“I-I really don’t need all that. I promise,” I assure him.
“You just survived an attack, Katherine. Please allow me to make sure you arrive at your destination safely. If her place really is as close as you say it is, then it will be no extra trouble for me at all.”
I consider his words for a moment. I am cold and sore and embarrassed and kind of dizzy. Not to mention still somewhat tipsy and currently fighting down the grossest-tasting hiccups. Continuing to argue with him back and forth probably isn’t worth it. Not when he so clearly has his mind made up to ensure my safety.
“Gah, okay,” I concede, begrudgingly.
I swallow down my nausea and allow him to steer me forward at a turtle’s pace. Together, we walk out of the alleyway and round the corner, Zayn’s firm grasp on my elbow never wavering.
Despite our slow pace, we reach Bea’s apartment complex in mere minutes. I slide my arm out of his grasp and climb the short staircase to be buzzed in. I catch his scent as he leans forward to assist me up the first step. A mad surge of desire pools from my belly causing me to pause for a second.Jesus.Meeting his eyes, the pool grows into a tidal wave.
I sway on the spot again, not sure if it’s because of the alcohol, the adrenaline drop, or… something else.
Zayn stabilizes me again and his warm breath across my face has my eyelids fluttering closed. I blink them open and pull away. Continuing up the stairs, I pause at the apartment call box and turn.
“Thank you,” I say, “for saving me.”
Zayn just peers up at me, his hands now in his pockets, waiting.
“You don’t have to wait f—” I start, but just then a loud buzzing sounds and I turn and reach for the heavy gold door.
I say nothing as I maintain eye contact with Zayn over my shoulder. His intense gaze pierces me as he watches me enter the building. The heavy door closes with a thud, but I can still see his tall form lingering through the frosted glass.
He had better not be planning to stay out there all night,I think.
And yet… I can’t help but feel cared for. Protected.
The image of Zayn standing there, tall and dark, stays seared into my head as Bea flies down the stairs and envelops me into a tight hug.
____________________
I sit curled up on Bea’s pink velvet couch, my chilly hands wrapped around a mug of hot tea. I tell her the full story of the attack, with as much detail as I can recall in my vodka-drenched state. With Bea’s input, we decide that I will immediately call the police if I ever see Josh again. But hopefully, Zayn’s brutal beating would be enough to scare him off and keep him away for good.
God, he had been terrifying. An image of him charging down the alley, pummeling his massive fists into Josh’s face again and again eclipses my brain.
A shudder runs down my spine, and I clutch the hot tea in my hand tight. Bea leans over and gives my knee a gentle squeeze. I let my head fall back on the throw pillow Bea had put there, closing my eyes, and letting out a long breath.
In my explanation to Bea, I conveniently leave out the whole reason for my little jaunt into the city in the first place. I tell her nothing about finding the note and hunting down Dad’s doctor. I would tell her at some point, but I first need to make senseof it for myself. I also conveniently fail to mention the details of Zayn’s little foray as “Mr. Dillon” in my therapy office.
The truth behind what Zayn is up to and who he really is needs to be my own, at least for now. And I know Bea will rush to my defense in writing him off as some crazy stalker. And I’m not saying that’s not exactly what Zayn is… but he is also something more. I can just feel it.
My head lifts from the pillow and Bea surveys me closely. She knows I am keeping something from her. She doesn’t press me though. Instead, she refills my tea, and scooches Ollie, her golden retriever, closer to me on the couch. He snuggles in and I absentmindedly stroke one of his silky paws. My eyes close as I replay the night’s events.
How had Zayn known I was in trouble tonight?The niggling question lingers in the back of my brain. He had appeared and come to my aid so quickly. Seemingly out of nowhere.
Mentally, I fixate on the image of him watching me while I waited for Bea to buzz me in—just standing there, like some stoic guard. A protector. A guardian.
Awatcher.
Then, suddenly, it dawns on me. Like a key into a lock, fitting perfectly to reveal what’s on the other side. My eyes fly open, and the blood in my veins boils.
That mother fucker.
12
KEYS
ZAYN
