Visible Ghosts

6

Tuesday morning hit me like a freight train. My dreams were a jumbled mix of weird missions with the Toma/Blackbourne teams and nightmares. Dark circles line my eyes as I stare into my bathroom mirror.

Zane and I briefed when we got home yesterday and wrote down everything we learned about the people we interacted with. So far Greg is the only one that set off alarm bells. Zane is going to attempt to have him wired by the end of the week.

I'm not looking forward to having classes throughout the week. It's only day two and I'm over having classes. Especially since my adoptive father threw me in all male academy professor courses. I'm not sure if it's a subtle attempt at trying to get me to meet new people or if it's a not so subtle attempt at trying to protect me. Either way, I am going to take it as an insult.

"I can make friends without help." I mutter to myself as I finish my morning routine. "Nor do I need protection. I can fend for myself."

Sluggishly walking down the stairs, I hear Zane humming to himself. Turning the corner I spot him doing a little jig as he slides scrambled eggs onto a plate with a piece of buttered toast. Quietly, I make my way into the same room as him and pour myself a cup of coffee. Clutching the warmth into both hands I hop onto the counter and wait for Zane to notice me.

He continues dancing around the kitchen shaking his hips and putting away the supplies he used for breakfast. When he starts twerking, I can barely hold in the snort that threatens to spit coffee across the now clean kitchen.

"Encore. Encore." I shout. Zane turns around so fast he might have gave himself whiplash. The color crimson begins overtaking his neck, soon spreading to his face and the tips of his ears.

"How long have you been sitting there?" He asks, completely mortified.

"Only through the last two songs." I tease. "I must admit, your performance of 'Hips Don't Lie' was phenomenal."

If his face could turn any more red it would have. Zane is rocking back and forth on his feet avoiding looking me in the eye. Chuckling again, I hop down from the counter and grab Zane's hand. I put his other hand on my shoulder and begin to waltz him around the room. We had to learn ballroom dancing when in New York. Luca liked to rub elbows with some of the dirty politicians and for some god forsaken reason, he liked to do it while wearing thousand dollar suits and eating the smallest portion sized meals known to man.

After a couple of spins around the kitchen, I feel the tension drain out of Zane's shoulders and a little bit more pep in his step. He takes control of leading, twirling me around. Softly I start singing 'You are my Sunshine' under my breath. On hard days, Zane would sing this song to me until I fell asleep. It's comforting even if the lyrics are sad.

Zane's voice joins mine as I hit the chorus and we finish the song as we slowly dance around the kitchen, both lost in our own thoughts. As the last notes hang in the air, Zane pulls me in for a bear hug. His body engulfs mine as his chin rests on the top of my head.

"Thanks buttercup." He murmurs into my hair before releasing me. He nudges me towards the island counter, pointing at the uneaten food. "I slaved over breakfast this morning and you're letting it get cold. Chop chop, missy."

Kissing his cheek, I happily take my seat on a stool and dig in. Cheesy scrambled egg goodness, with toast, and fresh cut fruit. Zane went all out this morning considering he normally considers two cups of coffee and a poptart breakfast. After I finish eating, I take the dirty dishes and place them in the dishwasher. "Thanks Zane, that made a not so good morning into something somewhat bearable." I try for the light nonchalant attitude but he sees through it and frowns.