The Nerd Who Stole The Quarterback (Astra and Zayne) novel Chapter 210

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

Hot water streamed over my 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.

1/6

12:08 Fri, Aug 21

The Nerd Who Stole The Quarterback

That mattered most.

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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.

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.

2/6

12:09 Fri, Aug 21

The Nerd Who Stole The Quarterback

That mattered most.

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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.

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.

2/6

12:09 Fri, Aug 21

The Nerd Who Stole The Quarterback

Astra Hawthorne.

:

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

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A knock struck the door so unexpectedly that I jerked sideways and smacked my elbow against the counter.

“Shit!”

“Astra?” Zane’s voice came through almost immediately. “What happened?”

“I’m fine. I just hit my elbow.”

“Open the door.”

I stared at it like he’d lost his mind. “I’m wearing a towel, Zane.”

A few seconds of silence. Then: “Did you hurt yourself?”

“My elbow has suffered a devastating injury, but the doctors are optimistic about my recovery.”

His exasperated sigh came straight through the wood. “Astra.”

The laugh escaped before I could stop it, surprising me with how easy it felt. When I glanced at the fogged mirror again, the girl staring back didn’t seem quite as unfamiliar anymore.

Maybe looking normal wasn’t such an insult after all.

“I’m okay,” I said, gentler this time. “Really.”

“All right. Take your time.”

I reached for the clothes I’d brought in, then paused.

“Zane?”

“Yeah?”

“How long have you been standing outside this door?”

The silence told me enough.

A smile crept across my face. “You’ve been guarding me while I showered, haven’t you?”

“I prefer supervising.”

I shook my head, still smiling as I gathered my clothes.

For the first time since coming home, I smelled entirely like myself again. And on the other side of the door was Zane, determined to keep watch even when there was absolutely nothing to protect me from.

I should have found it ridiculous.

3/6

12:09 Fri, Aug 21

The Nerd Who Stole The Quarterback

Instead, there was something unexpectedly comforting about knowing he was there.

***

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Hospitals had entirely too many white walls.

I sat beside Zane in the waiting area outside Mr. Ashton’s room, twisting my fingers together while a nurse disappeared through the double doors farther down the corridor. I’d started picking at the skin near my wrist without realizing it when Zane’s hand closed over mine.

“Don’t.”

I glanced at him. “Don’t what?”

He gently pulled my fingers away from my wrist and laced them through his instead. “That.”

I could have pointed out that my fingers belonged to me, but there was something far more important occupying my thoughts.

“Zane?”

“Hmm?”

“What about my mom?”

His thumb stopped against my hand.

I’d thought about her constantly while Silas had me. Since coming home, though, everything had moved so quickly that I hadn’t asked the question now making me feel slightly sick.

“What did you tell her?”

Zane took a moment before answering, and the silence immediately sent my thoughts somewhere terrible.

“She must have realized I was gone.” I tightened my fingers around his. “Was she upset? Did she keep asking where I was?”

“Astra.”

“What if she thought I abandoned her?”

“You didn’t.”

“I know that, but she might not.” The words began coming faster. “She would’ve been terrified, Zane, and stress makes everything worse for her. What if…”

“She doesn’t know.”

The rest died on my tongue.

“What?”

4/6

12:09 Fri, Aug 21

The Nerd Who Stole The Quarterback

“We never told her you were kidnapped.”

I searched his face. “You didn’t?”