If Only

Chapter 28 - The Only Reason

I found a table pushed against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, picture frames placed all over the top. I picked up the first one, finding it to be Greyson, Zane, Marco and Lizzy as what I would assume to be young teens – one that was obviously candid, judging by their faces.

Marco was screaming, or at least his mouth was open and his eyes were wide, still just as bright as they were now. Lizzy and Zane were looking at one another, a shared amusement at Marco's antics dancing between the two of them. And Greyson had his hands across his chest, a small smirk on his face, which looked much thinner and lacked the normal scruff along his jaw.

"My dad took that," Zane said, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin as I whipped around to face him.

"Sorry," he smirked, taking in my complete disarray.

"You're fine," I swallowed, releasing a breathy laugh. "You scared the life out of me."

He offered an apologetic smile once more, but it didn't meet his eyes. "My dad gave it to us when we were passed our titles of Beta male and Alpha, said we shouldn't ever forget that we were friends – family," he continued, staring at the picture, longing in his gaze.

"Did you?" I asked him, and he tilted his head.

"Did you forget?" I repeated.

He smiled again, this one a bit brighter than the last. "No. No, we haven't forgotten," he said as I placed the picture back down.

"I didn't think so," I smiled.

"What are you doing up so early?" he asked, and I figured I may as well be honest.

"I couldn't sleep, and I needed water," I said, holding out my hand towards him, the two pain pills resting on my palm.

"Follow me," he said, turning his back as he headed towards the kitchen.

I fell in step behind him, my eyes still taking in the room, dimly lit enough to prove that maybe Zane and I weren't the only ones awake at this hour. The kitchen, just as lavish as the rest of the house, was large and open. A bar rested in the middle, and I braced my arms atop it as Zane grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water.

"Thank you," I told him as he held the glass towards me. I quickly took the pills, washing them down with the water. His eyes were trained on me, his brows furrowed and his lips thin.

"What are you doing up so early?" I asked him, but he just shrugged his shoulders.

"Couldn't sleep either," he said simply, offering no information or explanation.

"What's been up with you?" I asked him, and I think he was shocked by my bluntness, because he only stared back at me.

He blinked. "Nothing, I'm fine," he responded, his feet already carrying him away from this room. From this conversation that we had been putting off for too long.

"You're not fine," I mumbled, hoping that would be enough to stop him. It was.

His body spun around towards me, his jaw tense as we met gazes. His blonde hair was disheveled and his stare bleak. He looked nothing like the Zane I had come to know in the past two years, of my friend I had spent so much time with.

"You don't look like yourself," I admitted to him, and he released a dry chuckle at that.

"I don't look like myself. Look at you. You look like you got run over by a truck," he snarled, and I couldn't help but be taken aback by his harsh words as he gestured towards the bruises littering my face and body.

"Where's this coming from?"

"Nowhere. It's nothing, just drop it," he growled, shaking his head in annoyance.