“In lockup,” I answer, my voice low as if to keep our conversation private, even though I know both Beth and Sam can hear us perfectly fine.
“Pity,” he says softly, and my eyes widen. In that moment I know Robbie is better off in jail than within Zayn’s reach, and it sends a disconcerting chill down my spine that Zayn looks positively homicidal in my honour. It’s doing zilch to stifle down the ball of attraction in my chest that is still burning hotter than the fire of a thousand suns.
I step back, needing to put distance between us. His hand falls from my chin.
“What is this place, Gianna?”
“A woman’s shelter,” I swallow. “Beth’s husband wasn’t supposed to know where to find her.”
Zayn closes his eyes and looks as though he’s counting to ten in his head. “And what areyoudoing here, Gianna?” His eyes open to reveal the fury still dancing behind his black irises. “Do you use this shelter?”
“What? No!” I rush to correct him. “I volunteer here every Thursday.”
He watches me for a long moment, assessing my face inthe way he does that makes me feel exposed, not sure exactly what it is he’s looking for.
“Are you okay?” There’s an edge of concern in his voice that makes me feel uneasy. He isn’t supposed to care about me. I had convinced myself a long time ago that he didn’t. He couldn’t. I look back at Beth, suddenly remembering we have an audience. Lucky. Because it’s harder than I thought to not blur the lines between the Zayn I was in love with as a teenager and the Zayn that stands before me now.
“I’m fine, honestly.” I tuck an escaped tendril of hair behind my ear. My ponytail was loosened in the scuffle and I haven’t bothered to fix it yet. “I called you here for Beth, not for me. She needs help and can’t afford a lawyer.”
Beth clutches her cup tighter and a blush stains her cheeks as she averts her eyes downward. A rush of sadness fills my chest for her. What an awful situation to be in, and with her children no less. I look back to Zayn to find him watching me, a brow raised in question.
The thought of whether or not he would actually help Beth pro bono did cross my mind after I called him. The Zayn I knew a decade ago wouldn’t have hesitated. But this Zayn? I’m not so sure, but I had to try.
“Okay,” he says slowly, drawing out the word while tucking his hands into his pockets. His dark gaze on my beaten face is unwavering. “I don’t usually work for nothing, but in this case I’ll help your friend.”
A heavy sigh of relief escapes my lips. It’s mirrored by Beth in my peripheral vision. Zayn’s body is blocking my view of Sam, who’s been unusually quiet since Zayn arrived, but I can practically feel the gratitude that pours from him, as well.
“Thank you,” I breathe, hoping he can read the sincerityin my eyes. I go to leave and give them privacy, but his voice stops me before I reach the door.
“Don’t leave this house. I’ll find you when I’m done.”
When Zayn finishes with Beth,I’m laying with Emma on her bed flicking through the gossip magazine I smuggled in for her this morning.
“He’s just so dreamy,” Emma sighs, blowing her strawberry blonde bangs from her eyes as she points out the very lead singer we were discussing last week from a page of paparazzi shots. “Look at those eyes. The colour of a summer sky.”
I groan internally. The singer looks like an unwashed, malnourished gutter rat, but I know from first-hand experience that youthful infatuation can’t be dissuaded. I had a crush on Pete Doherty in my teens, for Christ’s sake.
“Mmm,” I murmur sarcastically, settling further back into her cushions, “nothing sexier than infidelity.”
An unamused scoff sounds from somewhere nearby and I look up to find Zayn taking up the entire doorway to Emma’s bedroom. Ignoring him, I focus on the magazine and casually flick over the page.
“Nowthat’swhat I call dreamy,” I say, pointing to a wet, topless photo of Charlie Hunnam. “I binge-watchedSons of Anarchywith my friend Anna and for a month had the sweetest dreams of him stealing me away on a motorbike. I have the biggest crush on him.”
“Mmm,” Zayn says, repeating my words back to me with his notorious blank face. “Nothing sexier than psychopathy.”
I scoff, flicking the pages now with a hint of aggression, refusing to lift my gaze. “He may be a psychopath, but atleast he didn’t disappear for ten years and then come waltzing back under false pretences.”
Wow, okay. I don’t know where this hostility has sprung from, but it seems my gratefulness for Zayn’s help with Beth has worn off and I’ve defaulted to passive-aggressiveness.
“Ummm, who are you?” Emma asks from beside me, her voice sweet as honey and her eyes locked on Zayn, who’s leaning against her doorframe looking ten shades of delicious, the asshole. It dawns on me now that muddled in with that flaming ball of fire in my chest that I assumed was only attraction, is actually also unadulterated, burning hotrage. I’m fucking angry at Zayn. Livid, even.
Teenaged Zayn made mepromises,and not only did he not fulfil them, but now he’s come back ten years too late to seemingly rub them in my face.
“False pretences?” Zayn responds, completely ignoring Emma the way he did with Beth earlier. It’s like no one else exists when we’re in a room together. “I’m not the one who didn’t recogniseyou.” His eyes flash with his sentiment, and a flush swiftly creeps up my neck. I can’t believe I didn’t recognise him either. Yes, he looks different, but now that I know, I can’t understand how I didn’t see it before.Probably due to the fact you refused to think of him for the last decade, Gianna.
“You let me believe you were someone else!” I say, and even I can hear the hysteria creep into my voice. “I was calling you ‘David!’” I sit up and almost fall off Emma’s single bed. The bedrooms at Hope House are modest and quite bare apart from a bed and dresser. Emma’s has been filled with little trinkets, photos and other personal items, seeing as she’s been here the longest at six months, but most women don’t bother to decorate as they move on quitequickly. Poor Emma has nowhere else to go, and Sam would never make her leave before she was ready.
“Is your name David?” Emma asks, confused, as she sits up beside me. The magazine falls from our laps.
