Keep (Seaside Pictures Book 2)

by Rachel Van Dyken

  Zane still wasn’t back.

  And I probably needed to go to my own house, the whole I’m staying over with Mags probably wasn’t going to work every night this week, though I was going to at least try to sneak in one more night—the night he finished recording.

  I looked down at my phone and sighed.

  Fallon: Hey, how’s the song going?

  Nothing.

  I texted again an hour later.

  Maybe he was just in the zone. He was an artist, I could understand how he would be in a creative process that he didn’t want to jinx.

  The eleven o’clock news turned on.

  “Breaking story out of Seaside Oregon, it seems like vesting celebrity Saint, has been rushed to the hospital for exhaustion, this was shortly after being approached by media about reports referencing his virginity and a certain local girl, Fallon Miller. No details have been released yet by his team, but we hope everything is okay.”

  Stunned. I blinked at the TV screen, tears pooling in my eyes.

  Had Mags said something?

  My phone rang.

  “It wasn’t me! I swear I would never say anything!” Mags sobbed into the phone. “I swear, I love you guys I would never—”

  “He’s in the hospital,” I whispered hoarsely. “Is he okay? Has the news said anything else?”

  She paused. “You weren’t with him?”

  “NO!” I yelled, getting more and more terrified by the minute. “I was at the penthouse waiting for him.”

  “Then go!”

  “Go.” I mimicked. “Right. I need to.” This was not the time to hyperventilate. I needed to go to him. To see if he was okay. To explain it wasn’t me, to tell him how I felt about him. I needed to go.

  “Hospital.” I choked out. “I’m going to the hospital.”

  “I’ll meet you there.” The phone went dead.

  How would I even get past security? For all I knew, he hated me right now. His whole team probably hated me.

  I jerked open the door to the penthouse and came face to face with Jaymeson.

  “I warned you.” He took a menacing step inside, his normal happy demeanor completely void of any sort of positive energy. “I told you what I would do if you hurt him.”

  “Jaymeson!” Wet tears streamed down my face. “I swear, I didn’t say anything! I would never go to the media, he’s more than just my friend I-l—”

  “Don’t.” He yelled his British accent suddenly more terrifying than endearing. “Don’t say you love him, you don’t even know him!”

  “He told me!” I swallowed back thick tears. “Everything! I know him, okay? I KNOW HIM!”

  “No.” Jaymeson’s voice softened. “You know what he allows you to know.”

  My heart twisted in my chest as Alec and Demetri wandered into the room, both of their expressions sad.

  “Whatever.” I tried shoving past Jaymeson. “I’m going to the hospital.”

  “The hell you are!” Jaymeson was back to yelling, this time reaching for my arm just before Demetri stepped between us.

  His cool blue eyes met mine. “I’ll take her.”

  “She did this to him!” Jaymeson lunged for me again.

  “Did what!” I sobbed. “I don’t even know what’s going on, just that he’s being treated for exhaustion.”

  “He could be dead.” The fight left Jaymeson, the anger. I wanted it back, all of it, because at least then I knew everything would be okay, but hearing those words, from him, in such a defeated way, chilled me, only to break me into tiny little unrecognizable pieces as my stomach dropped with fear.

  “You’re lying.”

  “He’s not.” Demetri wrapped an arm around me. “Come on, I’ll take you, none of us know anything yet, but Will wanted you out of the penthouse since people have been camped out at your house all day.”

  And suddenly I was just like Zane.

  Homeless.

  Lost.

  Afraid.

  I needed to talk to him, to explain to him that I cared for him, that I would never betray him—but it seemed it was more about my own guilt at what happened because apparently the only boy I ever wanted to sleep with ever again—was fighting for his life.

  And had failed to tell me why.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Zane

  I WAS NUMB.

  I felt numb.

  Maybe it was emotional numbness, like when news hits you so hard you have no choice but to deny the fact that you have feelings—I wish.

  “Here,” Will tossed me a bag of marshmallows.

