21. Isla
CHAPTER 21
ISLA
My day at work had been…uneventful. I was used to busy days and being immersed in my job, and this week, I just…wasn’t. My thoughts were on the man I left in bed this morning.
After his “talk” yesterday evening, he drove me home. I had nothing to say to him. What could I say? Thanks for telling me a horrific story as to why you’re a borderline psychopath. The moment I’d seen him come through the door to the apartment, wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, his knuckles bleeding, I knew I didn’t need to know the details of where he had just been.
On the drive home, we made small talk, and then he returned to work after giving me a gentle kiss on the lips.
He never woke me when he slipped in bed beside me during the early hours of the morning, and I was just as quiet while getting ready for work today.
Avoiding each other while living together wasn’t sustainable; I knew that. I also understood that Zayn was not a patient man, and he would soon make himself and the situation unavoidable .
Or he was allowing me time to process.
I’d listened to Zayn explain why he was the way he was; well, I thought that was the point of the history lesson. Jesus, I sounded like a bitch. I understood why he believed he had no choice but to become one of them . One of the very people who had beaten his mother and father.
I wondered if he had ever heard the saying “If you can’t beat them, join them.” Did he realize he had joined them? He couldn’t possibly believe he had beaten them, could he?
His life—his everyday life—was so far removed from mine that I couldn’t grasp how we could progress without any common ground. What did we really share? Sex? Was that all we were? Physical attraction? What happened when that changed?
As soon as I had that thought, I dismissed it. I was in love with him, and my feelings for him were so much more than how insanely hot he was. I mean , it certainly helped… I chuckled at my inner thoughts. Exhaling deeply, I tugged at my ponytail.
I was in love with him.
The more I said it, the easier it became to admit. Not in an “if you say it enough times, you’ll believe it” way; I was simply more comfortable saying it than I had been before. I hadn’t told Zayn. I knew he cared for me, but I was uncertain of where he stood on the scale. Was it frenemies with benefits, or was it something more? I mean, he said that no one touched what was his. Did that include me?
I thought it did. But I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure he felt the same way as I did.
But did it really matter?
Good grief, I needed to talk to someone. I couldn’t keep this up; it was messing with my head as I thought through all the variations of how Zayn and I worked. Talking to Julian was out of the question for so many reasons, the main one being what had happened, and I also needed a Switzerland. I picked up my phone and called Sienna.
“Hey, it’s me.”
“Oh, you remember that I’m alive, do you?” she teased, and I instantly smiled at her playful tone. “Can I just say you're the worst bridesmaid ever?”
I winced. “Okay, that’s fair,” I conceded. “Do you want to grab a coffee with me today? I need some girl time.”
I heard her muffle the phone, and then she came back on. “I’m free after two?”
“Perfect! See you at BonBons at three?”
“I’ll be there with bells on,” she said, and I could hear her smile. “So you can identify the stranger, right?”
“Oh my god, it’s only been a few weeks!”
“I know .” She hung up before I could respond.
In hindsight, Sienna might not have been the best choice for coffee. Still, at two thirty, I left my office and made my way to downtown Gracemont. It was a gorgeous summer day, and my light, floaty skirt and sleeveless V-neck blouse were perfect for sitting outside. But…I needed relationship advice, and the sidewalk in downtown Gracemont was not the best place for discretion.
I chose to sit inside in the far back corner and pretended it was because of the air-conditioning and lack of pollution from passing cars. I ordered a caramel iced coffee for myself and Sienna’s drink of choice and prepared to wait. I thought about what I would say, knowing I couldn’t say everything .
She came in, dressed for summer in denim cutoffs, a striped vest, and oversized sunglasses that obscured half her face. She spotted me and waved while approaching, noticing I already had her drink. We exchanged the faux cheek kiss, which I still hated, but it felt familiar, so I found comfort in it .
“You look terrible,” Sienna said as she sat down, reaching for her drink. She sipped her overpriced iced chai as if she hadn’t just dropped a verbal grenade.
I gave her a dead-eyed stare. “Thanks. Just what every woman wants to hear.”
“Don’t snap at me. You’re the one who finally reached out for coffee.” She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. “So…what’s going on? Why haven’t I seen you in ages?”
I stirred my drink with my straw without tasting it. “It’s just...work.”
Sienna swatted my hand, and I flinched in surprise. “Bullshit. That’s not a work face. That’s a relationship-spiral face.”
I stayed silent.
Sienna grinned triumphantly. “I knew it. Zayn?” She waited patiently. “There’s no way you two haven’t been a thing. I saw you together at the club that night. Then you went AWOL. Girl, I know what a new relationship feels like.” She paused. “I think…there was a time I knew…”
“You’re marrying the love of your life,” I said flatly.
