that would help or just make things worse.
“Quinn’s on the couch,” she said icily. “I can see him from here.”
“And Dad?” I pressed. I couldn’t imagine that they’d risk messing with him, but I had to know for sure.