  “No thanks.” I grumbled shoving them off the bed and onto the floor, they reminded me of her, of the pain I felt at finding out that she wasn’t who I thought she was.

  I’d given her everything.

  Except for one thing—the one thing that could potentially hurt her, hurt us.

  I refused to feel guilty for keeping one secret.

  The pounding in my head had died down the minute they gave me an IV of fluids, but it was still there.

  As was the fear that this was something bigger.

  Something I couldn’t control.

  “We’ll get news soon,” Will said in a hollow voice. “It’s going to be fine, Zane. You can afford the best doctors in the world, it’s not like this is the end, it’s probably just exhaustion.”

  “Great. I’m one of those. My relationship is getting splashed all over the world, #virginwatch is a trending topic along with #saintorsinner and we’re sitting in a freaking hospital room talking about a possible aneurysm that could literally tear and kill me at any given second, and exhaustion is what we tell people.”

  “Would you rather tell them the truth?”

  “The truth,” I whispered, “Sucks.”

  “This is the part where I tell you, you should have come clean.”

  I burst out laughing. It was ugly, not my usual laugh. It felt wrong. I didn’t laugh like that, not me. “So, open up my soul to the one girl capable of stealing it? Hand over my heart to the only one who can both keep and break it?”

  Will’s eyes widened.

  I frowned when he stood, grabbed my guitar, handed it to me, and walked out of the room.

  My hands shook as I slowly started strumming a few different chords and paired them with the words I’d just said to my agent.

  It wasn’t a ballad.

  It wasn’t a love song.

  It was ugly.

  It was truth.

  Some of the prettiest songs are lies—the real ones, never get Grammys, never hit the Billboard number one spot, because they cause too much self-reflection.

  And nobody wants to admit to the ugly.

  Nobody.

  But I did.

  I’d admit it.

  I’d confess how dark my past was, I’d confess how she brought me into a light I didn’t see possible, how the pleasure with her went beyond anything I’d ever experienced—surpassing my wildest imaginations.

  The first verse would be the pain.

  The second verse would be the cure.

  The third would be the repercussions of trusting in imperfection to make you feel whole.

  Because that’s what life was about.

  Trusting the wrong things—in order to lead you down the path to the right things.

  My head still throbbed, but as my hands plucked the strings, as I wrote down different lyrics.

  I felt a bit freer.

  A bit happier.

  Even if my heart was still breaking.

  Because I’d given her everything—right?

  “Hey,” Jay’s voice interrupted the last chorus as he knocked on the already open door then let himself in. “Any reason the nurses outside are all sobbing like you just had a puppy sacrifice in this room? Because I can come back if this is a bad time.”

  “Puppy sacrifice.” I grinned. “There’s a thought. Think we can roast mallows?”

  “Too far.” Jay grimaced.

  “Says the one with
a wild enough imagination to come up with heathen sacrifices of small dogs.”

  He grinned and took a seat. “So, not dead yet?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I yelled at her,” he confessed. “I told her she couldn’t visit you.”

  My heart didn’t know how to take that. I think in that moment it was so confused and upset that it simply just went to sleep for a bit, its slow rhythm reminding me that blood was still pumping, but that a part of it, wasn’t so sure it wanted to keep up the charade.

  “What did she say?” I whispered.

  “She tried to hit me, sobbed her eyes out, kept saying it wasn’t her, nearly collapsed against Demetri, then charged me again. Then he tossed her over his shoulder and carried her into his waiting Mercedes where she’s been ever since.”

  “In his car?” I asked confused. “Why?”

  “She refused to get out until she could see you.”

  I smiled at that.

  “Sobbing either means she’s not guilty or a good actress,” Jaymeson said in a soft voice. “I don’t know what to believe. I don’t know her well enough, but this isn’t the time for broken hearts, not when your brain needs all the help it can get.”

  “I didn’t tell her.”

  “No,” he said in a dry tone. “Really? Shocked.”

  “It would have freaked her out.”

