Peace and strife.
As if the man bore the scars of a thousand battles and still managed to look past the brutality of the world.
I fumbled through a self-conscious laugh. “You were picturing my house?”
He gave a short nod. “Yeah…I guess I was. Trying to imagine what I’d find when I came here.”
I wrung my hands. “Are you pleased or disappointed?”
The smirk that curled his mouth was self-deprecating, laced with something bitter. “Only in myself.”
I blinked. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He laughed low and rubbed a hand across his bearded jaw. “Nothin’,” he mumbled.
Uneasily, he glanced around before he looked back at me. He seemed to struggle to find words. “I was worried about you. Spent the last three days trying not to be. Trying to stop thinking about you.”
As if it frustrated him, he shook his head. “In the end, I couldn’t stay away.”
Emotion clogged my throat, and I warred with how much to give him, with what to say. Wondering if it was too soon or maybe it was already too late.
But I was a girl who’d never been afraid to take a chance.
No fear. Just life.
“That’s good. Because I’m really, really glad you’re here.”
Chapter Eight
Zee
Energy brimmed and bristled in the atmosphere, so thick I was sure I could see it carried on the motes that floated and danced in the bright rays of light slanting in through the only window in the room.
The rest of the modest space was dimmed, the lights cut, all except for the girl shining like a beacon where she remained by the door, wringing her hands. Like maybe she was physically restraining herself from reaching out and sinking her fingers into my skin.
Didn’t matter.
I could feel them piercing me, anyway. Forging a bond that never should’ve been established.
God, what did I think I was doing? Chasing down something I couldn’t have? Taking a chance that wasn’t worth the risk?
Yet, there I was, staring at this girl who was just about the best damned thing I’d ever seen.
I turned away when I spoke, wandering deeper into the room. “You think it’s just because of what happened?”
I could sense her confusion, the shift of her feet as she contemplated taking a step forward. “What?”
A low chuckle rumbled in my chest. I swiveled a fraction, enough so I could gesture to that space between us that came alive every time we were in the other’s presence.
“This. The fact I can’t get you off my mind. The fact there was nothing I could do to stop myself from coming here. You think it’s only because of what happened, the stress and trauma of it all? Or do you think if I’d run into you at a bar it would be the same?”
All of it bled out in some kind of frustration. But I figured if she was talking trust, I owed her the same.
“I honestly don’t know,” she finally admitted as a flush of red touched her cheeks. This sweet simplicity that coalesced with the greatest kind of courage.
There was no missing it where it welled from the depths of those mesmerizing eyes, twilight and the deepest sea.
Amusement made its way into her tone. “Considering I don’t frequent bars all that much, I’m not sure I’d be the best judge.”
I chuckled again, this time lighter, feeling the tease that touched her words. “Are you implying something, Alexis?”
She glanced to her bare feet, which were just about as fucking cute as the rest of her, and her bottom lip got caught up in her teeth again. When she peeked back up at me, the sweetest smile hinted on her face. “You do run with a crowd that has quite a reputation.”
A grin tugged at my mouth. “And that didn’t change your opinion of me?”
She laughed, a tinkling, self-conscious sound, and a delicate shoulder lifted to one ear. “No. Not at all.”
“That’s awful brave of you.” There was no missing the implication behind it, the silent question I was desperate for the answer to.
What the hell were you doing down there?
Her head shook. “I wouldn’t call it brave. I was just doing what I had to do.”
“You want to tell me about that?”
Couldn’t help pushing, unable to keep from digging deeper.
She sighed and looked to the wall like she was contemplating. Then, after a beat, she returned that powerful gaze back to me with some sort of resolution on her face. “Why don’t I make you a cup of tea?”
“Why do I get the feelin’ I’m not going to like this story?”
Her voice was small. “Maybe because it’s not a story I like to tell.”
“How about I do my best to listen?”
She nodded, this shaky gratitude quivering in her chin as she did. “I think I’d like that.”
She headed toward the arch cut out at the far end of the room that led to the kitchen. The girl kept peeking over at me the whole time, something strong yet shy about her as she went.
Her white hair was again piled on her head in some kind of messy twist, and she was dressed in a thin sweatshirt and sweatpants—all of it pink. It hugged her curves and made her appear innocent and sexy at the same damned time.
Standing there, I was left without doubt.
This girl was pure and soft.
Good and grace.
Angel.
Then I caught sight of the tiny star tattoo that dangled on a string that ran down the base of her neck, starting at her hairline. I had the itch to reach out and brush my fingertips over it. Wondering why the sight of it touched me like a brand.
She paused at the entrance, words muted but sure. “Make yourself at home.”
“Awful brave.” My voice was gruff but not the least bit hard as I teased her some more.
For a flash, she smiled this smile that nearly knocked me to my knees. “I try to be.”
Then she shook her head and disappeared through the arch.
Shit. What was I doing? Better question was why the hell was I staying?
I’d been fighting with myself for the last three days, one side of me arguing every reason I needed to keep away.
Of course, the other side had slowly but surely convinced every part of me it was my responsibility to check on her. Make sure she was fine. That she was whole and happy and not broken down with fear.
And there I was. Staying.
I tried to rein in all the thoughts and ideas racing out ahead of me. I gathered them up and tied them down, a firm resolution set in place.
I’d stay and listen because obviously she needed someone to talk to, then I’d be on my merry way. I’d go back home where it was lonely and too damned quiet and those walls echoed all my mistakes back at me.
Fuck. Maybe I was the one who needed someone to talk to.
Shaking it off, I inhaled deeply and attempted to relax, my footsteps tamed when I let myself wander the room.