Page 87 of His Fury

And for me? That was everything.

CHAPTER 21

ISLA

My dayat work had been…uneventful. I was used to busy days and beingimmersedin my job, and this week, I just…wasn’t. My thoughts were on the man I left in bed this morning.

After his “talk” yesterday evening, he drove me home. I had nothing to say to him. What could I say?Thanks for telling me a horrific story as to why you’re a borderline psychopath.The moment I’d seen him come through the door to the apartment, wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, his knuckles bleeding, I knew I didn’t need to know the details of where he had just been.

On the drive home, we made small talk, and then he returned to work after giving me a gentle kiss on the lips.

He never woke me when he slipped in bed beside me during the early hours of the morning, and I was just as quiet while getting ready for work today.

Avoiding each other while living together wasn’t sustainable; I knew that. I also understood that Zayn was not a patient man, and he would soon make himself and the situation unavoidable.

Or he was allowing me time to process.

I’d listened to Zayn explain why he was the way he was; well, I thought that was the point of the history lesson. Jesus, I sounded like a bitch. I understood why he believed he had no choice but to become one ofthem. One of the very people who had beaten his mother and father.

I wondered if he had ever heard the saying “If you can’t beat them, join them.” Did he realize he hadjoinedthem? He couldn’t possibly believe he hadbeatenthem, could he?

His life—his everyday life—was so far removed from mine that I couldn’t grasp how we could progress without any common ground. What did we really share? Sex? Was that all we were? Physical attraction? What happened when that changed?

As soon as I had that thought, I dismissed it. I was in love with him, and my feelings for him were so much more than how insanely hot he was.I mean,it certainly helped…I chuckled at my inner thoughts. Exhaling deeply, I tugged at my ponytail.

I was in love with him.

The more I said it, the easier it became to admit. Not in an “if you say it enough times, you’ll believe it” way; I was simply more comfortable saying it than I had been before. I hadn’t told Zayn. I knew he cared for me, but I was uncertain of where he stood on the scale. Was it frenemies with benefits, or was it something more? I mean, he said that no one touched what was his. Did that include me?

I thought it did. But I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure he felt the same way as I did.

But did it really matter?

Good grief, I needed to talk to someone. I couldn’t keep this up; it was messing with my head as I thought through all the variations of how Zayn and I worked. Talking to Julianwas out of the question for so many reasons, the main one being what had happened, and I also needed a Switzerland. I picked up my phone and called Sienna.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Oh, you remember that I’m alive, do you?” she teased, and I instantly smiled at her playful tone. “Can I just say you're the worst bridesmaid ever?”

I winced. “Okay, that’s fair,” I conceded. “Do you want to grab a coffee with me today? I need some girl time.”

I heard her muffle the phone, and then she came back on. “I’m free after two?”

“Perfect! See you at BonBons at three?”

“I’ll be there with bells on,” she said, and I could hear her smile. “So you can identify the stranger, right?”

“Oh my god, it’s only been a few weeks!”

“Iknow.” She hung up before I could respond.

In hindsight, Sienna might not have been the best choice for coffee. Still, at two thirty, I left my office and made my way to downtown Gracemont. It was a gorgeous summer day, and my light, floaty skirt and sleeveless V-neck blouse were perfect for sitting outside. But…I needed relationship advice, and the sidewalk in downtown Gracemont was not the best place for discretion.

I chose to sit inside in the far back corner and pretended it was because of the air-conditioning and lack of pollution from passing cars. I ordered a caramel iced coffee for myself and Sienna’s drink of choice and prepared to wait. I thought about what I would say, knowing I couldn’t sayeverything.

She came in, dressed for summer in denim cutoffs, a striped vest, and oversized sunglasses that obscured half her face. She spotted me and waved while approaching, noticing I already had her drink. We exchanged the faux cheek kiss, which I still hated, but it felt familiar, so I found comfort in it.

“You look terrible,” Sienna said as she sat down, reaching for her drink. She sipped her overpriced iced chai as if she hadn’t just dropped a verbal grenade.

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