  “It freaks me out.” He scooted his chair closer. “Do you even realize how hard it’s been? Keeping this secret? Like you’re here for vacation when I know my house is the last house you may live in before surgery? That each moment you and I hang out, you could drop dead, do you think I enjoyed watching you hole up in the darkness every single day letting the anxiety get worse and worse? Shit, man, seriously?”

  “I’m sorry.” I put my guitar down on the bed and cursed for a few minutes before regaining my composure. “When I called, I just needed to escape, the album wasn’t coming along like I needed. I didn’t sleep because I was afraid I wouldn’t wake up. The anxiety was hell, probably because it was getting snowballed by the whole impending death thing….”

  Jaymeson sighed and reached down for the bag of marshmallows.

  “What are you doing?” I frowned.

  “Trying to de-stress…Zane style.” Jay popped two in his mouth and chewed. “It’s not working.”

  “Let her in.”

  “What?” A piece of half-eaten marshmallow tumbled out of his mouth. “She could be a lying treacherous bitch, and you want to let her in? On potentially the last night before brain surgery? Are you insane?”

  I sighed. “Maybe. I don’t know. I just…I need to hear it from her. I need to see her say it wasn’t her, see her face you know? If it was her, I’ll know.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Yes.” No. I just…I’d come to rely on my friend, on my other person, the one who promised to keep me no matter what the circumstances.

  But more than that, her arms were my security, her words a blanket.

  Which meant I needed to end things.

  What was done was done.

  It wasn’t fair to her—to kiss her today—to fail her tomorrow.

  To take everything.

  To give all.

  And have an unhappy ending.

  It wasn’t fair.

  And I would be damned before I let her suffer with guilt and anxiety the way I had for most of my life—over something she had no control over.

  Yes, she might have betrayed me.

  But I was the guilty party.

  Because when she said thank you for telling me everything.

  I had remained silent.

  Silence was the devil.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Fallon

  “HE DOESN’T MEAN IT.”

  “He’s harmless.”

  “He’s British.”

  All the things Demetri kept repeating over and over and over again, until finally, I glared at him and shakily grabbed my phone sending Zane another text.

  I had no idea if he even had his phone.

  But I had to try.

  Mags was in the back of the car probably having a minor breakdown that she was with one of the members of AD2 while I was just so worried about Zane, I felt sick to my stomach.

  Fallon: Are you okay? Zane, I swear, I would never, ever do anything like this to you.

  Fallon: Zane! Please. I know I’m acting crazy, but I need to know you’re okay, that you’re breathing. Just, send me something. I don’t care if it’s mean.

  Fallon: I would never betray you.

  While sending the last text, a knock sounded on our window. It was Jaymeson, and his expression was angry. At least angry is better than sad. I could deal with angry.

  “He’s okay.” I said it as a statement, hoping he’d confirm.

  Jay jabbed his finger at me. “Hurt him, and I’ll use his cell phone, find that stupid cousin he claims has connections to the mafia, and pay them to make you disappear.”

  Demetri let out a low whistle.

  “Demetri, watch Mags while I take her in.”

  Mags nodded encouragingly while Demetri tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “At least our boy is still alive.”

  My stomach dropped to my feet when Jaymeson whispered. “Maybe not for long.”

  Our walk was tense, silent, chilly.

  I hated every minute of it.

  When we got to the hospital room, Jaymeson stopped and opened the door. “I meant what I said.”

  “I did too.”

  It was a stare down.

  Finally, Jay sighed and hung his head, “Be good to him, Fallon.”

  With jerky yet numb steps, I went farther into the room as the door clicked behind me, and gasped as Zane looked up at me through pain-filled eyes.

  Something was wrong.

  Something was very, very wrong.

  “Zane…” Tears welled. “I’m so so so—“ I choked on the last word and then reached out my hands, not really sure what to do.

  He held up his phone. “I know.”

  “No, I didn’t do it, I swear. I have no idea, I mean, I kind of have an idea, I was talking to Mags, defending you. We were in a coffee shop, and all I said was that you hadn’t slept with anyone, that she shouldn’t talk about you that way. I never came out and said anything, but I was so mad, and I should have told you the moment I happened—”

  “Coming to the damsel’s defense.” His smile was weak. “About damn time, Fallon.”

