Shards of My Heart (The Forgotten Ones Book 2)

by Nellie K Neves

It earns him a weak laugh before I let my shoulders fall in defeat. “I don’t have anything left to explain it to my almost four-year-old who doesn’t understand evil.” I run my hands over my face, digging my fingers into my hair to find it’s all a disaster. “And I’m wearing this stupid shirt, and my hair is— and you look amazing, like you always do. So yes, I’ve been crying all day. And I’m sorry I didn’t get your phone call because I really needed it. Hearing your voice would have made this that much more bearable.”

  “At least none of this is playing online tonight,” Zane says. “My golf cart attack video already has seven hundred thousand views. I’d hate to be upstaged by screaming woman with lizard.”

  I link my finger under my hair tie and pull until my hair falls around my shoulders. “You should go to Tabitha’s,” I tell Zane. “I’ve kept you long enough.”

  “I should, yes, but I’m still worried about you. I’m supposed to be learning empathy and how to take care of people. But so far, I only have experience with a plant and a fish, so I either need to give you food or clean water.”

  Something funny is supposed to go there, something about mixing up plant food or cleaning my bowl, because that’s the nature of our relationship. But those aren’t the words in my mind. I’m replaying what he said when he got here. They gave him his freedom, and he chose me.

  “What if I know what I need? And it’s not food, and it’s not water.” I say to him, but he doesn’t understand my reference.

  The first two steps are easy, the last four are harder because it puts me inside his bubble, and I don’t have my makeup brushes as an excuse to be there. Biting my lip and drawing it into my mouth, I run my fingers over his brow, down his cheek, brush the stubble that needs trimming tomorrow at work, and stop at his lips. I’ve touched most of his face, but other than a brush, I’ve left his lips alone. Air draws over my skin as he inhales quickly. His right hand hovers over my hip, but he dares not touch me and returns his grip to the counter edge to keep his balance. Muscles twitch in his brow, under his eyes, carefully watching me with strict fascination.

  “Finley, what are you—” but I press my finger against his lips to stop him. I haven’t had anyone since Todd, not serious or casual. I lean forward, testing the air, testing my strength as to what I’ll tolerate. My palm slips over his jaw, catching on the hair, but bringing his eyes closed like it always does.

  “Now who’s torturing who?” Zane whispers. But my lips are against his before he can speak again. It’s innocent, like a first kiss should be. Seven seconds of my lips on his before I pull away, but not far enough that I can’t feel his breath flash over my skin. Still standing, not destroyed like I always assumed I would be, I wet my lips and kiss him again, longer this time, capturing his bottom lip between mine for a second before I reverse.

  Zane swallows hard, still gripping the counter behind him. It’s five seconds before he opens his eyes to stare at me with incredulous wonder. “Why would you? What was?” He must remember our moment in the car because he asks, “What’d that kiss mean, Finley?”

  I can’t look at him when we talk like this. I turn away and stare at the floor, arms crossed over my chest, so I don’t feel so vulnerable. “I thought you needed a reward. You chose me first when you got freedom. And you got rid of the lizard. And you never said I looked crazy or told me to shut up or stop freaking out. You see me, Zane, and I think you’re the first one to do that.”

  He could say something funny too, but like me, he doesn’t.

  “I want to kiss you, Finn.”

  “Didn’t we just do that?”

  “No, you kissed me. This would be different.”

  “Why?”

  “Because this would be giving me control. This is telling me you trust me.”

  Those words drive panic in my heart. I don’t trust anyone. But staring at him, has he ever given me any reason not to trust him? Is it fair to judge him for his past when he doesn’t hold me responsible for mine?

  “Can I kiss you, Finley?”

  “Yes,” I say because though it’s not complete, I do trust him.

  Zane closes the space between us, captures my waist in his arm, drives his other hand into my hair, and presses his lips to mine. Lights flash behind my eyes, not white like pain, but explosions like fireworks. They spread into my veins and send me soaring. My hands slide along the slick fabric of his coat until I catch his lapels and ground myself. His head twists as he kisses me again, deeper, capturing my lips as his own. When he pulls back, our chests rise and fall together, one breath, one heartbeat.