“Yeah. Three years into our relationship, we don’t have the same glow we had when we first met. We’re more…weathered.”
“Weathered? Says every nearly bride everywhere. Who claimed romance was dead?”
“We can discuss me later. I’d like to hear about you. It’s really Zayn, isn’t it?”
I rolled my eyes. “You say that like it’s a surprise.”
“Well, excuse me for being shocked that you’re still sleeping with the man who once made an event planner cry in the ladies’ room.” She raised a brow. “You do remember what he did to you at the gala?”
“Of course, I remember,” I muttered, not meeting her gaze .
Her eyes widened. “Oh my god! You’ve fallen for him.” She stared at me, her mouth agape in surprise. “Do you love him?”
“No,” I snapped, then sighed. “Maybe.” I closed my eyes. This was why I was here. “Yes.”
She tilted her head. “Wow. Okay, I wasn’t expecting love. I thought you’d hate screw and move on. Give me a minute. I need to recalibrate.” She sipped her drink, watching me closely. “Okay, so let’s talk about it. What’s the problem?”
I hesitated. How did I explain that the man I loved could also order a body to disappear before breakfast?
My phone vibrated, and I jumped in surprise. Checking it quickly, I saw it was only Gerard asking what time tomorrow’s event started. I turned the phone over.
“It’s complicated.”
“It will always be complicated with him.”
Ouch. I fiddled with the edge of my napkin. “Why would you say that?”
“Because he’s shit hot, shady as fuck, and… Zayn .”
“He could be different,” I protested weakly, knowing he wasn’t.
“Or you are,” Sienna said gently.
That was too close to the truth. I broke her gaze once more.
“I’m not judging you, Isla,” Sienna said gently. “You’re a grown-ass woman. If you want a guy with a jawline carved from sin and a mysterious past, go for it.” She sipped again. “But don’t pretend this is a normal situation. You look like you haven’t slept. You flinched when your phone buzzed. That’s not ‘new relationship glow.’ That’s stress.”
“It isn't him,” I said swiftly.
She didn’t look convinced. “Then what is it? ”
I stared at her for a long moment. “Have you ever…loved someone who scares you a little?”
She blinked. “Whoa.”
“I don’t mean like scares, scares,” I added hastily. “He would never hurt me.” I noticed her expression and recalled her earlier reminder of what he did at the gala. “Physically. He would never hurt me physically, and all the other…issues…are behind us.”
“Then why does he scare you?”
“I mean...he lives in a world I don’t understand. I don’t fit in it. But when I’m with him, I feel like I do...”
“And that’s what scares you?” she asked with remarkable insight.
I nodded. “And it terrifies me more than anything else.”
Sienna leaned forward, her voice now softer. “Then you must decide if it’s real...or simply chemistry disguised as destiny.”
I bit my lip. “I’ve tried to leave him behind.” I noticed her inquisitive stare. “I broke it off already before. But…”
“You couldn’t stay away?” she guessed.
Or I was kidnapped and he rescued me , but I knew I couldn’t say that. “Yeah,” I replied instead.
“And?”
“I don’t think I want to be without him.”
She sipped her drink while studying me. “This deep so soon?”
I knew it was insane. “Yeah,” I admitted. “It’s...it’s crazy.”
“You fell for McCabe?” she asked again, as if she just wanted to confirm.
“Hook, line, and sinker.”
Sienna let out a soft laugh. “I didn’t have that on my bingo card,” she said, shaking her head. “Okay, what do you need from me? ”
I didn’t know. “Validation?” I fumbled. “Advice? To tell me I’m crazy, it’s way too soon, and he is Zayn McCabe , who I hate.” I winced at those words. “Hated?” I sighed. “I never hated him. I think ‘disapproved’ is more truthful.”
“Ugh, this feels like watching a truly terrible car crash,” she muttered though her eyes sparkled with excitement. “Also, I think I love this for you.”
“Huh?”
“How many times have I told you that you need to slow down?” she scolded. “Now, I won’t have to. There is no way you’ll work yourself into an early grave when you have Zayn in your life. I mean, is he good in bed?” She didn’t pause. “He is, isn’t he? I bet he’s an animal.”
I did not like the speculative look in her eye. “Back on track,” I muttered.
Sienna cackled with delight. “Look at that scowl! You’re jealous of me even thinking about it!”
“Can you be serious?” I asked, feeling the frustration returning. “I really need advice.”
