Page 58 of Beautiful Scars

But it’s not Jade.

It’s Zane, leaning casually against the doorframe, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. The easy grin I’ve seen on his face is dimmed, his gaze soft, but serious. He doesn’t bother to hide the way he looks me over, taking in everything. I know I'm a disaster—I'm sure it's obvious in my face, and in my knotted, greasy hair and the clothes I haven’t had the energy to change in… days, I think.

"So, sleeping in, huh?" he murmurs, his voice low and somehow gentler than I'm expecting. There’s a beat where I think I could just slam the door shut, pretend he never showed up here in the first place. But I can’t seem to summon the energy to care enough to even try. I sag against the edge of the door instead, fingers curled around it.

“How did you find me?” I ask. I go still.

“Jade. She came to visit Colt at the house. She's worried about you, you know." He gives a small, almost shy shrug, scratching the back of his head.

“Jade told you where I live?” I can't hide the suspicious look on my face, the panic rising in my voice.

"I don't think she would've if you'd answered your phone the dozens of times she's tried calling. She said you'd have a harder time throwing me out than you did her. So, here I am.” His voice is calm.

I stare at him, waiting for him to tell me this all some kind of set-up. That it's a trick.

"It's okay. No one else is with me. I'm here by myself. Why don't you call her?"

"Fine." I slam the door and lock it. My heart's beating out of my chest as I head into the bedroom to grab my phone. Sprawling on the bed, I dial.

The phone rings once.

“Angel!” Jade sounds breathless—like sheknewI’d call and has been waiting for this exact moment.

“So he wasn’t lying,” I bite. “You really gave him my address.”

“I needed to know you were okay,” she says, too fast. “You haven’t answeredanything. No texts, no calls—nothing.”

“That doesn’t mean you get to decide who shows up at my door.” My voice rises. “You know some of what I’ve been through. Youknowwhat it means for someone to just—appear.”

She exhales hard. “I know. Iknow, Angel. And I’m sorry. I didn’t do it to hurt you. I did it because I’m scared for you. Because I didn’t know how else to reach you and get you to talk to me.”

“So you send Zane?” I’m pacing now, barefoot, heart pounding. “Some guy I just met and don't even know. You know I just threw open the door. He could’ve beenanyone,Jade.”

“If it helps, I trust him,” she says quietly. “I've gotten to know him over the past few days. And I thought… I don't know, I thought maybe you could use someoneyoucould trust right now. Someone who knows more about what you're going through.”

I close my eyes, fingers trembling around the phone. “You blindsided me.”

"I know. I'll make it up to you. I promise. No one else knows anything. He's just there to make sure you're okay, for me. Will you just let him do that. Please?"

"Fine," I grumble and hang up the phone.

When I open the door again, Zane is still there. Still waiting.

Something tightens in my chest, a flicker of resistance, but it’s so faint it hardly registers. Mostly what I feel is resignation. A deep sense of I-don't-give-a-damn blended with a hollow kind of acceptance. Thanks to Jade he’s here, and she's not going to be satisfied unless he can tell her I'm fine. She needs to hear it from someone who isn't me.

"It's just you?"

"It's just me." His tone is warm, his expression open. "No one even saw me leave the house. Except Jade."

I continue to stare at him and the longer I look, the less energy I have to argue. This has all been too much.

I step back and open the door, gesturing him in. He steps inside, his gaze moving over my tiny, cluttered apartment. It's trashed, but there doesn't seem to be any hint of judgement on his face as he takes it all in.

He doesn’t seem bothered by the mess that's built up over the past week or so, or the lack of light from having the blinds drawn shut. There’s a faint smirk on his lips, but his eyes stay soft, careful, like he’s trying to take in as much as he can and still be respectful.

“So this is where the infamous Angel hides out,” he says, giving a small nod. “Nice place.”

I let out a weak laugh, though it sounds foreign to me. “You don't have to be polite. I know it’s a mess.”

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