Crazy Thing (The Brighton Family #5)

Chapter 28

28

DARIUS

Z iggy and I stick around for the dinner. But after I’ve made a ridiculously generous donation—in Robert Ross’s name—we don’t hang around the charity event any longer. It’s clear that Ziggy is tired, and since we’ve accomplished what we set out to do, I don’t see the need to stay for the full evening.

In the car, we’re both quiet. Ziggy’s been in a strange mood for most of the evening. I suspect it has something to do with that run-in she had with her mother and father.

She denied it when I asked, but I couldn’t help but notice Mrs. Beaumont staring disapprovingly at our table throughout dinner.

Her parents never gave out a warm and fuzzy vibe like my folks do. I find myself wondering just how much damage those assholes have done to their daughter.

I’m guessing, a lot.

Because Ziggy is the complete opposite of her parents. Most of the time, when I look at her, I forget that she’s even a Beaumont.

She is genuinely kind and thoughtful. She’s authentic. She brims with compassion. She stands by her values, even when it costs her dearly. She’d make unthinkable sacrifices for the sake of the people she loves. She’s good, and that goodness shines through effortlessly. It lights her up from within. All those qualities make her so endearing to me.

Our drive back to my house is quiet, aside from the hard rain that’s loudly pelting the roof of my car. Ziggy has plucked her flower crown off of her head and she’s mindlessly fiddling with it in her lap. It’s completely dark when I pull into my driveway.

Before shutting off the engine, I sit here watching Ziggy stare out the blurry window as I try to figure out what to say to her.

Not only did she singlehandedly hunt down the property owner who will help us save the waterfall, but she also somehow convinced him to schedule a meeting with me, even after I nearly fucked everything up. She keeps saving the day—again and again—and I don’t know the right way to thank her.

And the most important part? Even though I was eager to get away from the gala, I don’t want this night to be over. I want more time with her.

But before I can make my mouth say as much, Ziggy unsnaps her seatbelt. “Good night,” she says curtly as she opens the door and quickly climbs out of the car.

Fuck .

I jump out of the driver’s side and chase after her in the heavy rain. I’m instantly soaked all the way through my tuxedo jacket and even my dress shirt underneath.

I catch up to her halfway down the driveway. She’s already on the way to her bus. “Wait! You’re leaving?” I’m practically yelling over the pounding downpour.

Ziggy turns and wipes rain out of her eyes. Her once- curled hair is now a heavy, wet curtain around her shoulders. Her gown is now dripping, too. “Um, yes,” she yells back.

“Ziggy, it’s a freaking storm.” I throw my arms outward. “I’m not letting you leave here tonight. It’s dangerous!”

She rolls her eyes. “You do realize that I’m an adult, right?”

“An adult who’s going to run herself off the road in that giant bus and get herself killed if she drives down the mountain in this weather.”

The stubborn woman opens her mouth to protest, but just then, a bolt of lightning strikes close enough that it lights up the paleness of her face. She jumps, her eyes flashing with worry. But she immediately tries to shake it off.

“Ziggy, you’re not leaving here,” I declare, ready for an all-out war with this woman.

I’m surprised when she doesn’t fight back. Instead, she wraps her arms around her wet, shivering body.

I’m tempted to give her my suit jacket, but it’s dripping wet and would probably just make her even colder. If she’d just quit being stubborn, I could take her inside and wrap her up in a blanket in front of my fireplace.

“Fine. I’ll park here for the night.”

“You’re not sleeping in that thing either,” I growl. “I won’t let you.”

If the wind kicks up, her bus will be the first thing to blow over. Everyone knows the worst place to be in a storm is a vehicle. Especially a damn school bus.

“You really think you’re the boss of me, don’t you?” Ziggy asks, hand fisted on her hip.

I shake my head. She’s being ridiculous. Why’s she always so hell bent on turning down my help? She would rather put herself in danger than be around me longer than she has to?

“I’m supposed to leave you to sleep inside a soup can on wheels when I have a warm seven bedroom mansion right across the yard?” I chuff. “That thing is more than just an eyesore. It’s a safety hazard, too.”

I can fit Ziggy’s entire house inside my linen closet. But it probably would not be productive to say that to her right now.

“Excuse me? That soup can on wheels is my home , you superior asshole. It’s. My. Home. The place where I feel safest. The place where I can be me without worrying that I’m being judged or without having to put on a corporate smile or worrying that my parents don’t approve or wondering if I fit in.”

Her rage-filled words smack me square in the face.

“Shit—I…I’m sorry. I…” I’m just trying to talk some sense into her. But obviously, I’m going about it in the wrong way.

She stands there, waiting for me to finish, like she’s giving me a chance to redeem myself. For once.

I open my mouth. Whatever perfect words I’m hoping will come and save me, don’t come out.

Ziggy stomps right up into her bus and slams the door shut, leaving me standing there in the rain. Feeling like a drowned puppy. What am I saying? I’m not the poor innocent pet here. I’m the monster.

I don’t want Ziggy to feel judged. I don’t want her to feel like she doesn’t belong. And I sure as hell don’t want her to feel unsafe.

I fucked up. Again. It's all I do these days.

Maybe this is another side effect of my curse?

Nah. I’ve always been an asshole. The witches didn’t do that to me. I’d love to blame everything on this stupid death hex, but I can’t blame anyone but myself here. I know I need to take accountability for how poorly I’m handling this.

Yeah, I really fucked up.

I’m still standing there in the rain, berating myself when the bus’s engine starts up. Then Ziggy’s house on wheels slowly starts to ease backward.

Ah, dammit. She can’t leave! Not in this storm!

I jump into action, nearly slipping in a rain puddle as I sprint toward the crawling bus. I grab the handle, yank the door open and hop inside, desperate to keep Ziggy from driving off into the terrible weather.

Ziggy startles, letting out a gasp. Her eyes are wide and wild when she sees me climbing onto her moving vehicle.

“What are you doing!?” she screeches. She shoves the gear back into ‘park’, jolting the bus to a jerky stop. Then she hops out from behind the wheel to confront me.

But I don't want to hear it.Not this time.

Before she can even begin yelling at me, I grab her cheeks in my palms, slam my mouth against hers and kiss the hell out of her.