We wave to Dahlia when we reach the tuck shop, queueing for a hot lunch to help stave off the frigid temperature. By the time we reach their table, Clare’s already checked out Wilder’s list of contacts, sucking air over her teeth with indignation at least once a second.
“Hey,” Evie says, giving me a shy smile. “Has Zane done something newly appalling or is this a hangover from past atrocities?”
“New,” I say, but refuse to divulge any further. “Thanks for inviting us,” I say to Dahlia. “I appreciate it.”
“And I appreciate you,” she says with a smile. “Now, I’m no longer the crazy one for dumping the royal eye candy.”
“Oh, wow. Is that my title?”
She laughs and nods. “You’re the new queen and I’m happy to surrender my sash.” Then she turns, nodding across the quad. “Looks like Zane’s coming over to win you back.”
My heart lodges in my throat as he strides towards me, face set in a resigned expression. Emotions tug me in a dozen different directions until I walk over, intercepting him before he reaches the table. “Did you want something?”
“Yes.” He hands me a small card with a URL and password printed on it. “This is a cloud recording of all the counselling sessions I attended since sentencing. There are also patient notes made by the psychologist.”
I stare at them in confusion. “I don’t want to hear your private counselling sessions, Zane.”
“Fair enough. But you can.”
Just the idea is invasive, and I instinctively push back against it. Even for spite, I wouldn’t be comfortable listening, but there’s also shock he would give me access.
“This wasn’t about—” I break off, frowning with frustration.
“I know but I had nothing else to give you. It’s…” he shakes his head. “Anyway, I didn’t pay John to do anything. I just walked by and saw him hassling you. I asked Dahlia to visit your mother’s salon because of your session because I wanted to make it up to you somehow and thought that might be a start.”
He pulls out an envelope and hands it across, contents bulking out the sides. When I lift the flap, I see the polaroids he took last weekend jumbled inside.
“I would never use these against you but thought you’d prefer to have them.” He unfolds a piece of paper, covered in scribbles, and reads from his list of transgression. “Ant set up clone software on your phone for me to upload the videos using your accounts. He’ll be in contact to arrange removing it for you or can take you shopping if you’d prefer to buy a new model. There’s also a list of counsellors he’ll give you. They all have room in their schedules to accommodate new clients—”
“Right. And I won’t use them, so you can—”
“They’re there, whether or not you use them. You don’t have to tell me, either way.” He shifts his weight. “You can also forward invoices to my dad’s office, for anything you need, and they’ll be paid. He won’t disclose anything about them to me and nothing will be declined.”
I stare at him for a few seconds then have to glance away. His face is haggard, regret marring his expression when I spent the night thinking he didn’t care at all.
Being this close, it’s like he exerts a magnetic pull. My body aches to curve into his orbit.
“When I changed my subjects, it was because I missed creating art, but if you hadn’t been in the class, I wouldn’t havebothered. I’d like to stay but if you’d prefer me to leave, please just tell me or Miss Murewa. A text is fine.”
My stomach is a tight ball and I rub my abdomen, trying to ease the discomfort.
“Using the clone app Ant installed, I didn’t just listen to your counselling, I spied on you while you were online. I read your texts. I watched you interacting on social media, but I should never have invaded your privacy like that. It was appalling. I hate telling you in case it hurts you more, but I wanted to make sure you knew this is all on me. Nothing you did encouraged or contributed to my behaviour.”
He gives a final nod and steps away, heading to the table where Wilder and Maddox are already sitting, leaving me stunned by the rapid fire.
“Spill the tea,” Clare demands the moment I’m back within earshot. “That conversation looked super intense.”
“It was.” I stare at the table, poking at my lunch with a bamboo fork.
His long list is too thorough, too detailed to disbelieve any of it. The overload leaves me reeling but as the seconds tick by, it also leaves me cold.
The whole speech was completely unsatisfying.
Before I can second guess myself, I leap to my feet, striding to his table. “Give me the list.” I snap my fingers at him, not caring that Maddox and Wilder are staring.
Zane pulls it out of his pocket, and I snatch it from his hand while he’s still unfolding it.
“Here.” I say, slamming it down on the table and stabbing my finger at the first entry. “Why didn’t you say this?”