  “I wanted to try being the prince for once.”

  “How’d that work out for you?”

  “Bad.” I sniffled. “Really, horribly bad.”

  “I’ll say.”

  I sat on his bed and held my hands, twisting them together. “She would never say anything, I don’t know how anyone could possibly have found out, and Jay’s pissed, blaming me.”

  “Cameras with sound.” Zane sighed.

  “What?”

  His smile still looked pained. “The story was leaked by the store owner. He asked for a hundred grand for it.”

  “WHAT!” I yelled. “Who does that?”

  His eyes locked on mine with a desperation I’d never seen before in another person. “Sick people. Ones who see a quick way to make money.”

  I hung my head, guilt making my shoulders heavy. “Still, I shouldn’t have been talking about it.”

  “You mean, defending my honor?”

  I nodded.

  “It’s okay.” His voice was hoarse. “It’s fine.” He was too dismissive of the entire thing.

  “It’s not okay, but I’m glad you know it wasn’t me, that I would never do that to you.” I reached for his hand.

  He jerked back.

  His expression the same, sad, desolate thing, it had been when I walked in.

  “It’s not exhaustion is it?” My voice was wobbly, uneven, like I wasn’t sure of the words, like I didn’t know my own language.

  He swallowed and shook his head.


  “Are you going to be okay?”

  He shrugged.

  “Zane…” I went from being unsure to pleading. “Please, just…tell me, tell me you’re going to be okay, and that it’s just a freak accident, like being dehydrated or going without marshmallows for too long.”

  He cracked a smile. “Remember the nervous breakdown everyone thought I had? When I got my concussion?”

  I didn’t like where this was going. “Yeah.”

  “I had a CT scan, typical when you have a concussion. They found something, they sent for another test, then another, then another.” My skin went cold. “I have an aneurysm, one that the doctors aren’t sure will heal on its own or need to be removed. It’s in a place where they are about eighty percent confident they can clip the thing without killing me, if need be.”

  I reached for his hand again, this time, he held it, too scared to be upset that he hadn’t told me. “Did it dissolve?”

  His voice was a whisper. “No.”

  “Is it…leaking?”

  “Not yet.”

  “So…you have to have surgery?”

  “I’m waiting to find out.”

  “What’s there to find out?” I jumped to my feet. “If they can fix it, they need to fix it!”

  “Let me see…” Zane sighed. “Ticking time bomb or Russian Roulette?”

  “Stop smiling!” My voice caught in my throat. “This isn’t funny! This can’t be solved by marshmallows or being naked.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “No?”

  “No!” I yelled. “It’s…this is bad.” I paced the room. “Did we call all the best doctors? Do you have them flying in? Are you going somewhere for the surgery? Can you even fly?”

  “We?”

  “Stop fixating on the stupid things!” I clenched my hands together. “Of course we’re a we. I’m keeping you, you promised.” Tears welled in my eyes threatening to spill over onto my cheeks. “You”—my chest felt heavy—“promised.”

  Zane held open his arms. I crawled into them, ducking my head against his chest while he ran his hands along my bare skin.

  “I want you to go,” he whispered, and I tensed. “You’ve kept me. I’ve kept you. Now it’s time for you to move on, Fallon. Not because I don’t want to live in a world where an us exists, but because I can’t stand the idea of that world being shattered by a freak accident like my death. I refuse to go into surgery if you stay because I know you. I know you, Fallon. You’ll make me promises, you’ll refuse to leave my bedside. If I’m not okay, if I wake up, and I’m not the same, you’ll be stuck with this worship of the man I was, and that’s not fair to you.” He subjected me to an intense stare. “Or to me. So I want you to kiss me, I want you to kiss me so hard you can’t breathe, and then I want you to walk out of this room and go to college. I want you to outsmart every guy you meet, I want you to experience life to the fullest. I want that future for you, especially now that mine is so uncertain. Can you do that for me?”