  “We probably shouldn’t have done that,” I whisper against his cheek.

  Zane trembles at the sensation. “We’re well over halfway done with the movie. We can keep this under wraps until then.”

  “You don’t need a ride anymore. I’m not going to see you as much now that you have your license.”

  Zane kisses me again, firmly, as if he has something to prove. “I don’t know what gave you that idea. Now I have the freedom to see you whenever I want to. You may never be rid of me, Finn.”

  “You need to go, don’t you?”

  “Twenty minutes ago, but I don’t want to leave now. This movie is getting to the good part.”

  My smile mirrors his. He kisses me once more before he lets go and backs away. “I might not ask in the future,” his keys jingle in his hand, “I might just kiss you. Is that okay?”

  I taste peppermint on my lips still, some gum he must have spit out before he walked through the door. It’s beyond my control to stop tasting them or reveling in this giddy feeling burbling up in my heart.

  “That’s fine,” I say, and for once I mean it without the second meaning.

  Chapter 12

  I hate the new pieces we’re shooting. Since we’re getting to the final scenes, Jay has me lightening the scars, and keeping Zane clean shaven. But that’s not what bothers me. It’s take after take after take of watching Zane kiss Tabitha.

  I get it, it’s not Zane, and it’s not Tabitha.

  It’s Paxton and Marina.

  But it’s hard to remember that sometimes because he sure looks like Zane. It looks like he’s kissing like Zane. As if to add insult to injury, I have to fix Tabitha’s lipstick between every scene. She’s making out with the guy I’m interested in, and I have to fix her makeup. Really? How is this fair?

  It doesn’t help either that Jay is never satisfied. One kiss is too sloppy, the next is too dry. Hand placement. Passion. You name it, they’ve done it wrong. Five seconds in and the words, “Stop! Cut film!” blast over the set. They reset and have to go again, twisting and driving the dagger deeper into my heart.

  “Tab,” Jay yells, “where’s the chemistry? Make me believe it.”

  She yells something back at Jay, but I’m not listening because Zane is mouthing the words, “I wish it was you,” to me and all is forgiven.

  “Okay, do that then.” Jay turns to the rest of us. “While they practice, you all take a half hour. Get something to eat. We’ll be back in thirty.”

  Zane looks as confused as I feel, but it’s not hard to figure out as Tabitha takes his arm and pulls him off to her trailer. My life just got even better. The guy I like has to go practice making out until he gets good at it.

  No, that won’t give me a complex, said no woman ever.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  “I don’t know if he’s going to make it,” I say to Oliver. “There was a lot of work to get done, and he might not be able to get away.”

  “But he pwomised,” Oliver says.

  “I know,” I say. Tuesday morning came and went without being able to talk to Zane hardly at all. Jay has him tethered to Tabitha in hopes that they’ll bond and create some chemistry, but that means our personal relationship is on the back burner. Last I heard, there was a late meeting for the cast, and Oliver’s party doesn’t rank that high, I’m sure of it. Truth is, I’ve been preparing for this moment, knowing the end would come. Curtains have
to draw eventually, and it’s not like we were committed, just three fabulous kisses. I know that’s not worth much to someone of Hollywood’s standard.

  “Well, I’ll be bummed if he can’t make it,” Mona says as she finishes the cake for Oliver. “Cecelia, he never mentioned anything to you?”

  More tightlipped than ever, Cecelia shrugs. “He lives with us. It doesn’t mean he shares every word.”

  “Either way, you’ve got a house full of people who love you, and a table with presents.” I hug Oliver close to me. “Plus, Gramma’s cake.”

  Sugar fixes everything. At least that’s what I hope. Maybe one day I can throw him a party with friends and games, but for now this will have to do.

  The doorbell rings and Cecelia brightens. “I bet that’s Ester. I’ll get it.”

  Mona strikes a match and the flame illuminates the circus animals she’s piped onto the cake with buttercream. Of course, he wanted a monkey theme. Ever since that movie, he’s been obsessed.