“Okay, okay.” She noticed my expression. “I said okay,” she stated, calming down and sitting up straighter. “Let me catch up. You hooked up?” I nodded. “You got into a relationship?” I nodded again. “You left?” My head jerked in a quick nod. “Then…you came back? Did he fight for you?”
I took a sip of my melted coffee. Had he? Technically, he had come to rescue me from the situation Julian had put me in, but did he fight for me? No…
“Um…it’s complicated.”
“Then uncomplicate it,” Sienna said plainly. “You mentioned you were afraid. Of what? Him?”
I shook my head rapidly. “No.”
She blew out her cheeks as she thought about it. “Why did you break it off? ”
“What?”
“When you broke it off? Why?”
How much could I tell her? “Reality,” I replied sincerely. “His…work…shattered the bubble of denial I was living in.”
Sienna narrowed her eyes. “Shady?” I remained silent, and she nodded in understanding. “Knew it.” She took a deep breath. “You always knew who he was, Isla.”
I heard the reprimand. Had I? Yes . “I did,” I said as I tore the corner of my napkin farther. “I was very vocal about it…”
Sienna laughed lightly. “Yeah, Julian got so many lectures!” She tilted her head. “What does he think?”
Can. Worms. Argh. “I wanted to talk to you. You’re not as…invested.”
“What? You think I don’t care ?”
“God, no,” I corrected myself. “You’re more…Switzerland. Neutral. Julian’s…biased. He’s friends with both of us.”
“True.”
Glad she was appeased, I waited for her words of wisdom.
“I think…” She chewed on her straw. “I think maybe you should stop trying to leave and start trying to understand,” she said slowly. “I think there is more than you’re telling me, and I understand that. I say he’s shady, but honestly, I don’t really know him. I know of him. I know you don’t get all his money so quickly at his age honestly .” She didn’t seem put off by that. “But I know if you're sitting in a coffee shop asking me for relationship advice, then you're all in.”
She reached over and patted my hand. “And if you are, and I know you are…” She hesitated. “If he can’t meet you halfway, Isla—if he can’t make room for who you are too—then all the love in the world won’t be enough for you to be happy.” She touched my hand again. “Don’t lose yourself in him. ”
I nodded slowly, but her words felt heavier than they should have.
Because what if Zayn wasn’t the problem?
What if I didn’t know who I was anymore?
I had always believed that control felt like spreadsheets and structure—color-coded planners and timelines that didn’t bend.
But the control Zayn had was different. It wasn’t neat. It was quiet, perilous, and substantial.
And, God help me, I understood it better than I ever imagined I could.
We sat in silence for a moment before I changed the conversation and became absorbed in the wedding planning. The mood lightened, but as we said goodbye, I could tell my friend was concerned for me, and I realized I had done nothing to alleviate her worries.
I drove back to the house instead of returning to work. I made sure there were no cars behind me as I turned into the entrance, just as Rye taught me. Always be sure you weren’t being followed. It worried me that I accepted that warning so calmly.
When I returned, the house was too still, meaning Zayn wasn’t home yet, and Rye was nowhere to be seen.
They were likely having an ordinary Thursday, not the kind where their entire identity was slowly unraveling.
I dropped my purse on the counter, kicked off my shoes, and walked barefoot across the open space to the kitchen. The floor was cool against my skin, grounding me when everything else felt as if it were shifting beneath my feet.
Sienna’s words now echoed louder in the silence than they did over coffee.
Don’t lose yourself in him.
But what if it were too late? What if, somewhere between stolen nights and whispered confessions, I had already given away pieces of myself I couldn’t get back?
Restless, I went upstairs to change and sat on the edge of the bed—the one that had stopped feeling like his and had somehow become ours —and stared at the folded hoodie at the foot of it. His scent still clung to the fabric.
God, I missed him. Even when he was away for just a few hours, I felt it. That tether. That ache.
It was neither normal nor smart, and it certainly wasn’t safe.
But it was real. It was so goddamn real.
He had shown me a side of himself that no one else got to see. The significance of that mattered. And yet…it made everything more difficult.
Because now I couldn’t pretend he was just some beautiful mistake. He wasn’t.
Zayn McCabe had been forged by fire, pressure, and scars I was just beginning to understand. He hadn’t chosen this life—not in the way most people believed. Not in the way I had believed.
He’d clawed his way into it so that no one could ever take anything from him again.
And I admired that. Even when I hated it.
I leaned back on the bed, arms spread wide, gazing up at the ceiling fan as it turned in leisurely circles.
“I can’t lose myself,” I whispered, almost like a mantra.
But the truth was, I already had.
Not to him.
To us .
And that was the scariest part.