to my Breaking Time series. People not only buy my books, they talk about it, obsess over the characters. And constantly harass me about when the next book will be coming out.
“ So why wa s your mom so secretive about it?” Zane wonders, tapping my leg to get my attention. “I would think she’d have a bumper sticker made: ‘My Daughter’s a Famous Author.’”
I scoff. “I’m not famous! And…no one knows that I write besides her and Lauren. I use a pen name.”
“How come?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m kind of weird about stuff. I didn’t want my name out there on the internet. I don’t even use Facebook. I don’t like the thought of kids at school, judging my work. They’d tease the hell out of me. There are some real bitches at Hidden Cove.”
Zane starts laughing. “ What’s your pen name?” he wants to know.
I cringe a little. “Elizabeth Bunnei . Eli zabeth is my middle name. And B unnei … well, bunnies are cute .”
He cocks his head to the side, running a hand over his mouth. “ Got a thing for rabbits, huh?”
I totally know he’s referring to the rabbit on my underwear. I shift uncomfortably in my chair. “Let’s change the subject,” I say. “Um…so, what about your mom? Where is she?”
Zane leans back. His smile is still there, but the edges of amusement are gone. “She’s dead,” he says matter-of-factly.
Great, Violet. Way to bring up bad memories. “I’m so sorry,” I say in a hushed voice.
He glances over and seeing my remorseful expression, he reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Don’t be. It happened a long time ago. When she was alive, I barely knew her.”
I surreptitiously study his face to gauge his mood. “What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?” I ask cautiously.
“She was a paranoid schizophrenic. She didn’t live with us most of the time.” Zane’s gaze goes distant. “I remember going to visit her at various facilities. When she did come home, she used to lock herself in the bathroom and just cry and scream for hours. When I was really young, I used to…I used to stand outside, and just listen to her talk to herself. I thought maybe she knew I was out there, keeping her company.”
It’s my turn to take his hand. “That’s a nice thought.”
He shrugs. “We thought she was doing better for a while. She was taking her meds , and sometimes she’d even ask me how my day was going. Then, one day I walk into her room and…there she was. She hanged herself with some wire from a hook in the ceiling.”
I cover my mouth with both hands, horrified for him. “How… awful .”
“Yeah, it was,” he says simply. “I had nightmares for months after. Couldn’t watch scary movies, or go out at Halloween. It was a long time ago, though. I made my peace with it.”
I really have no freaking clue what to say. “I…uh…do you want to…?”
Zane waves the topic away with an impatient hand gesture. “Seriously, I’m okay. I don’t need to talk about it. Some things happen that just don’t make sense, you know? And talking about it doesn’t help anything. Sometimes it’s better just to forget.”
“I…” I stare down at my hands. “I’m sorry.”
“No worries, Violet. Let’s change the subject again , okay?”
“Thank goodness,” I agree gratefully, and he laughs.
We are quiet for a moment. The awkwardness brought on by the topic of his mother’s suicide dissipates like fog, leaving a comfortable camaraderie. It’s nice. Okay, it’s more than nice. I can’t stop stealing glances at his beautiful profile out of the corner of my eye.
“I wish I could go swimming,” I say idly, staring at longingly at the pool.
“Why don’t you?”
I make a face. “Too cold.”
Zane sits up. “The pools heated, you know.”
“It is? Wish I knew that before.” I sigh.
“So, let’s
“ So why wa s your mom so secretive about it?” Zane wonders, tapping my leg to get my attention. “I would think she’d have a bumper sticker made: ‘My Daughter’s a Famous Author.’”
I scoff. “I’m not famous! And…no one knows that I write besides her and Lauren. I use a pen name.”
“How come?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m kind of weird about stuff. I didn’t want my name out there on the internet. I don’t even use Facebook. I don’t like the thought of kids at school, judging my work. They’d tease the hell out of me. There are some real bitches at Hidden Cove.”
Zane starts laughing. “ What’s your pen name?” he wants to know.
I cringe a little. “Elizabeth Bunnei . Eli zabeth is my middle name. And B unnei … well, bunnies are cute .”
He cocks his head to the side, running a hand over his mouth. “ Got a thing for rabbits, huh?”
I totally know he’s referring to the rabbit on my underwear. I shift uncomfortably in my chair. “Let’s change the subject,” I say. “Um…so, what about your mom? Where is she?”
Zane leans back. His smile is still there, but the edges of amusement are gone. “She’s dead,” he says matter-of-factly.
Great, Violet. Way to bring up bad memories. “I’m so sorry,” I say in a hushed voice.
He glances over and seeing my remorseful expression, he reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Don’t be. It happened a long time ago. When she was alive, I barely knew her.”
I surreptitiously study his face to gauge his mood. “What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?” I ask cautiously.
“She was a paranoid schizophrenic. She didn’t live with us most of the time.” Zane’s gaze goes distant. “I remember going to visit her at various facilities. When she did come home, she used to lock herself in the bathroom and just cry and scream for hours. When I was really young, I used to…I used to stand outside, and just listen to her talk to herself. I thought maybe she knew I was out there, keeping her company.”
It’s my turn to take his hand. “That’s a nice thought.”
He shrugs. “We thought she was doing better for a while. She was taking her meds , and sometimes she’d even ask me how my day was going. Then, one day I walk into her room and…there she was. She hanged herself with some wire from a hook in the ceiling.”
I cover my mouth with both hands, horrified for him. “How… awful .”
“Yeah, it was,” he says simply. “I had nightmares for months after. Couldn’t watch scary movies, or go out at Halloween. It was a long time ago, though. I made my peace with it.”
I really have no freaking clue what to say. “I…uh…do you want to…?”
Zane waves the topic away with an impatient hand gesture. “Seriously, I’m okay. I don’t need to talk about it. Some things happen that just don’t make sense, you know? And talking about it doesn’t help anything. Sometimes it’s better just to forget.”
“I…” I stare down at my hands. “I’m sorry.”
“No worries, Violet. Let’s change the subject again , okay?”
“Thank goodness,” I agree gratefully, and he laughs.
We are quiet for a moment. The awkwardness brought on by the topic of his mother’s suicide dissipates like fog, leaving a comfortable camaraderie. It’s nice. Okay, it’s more than nice. I can’t stop stealing glances at his beautiful profile out of the corner of my eye.
“I wish I could go swimming,” I say idly, staring at longingly at the pool.
“Why don’t you?”
I make a face. “Too cold.”
Zane sits up. “The pools heated, you know.”
“It is? Wish I knew that before.” I sigh.
“So, let’s
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