  “Well, hello!” Cecelia says from the front door. An odd greeting in far too loud of a voice. “Oliver, there’s a special guest here to see you.”

  My son’s face brightens to sheer delight as I take his hand and lead him to the door. There, posed in the doorway, is Zane Alexander dressed in Gregory McMellon’s final zoo worker’s outfit.

  “Zane!” Oliver yells as he throws his arms around Zane’s legs. “You came!”

  “I think you’re mistaken ol’ chap,” Zane says in his Gregory voice, “I’m Gregory McMellon, and I’ve brought a few friends who want to say happy birthday.”

  As if on rehearsed cue, all of Oliver’s friends from preschool jump out and yell, “Surprise!”

  Mindy, a sweet red headed girl grabs Oliver’s hand and says, “There’s an elephant in your driveway!”

  My eyes widen as I see it, not just an elephant, but two zebras, what looks like a python, and unless I’m wrong, Gongo himself. Zane watches Oliver run straight for the monkey and laughs when Gongo, or rather Roscoe, jumps into his arms like they’re old friends.

  “How’d you do this?” I ask him. “I thought you were broke.”

  “I am broke,” Zane assures me, “but I can still cash in favors. I barely had time to get it in motion, but Roscoe is headed up north for a new movie, and it lined up perfectly.”

  “How am I going to feed these kids though,” I ask him. “I’ve only made a small cake for us, and you’ve brought half the circus.”

  Zane motions with his head for the back of an SUV, “I brought the leftover food from set today. With the short day, a ton was left over. No one cared.” His hand catches mine and gives it a squeeze. “I wanted to see you smile, and nothing makes you smile more than seeing Oliver happy.”

  Thank you doesn’t feel like enough. Especially as Oliver’s laughter lights up the air and curls around me like a hug. He’s right, nothing makes me happy like seeing my son’s dreams come true.

  I help Zane move the food inside, set it up on the table, and give Cecelia permission to refill and guard as needed. I’m about to go back out to the party when Zane nods to the back door. “I have one more thing out back,” he says. “Can you help me?”

  We’re cautious not to hold hands as we walk, despite the need I feel building inside me. We haven’t been alone since the last time he was here. I follow him out the door, careful to close it behind me. His grin is mischievous as we turn the corner to the back of the garage. With one look to the right and the left, Zane captures my waist and pulls me close.

  “I don’t have a surprise, but I wanted to be alone for a second. I miss you, Finn.”

  “It’s only been three days,” I remind him as if it’s important, but he’s already shaking his head.

  “I can’t stop thinking about that kiss.”

  I set my finger against his lips and cock an eyebrow. “Did you at least brush your teeth after work?”

  He knows I don’t care about his hygiene, but I care about sharing Tabitha’s spit.

  “Twice,” he says even with my finger still in place, “plus mouthwash four times.”

  I catch my lip, and Zane groans in desperation.

  “I hate watching you two,” I tell him, feeling the need to speak my mind. “I hate knowing what you’re doing in her trailer.”

  Zane shakes my finger free so he can talk. “I hate it too. I want to be with you.”

  Laughter still floats on the air, and it’s impossible to stay angry with him, at least not fully. I lean closer, and it’s all the permission he needs. Once more I’m caught up in his spell. His grip tightens on my waist as he deepens the kiss. I’m tucked close to him, pressure keeping me there before he’s willing to let his hands wander the breadth of my back.

  “Say it again,” I whisper against his mouth between gasps of air.

  “Say what?” he asks before he dives into my kiss again. His forehead presses against mine as he stops to catch his breath. “Tell me, and I’ll say it. You have me by the nose, Finn. I’m yours.”

  The words thrill me on their own, and my head rocks back. Zane spreads kisses along my jaw, down my neck, over the scars of past abuse, making them new and fresh with affection and devotion.

  “Tell me you want to be with me.”

  “That’s why this is taking forever,” he says against my neck. I tremble and feel his smile. “I can’t get the scene right because all I think about is you, and I hold back. If I could do the scene with you, we’d be done by the end of tomorrow.”

