The Nerd Who Stole The Quarterback (Astra and Zayne) novel Chapter 186

12:03 Thu, Aug 13

The Nerd Who Stole The Quarterback

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The surprise in her voice got under my skin. Like there had ever been a chance of me leaving after she’d asked me to stay.

“You asked me to.”

“Until I fell asleep, Zane. I meant maybe twenty minutes.”

“I took some liberties with the instructions.”

A small smile touched her mouth, but it didn’t last. She studied me more closely.

“You didn’t sleep, did you?”

“Enough.”

“That means no.”

“It means you worry too much.”

Her expression told me exactly what she thought of that answer, but before she could push further something else occurred to her.

“Mr. Ashton. How is he?”

Of course. Barely awake and Dad was already on her mind.

“He’s okay. Mom’s been sending updates all morning. He’s awake, stable, and giving the hospital staff enough trouble that I assume he’ll survive.”

Relief washed over her face. “Can we see him?”

“We.”

Interesting how quickly I could get used to hearing her include herself with me.

“He asked for me earlier.”

Her brows shot up. “And you’re still here?”

“I told Mom I’d come after you woke up.”

“Zane, your father was shot!”

“I’m aware.”

“While he was trying to help me.”

There it was again.

“Astra, we’ve already been over this. What happened to Dad wasn’t your fault.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I’m staying here while he’s in the hospital.”

She pushed the covers aside and tried to get up. I caught her around the waist before she made it farther than the edge of the mattress.

“Where exactly do you think you’re going?”

“To see your father.”

12:03 Thu, Aug 13

The Nerd Who Stole The Quarterback

“You’ve been awake for less than five minutes.”

“And I’m perfectly capable of getting out of bed.”

“Great. You can demonstrate that after you’ve eaten something and taken a shower.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you ordering me around again?”

“Yes.”

“Zane.”

“You can glare at me all you want, Trouble. We’re not leaving until you’ve eaten.”

She opened her mouth, probably to tell me exactly where I could shove that decision.

I raised a brow.

“Food first. Then the hospital.”

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Astra held my gaze, that stubborn little spark finally back in her eyes-the one I’d been terrified I might never see again, and fuck, I’d missed it.

“Fine,” she muttered, though the look she gave me made it clear she wasn’t happy about it. “But we’re going today.”

“We are.”

“Promise?”

I pulled her back against my chest. Her soft body fitted against mine far too easily. Her hair brushed my face, carrying that familiar strawberry scent that had been driving me insane since the day I met her. I breathed it in before pressing my mouth to the top of her head.

“You have my word.”

That was enough. Her shoulders loosened and she sank more comfortably into my arms.

After all her determination to get to the hospital, she made no attempt to leave them.

“Aren’t we getting up?” I asked.

“In a minute.”

That almost made me smile. Of course.

My palm traveled slowly along her side before settling at her waist, thumb brushing the strip of warm skin where her shirt had ridden up.

“Take your time, Trouble.”

Whatever waited outside this room could wait a little longer.

12:03 Thu, Aug 13

The Nerd Who Stole The Quarterback

Because I Could

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ASTRA

The shower had been running for nearly ten minutes before I finally stepped under it.

Hot water streamed over tny shoulders and down my back, loosening muscles that still refused to unknot. I closed my eyes and stood there, breathing in the steam as it clouded the glass.

Beyond the bathroom door was my bedroom-clothes exactly where I’d left them, Patches waiting on the bed, and Zane almost certainly nearby now that he’d decided personal space was more suggestion than rule:

Home.

Silas had given me water to brush my teeth and wash my face. He’d brought clean clothes and tried to make everything feel almost normal, as though providing the basics somehow changed the fact that I couldn’t leave.

A shower had been different. The first time I asked, he refused. The bathroom door locked. Allowing me behind it meant several minutes completely beyond his control. So he’d brought whatever I needed into the room and expected gratitude for the compromise.

See? I’m taking care of you.

As long as taking care of me never required trusting me.

Standing under running water now felt almost unfamiliar. I hadn’t been able to wash my hair properly or scrub away the sweat and grime that had built up while I was trapped with him.

I reached for my body wash and squeezed far too much onto the sponge. The strawberry fragrance bloomed through the steam. Lately it came with the image of Zane burying his face in my hair like some deranged bloodhound. Right now, it just smelled like me.

I worked the sponge over my skin, slowing when I reached my wrists. The hospital had cleaned and treated them, but the marks were hard to ignore.

My hand stopped.

The warm bathroom suddenly felt much farther away. I could almost feel concrete under my feet again, the rope cutting deeper whenever I fought it, the metallic scrape of the chair, Silas telling me to stop struggling because I was only hurting myself.

Air snagged in my chest.

No.

The sponge slipped from my hand and landed with a wet slap. I braced myself against the tiled wall and forced my attention back into the room.

Water ran warm over my skin. Steam blurred the glass. My shampoo bottle sat crooked on the shelf exactly where I’d left it. Behind me, the door was unlocked.

That mattered most.

Nobody stood on the other side deciding whether I was allowed to leave. Nobody controlled how long I stayed under the water. If I wanted. I could turn it off right now and walk into my bedroom. If I wanted another hour, I could take it.

The choice belonged to me.

Aug 13

The Nerd Who Stole The Quarterback

Something inside me finally eased.

“You’re home,” I whispered.

Eventually, breathing stopped feeling like something I had to remember how to do.

I retrieved the sponge and kept washing, taking my time until the last of the suds disappeared down the drain. Then I started over.

It wasn’t until halfway through that I realized what I was doing. I wasn’t dirty anymore. Some stubborn part of me had decided that enough soap and hot water might erase everything else along with it.

It couldn’t.

No amount of soap could wash away those days in that house. It certainly couldn’t silence the gunshot that still seemed to echo somewhere inside my head.

“Damn it.”

Tears blurred my vision. I tipped my face under the spray before they could make much progress.

Great. As if I hadn’t cried enough in the last twenty-four hours.

I reached for the shampoo and worked it through my hair until the familiar scent filled the steam. By the time the conditioner rinsed clean, my fingertips had wrinkled. The sensible thing would have been to get out.

I stayed another minute anyway.

Simply because I could.

I shut off the water. The sudden quiet filled the bathroom. After reaching through the glass for my towel, I wrapped it around myself and stepped onto the bath mat.

The mirror caught me before I could turn away.

For a moment I simply studied the girl staring back.

She looked insultingly normal.

My face hadn’t changed. Neither had the body I’d spent years finding things to complain about. Wet hair clung to my shoulders, and there was a weariness around my eyes that hadn’t been there before, but the reflection was unmistakably

mine.

Astra Hawthorne.

As though the world hadn’t tilted completely off its axis.

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