Page 28 of Fracture

I feel a slight pang of shame. “Maybe I was too harsh on him.”

Zee shakes their head, tossing their purple dreads. “He’s not owed forgiveness just because he’s not an asshole anymore. And to be fair, Dylan didn’t just get called names, he got black eyes.”

I lift my eyes with a sigh. “So, why would you want me to go out with Jared?”

Zee suppresses a smirk, and shrugs. “I’m not ashamed to admit, I wanted to see what would happen.”

“You were testing them, weren’t you?”

Zee’s brows knit together. “Them? I mean, Dylan, yeah.” They look back down at their tools, winding the cord of a hairdryer around itself. “I think he needed a push to see that he needed to act to get you back.”

My throat runs dry. Of course Zee wasn’t pushing Levi because he’s my damn stepbrother. I’m already letting the cat out of the bag. I need these men out of my house before I lose my mind.

“Well, I don’t know if it did that. I kinda acted like a royal pain in the ass on Friday.”

Zee raises their eyebrows and laughs lightly. “Yeah, I heard about that. My cousin works for Mario, and said his new boss’s sister gave them quite a show at the staff party.”

I sink into the chair with a groan, covering my face with my hands. “I don’t even know what came over me. I made a martini with the vermouth you bought me, I’m going to blame you.”

“Oh sure, blame me for morphing into Stripper Barbie, bitch.” Zee huffs out a laugh as I sink further into the chair. “You know, you could just let Dylan take you out on a date rather than strip off in front of his employees.”

“What is wrong with me?” I drop my hands to pout at Zee’s reflection. “I’m being an ass and I don’t even know why.”

Zee grips my shoulders with their warm hands, and lowers their head next to mine, smiling warmly at me in the mirror. “My sweet girl, you have been through it. Stop overthinking, and just be with them. Stop thinking about who you were, and what was, and think about what could be. Think about how happy you could all be.” They wrap their arms around my shoulders and hug me, and I grip onto them with everything I’ve got. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

“Give my man a chance, huh?” They kiss my cheek and tuck my hair behind my ear. “He’s like a big wounded puppy dog when he’s around you.”

“I know. He’s gorgeous.” I swipe away the lone tear that manages to breach my lashes, and turn my head to smile at Zee. “Why do I go to therapy when I have you?”

“Comes with the territory.” Zee holds up a hand and shrugs. “You become half-therapist, listening to everyone’s problems here.”

“I’ll bet.” We both glance over at the door as the bell tinkles and a woman with short blonde hair in black trousers and a neat cream blouse steps into the salon. Her heels clack on the marble floor, and Zee smiles warmly as they walk over to the counter.

“Hi there, what can I help you with today?”

“Hi, I’m actually looking for Stella Langford.” As she says my name, her gaze lands on me where I’m still sitting in my chair. She raises a hand in greeting and starts to approach me. “Stella! Mallory Harris, Channel Four News. Can we have a-”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Zee rounds the counter and blocks Mallory’s path, one lithe arm pointing at the door. “You get the hell out of my place, and stop harassing my client.”

“I just want to talk to her.”

I snatch up my purse and rise out of the chair. “I don't talk to reporters.” I move across the salon, and nod at Zee. “Thanks, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Stella, have you heard about Gloria Fenton’s interview?” Mallory asks as I pass her by, and I stop in my tracks. Her eyes fix on my face as I meet her gaze, and she smiles softly. “Hi Stella, I’m really sorry to ambush you like this, but I thought you deserved to know.”

“Deserved to know what?”

She gestures to the door with a sweep of her hand. “Shall we go get a coffee and talk?”

“Oh hell no,” Zee pipes up, crossing their arms over their chest. “You want to talk to her, you do it right here. I’m not leaving her alone with you vultures again.”

Mallory’s certainty slips a little, and she holds up her clasped hands. “Stella, I’m not here to hurt you or catch you out, I just wanted to talk.”

“You can talk right here,” Zee says with a jab of their finger in the direction of the plush armchairs by the door.

“We don’t trust reporters.” My voice is cooler than I intended, but I’m not going to feel bad about that. Instead, I stride over the armchair and dip my head in the direction of the other one. “Come. Sit. We can talk freely here.”

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