  He captures my face between his palms again and kisses me hard. Every part of me lights up like a slot machine on triple sevens. My arms curls around his neck and tightens until there’s no space between us. Curving my fingers into his hair, they glide through something slippery. I pull back hard, twisting until I can see the side of his head.

  “What’s in your hair?” I rub the substance between my fingers, tacky and slick.

  Zane groans. “That monkey hates me. He chucked a banana at my head about two seconds after he recognized me.”

  “I guess you should be glad it was just a banana,” I tease.

  He’s watching me, content that I’ll meet his gaze. He’s probably counting, and I will myself to give him more than eight seconds.

  “I’m crazy about you,” he tells me. “Head over heels crazy about you.”

  “The feeling is mutual.”

  “We need to get back to the party,” Zane says, while putting space between us. “I don’t want you to miss anything.”

  Oliver comes first. He understands that somehow, even encourages it. I move to start, but he catches my hand to keep me there.

  “I want to take you out on a real date.”

  “We can’t,” I remind him. “Jay won’t fire you, but I’ll be gone in a heartbeat.”

  “I know,” he says, “but there’s a cast party coming up in a couple days. I told Jay you deserved to be there, and he agreed. Will you come with me? Even if no one knows we’re there together?”

  It’s dangerous, certainly taking a risk, but at the same time. I need this, don’t I? Isn’t that what I figured out? I need to spend more time working towards a future.

  “I’ll ask Mona,” I say, and it’s enough, because Zane knows she’d move heaven and earth to see me happy.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  “Grab that bag of manure, would you?” Ester calls to me from across the nursery. “Or have you gotten too good to be hauling around all this—”

  “Fertilizer,” Cecelia says over the top of her. “Try to be a lady, would you Ester?”

  “Never been accused of that in my whole life,” Ester retorts, accent thicker than ever. “Second thought, I’ll grab that manure. Finley, you haul those two bags of gravel out front in that wheelbarrow. I ain’t got it in me no more.”

  “Well, you’re nearly seventy-three,” I say as I take hold of the bars on the cart and lift.

  “Stop tellin’ those lies,” Ester says as she flips the bag of manure over her shoulde
r, “ain’t a day over forty-one and best you remember it.”

  That brings on the laughter, and I’m still smiling as I turn the corner to the front of the building with the gravel.

  A male voice catches me off guard. “Lovely smile on you, Finley.”

  I look up from my work to find Anton and Jay waiting by an SUV.

  Worlds collide and all that.

  “Thanks,” I say, but it sounds more like a question since it’s full of distrust.

  “I thought we might run into you,” Jay says as I load the gravel into the back of his SUV. “Zane said you’re coming to the cast party.”

  “I might stop by, if I can get a babysitter,” I tell him before I flop the final bag in the back.

  “Makes me want to change my plans,” Jay says almost as if he’s talking to himself. “I have to be in LA to discuss funding that day. I won’t be back in time, but I’m considering an early flight to see you all gussied up.”

  It’s something we say as locals, and I know technically he’s a local, but it sounds forced as if he’s trying to prove something.

  “Okay,” I say, because I don’t know what he’s looking for. Am I supposed to beg him to show up so that I can have the pleasure of him ogling my body?

  No, thank you.

  “Maybe I can take you out to dinner instead,” Jay says as he slips closer.

  I slam the back of the SUV, narrowly missing his head. “What about your rules?”

  “It wouldn’t be a date,” Jay says. “Rather a meeting to discuss your future. We can talk about your portfolio, how to sell your,” I don’t miss the way his eyes travel the length of my body before he says, “assets.”

  Personally, I’m relieved Jay won’t be at the party. If he were going, I think I’d have to pass.

  “You’re all packed up.” I pat the back window twice. “I’ll see you on set tomorrow.”

  “Consider what I asked you,” Jay calls after me as I push the wheelbarrow back around the corner.

  I don’t need to consider it. The guy is a slime ball.

  “I saw the studio emblem on the side of that car, was it someone you knew?” Cecelia asks as I park the wheelbarrow and return to my work watering the new seedlings.