Page 86 of Broken Pieces
She pulls her knees in tighter. “Go home, Zane.”
I ignore her.
A car passes, headlights sliding across her features.
In that quick flash, I see all of it—the red eyes, the cracked bravado, the girl who’s been told she’s temporary her whole damn life.
I look away before she catches me staring.
I lean back, arms folded.
“You know I’ll only stay here and annoy the shit out of you all night if you don’t come with me.”
She glares, lips pressed tight. The kind of stare that’s meant to scare me off, but it does the complete fucking opposite.
A long beat passes before she exhales hard, shoulders dropping.
“Fine,” she mutters, pushing herself to her feet. “One night. After that, you leave me the fuck alone.”
I grin.
Skylar grabs her bags with force, rough movements hiding the shake in her hands. I catch it anyway.
“Which way?” she asks.
“This way.”
“Well, lead the way,” she says, tone clipped, but there’s a tiny tremor at the edge of it that tells me what she refuses to.
She's scared.
I shove my hands in my pockets and start walking.
We walk in silence. The town hums around us.
Our steps fall out of sync, only to fall back together again, without meaning to.
Skylar keeps her head down, bag strap cutting into her shoulder. Every few seconds, she adjusts it, rolling her shoulder to take the pressure off.
The streetlights hit her hair and turn it gold for half a second before the shadows take it back.
I force my hands to stay shoved in my pockets, nails carving crescents into my palms. If I pull them out, I’ll reach for her. I fucking know it.
She cuts me a side glance. “Why did you come?”
I let a slow grin crawl across my face.
“Wanted to see if you’re still making terrible decisions without my help.”
Her mouth curves, not quite a smile. “What are you, my babysitter now?”
“Babysitters get paid.”
That earns a quiet huff that could almost be mistaken asa laugh.
We pass the 7-Eleven, the flicker of the half-dead sign throwing light across her face. There’s a bruise forming along her temple I didn’t notice before.
“Who did that?” I ask.
