Page 84 of Broken Pieces
I cross the street, lean against the pole in front of the steps, metal cold through my shirt.
“You always hang out in the cold for fun?”
Her head snaps up.
Those beautiful fucking eyes find mine — glassy but still fierce. The burn’s still there, buried under everything else.
“You stalking me now?” she says, voice rough.
I shrug. “Cassie told me you were here.”
She huffs a bitter sound. “Did she also tell you to come play hero?”
“No one’s playing anything.”
“Good,” she mutters. “Because I don’t need saving.”
“Didn’t say you did.”
“Then why are you here, Zane?”
I give her half a grin that doesn’t reach my eyes. “Guess I’m bad at minding my own business.”
She looks away, lips pressed tight.
The silence that follows isn’t awkward. It’s heavy — the kind that has its own weight.
“Go home, Zane.”
“Can’t.”
That earns me a glare, weak but still there. She unzips her bag, pulls out a thin sweater, and slides it on. Her hands tremble when she tugs at the sleeves.
“Are you planning to stay out here all night?” I ask.
She shrugs.
“You’ll freeze.”
“Then I freeze.” Her voice is steady but soft and it hits harder than I expect.
The wind cuts through the street, carrying the scent of rain.
Her hair whips across her face. She pushes strands aside with a shaking hand, trying to stay composed, but the cracks start to show.
I move closer.
Not too close. Enough to force her eyes to mine.
“Come on,” I say quietly.
“Where?”
“My place. You can crash there. One night. Nothing more.”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Sky—”
