Chapter Thirteen
Zane
Rainer’s still talking when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I pull it out, thumb slick with oil, streaking black across the glass until her name cuts through it.
Cassie.
I answer.
Her voice hits through the static, fast and shaking. “She’s at the library. Says she’s got nowhere to go.”
Nowhere.
The word slides under my skin and stays there.
Everything in me goes tight.
Rainer’s still talking, but those words are just noise now. All I can hear is that one word burning through the rest.
The words rip out before I can swallow them. “What the fuck do you mean nowhere?”
“She aged out,” Cassie rushes. “Dolores told her to leave this morning. She’s been sitting out front of the library since school ended. I tried to stay, but she told me to go. Zane, she won’t let me help her. Skylar says she’s fine, but she’s not fine.”
Her voice cracks on fine and the sound goes straight through me.
All the places I thought were numb start bleeding again.
The world dulls.
The compressor hums somewhere behind me, metal hits metal, but the rest is just static now.
I press the phone harder to my ear, oil slicking down my wrist.
Skylar.
The sound of her name burns. Always has.
“You sure she’s still there?” My voice isn’t steady. Never is when she’s involved.
“She hasn’t moved since I left. Please, just—”
The line dies.
Silence.
It hits hard, heavy enough to bend my knees and settle in my chest.
“Zane?” Rainer’s voice cuts through the fog, distant, like he’s calling me from another world. “You good?”
No, not even fucking close.
I drag in a breath and grab a rag off the bench, smearing the grease deeper into my palms instead of wiping it away.
“I gotta deal with something,” I mutter. My voice sounds wrong. Hollow. “I’ll finish this when I get back.”
He stares at me a second too long, eyes narrowing like he knows I’m walking straight into trouble. Then he nods. “Be careful, kid.”
There’s nothing careful left in me.
I toss the rag onto the bench, and push through the door.
The door swings shut behind me, and the air hits— that spring kind of chill that hides under the sunlight and waits for night to fall. I shove my hands into my pockets and start walking. The sky’s soft, pale blue bleeding into dusk.
Cassie’s words keep looping in my head. "She’s got nowhere."
Skylar. Fuck.
Today’s her birthday.
I remembered this morning. Eighteen now, probably rolling her eyes at anyone dumb enough to make it a big deal. I told myself not to reach out, not to make things weird.
Now she’s sitting outside a goddamn library with a bag and nowhere to go.
I pass the 7-Eleven on Fifth. The two closed down shopfronts and the cracked bus stop where I stayed the night.
Kids yell a few streets over. The pavement’s uneven. I pass the laundromat that always smells like damp clothes and burnt lint.
My hands stay deep in my pockets. My jaw won’t unclench.
I see her before she sees me.
Out front of the library, folded in on herself, a bag by her feet. Her head’s down, forehead to her knees.
From a distance, she looks small. Too small for someone who always bites first.
But it’s the quiet that gets me because Skylar isn’t quiet. She spits fire, starts fights she can’t finish, walks into a room like she owns the oxygen.
This version of her, hunched, shaking, pretending the world can’t see her, hurts to fucking look at.
I tell myself to walk away. This isn’t my fucking problem, it never was. But my feet don’t listen. My body never fucking listens when it comes to her.
I keep my head down and walk faster. Every step makes the anger worse. The burn that sits right behind my ribs and won’t fuck off.
I don’t even know Skylar, not really. Just the edges. The sharp parts. The pieces that don’t belong to anyone. And still, something in me won’t let it go.
This isn’t pity or duty, not because we came from the same foster home. This is something else. Something I don’t have a name for, and I don’t fucking want one.
I tell myself it’s nothing.
But my hands are already in fists, my jaw already locked, my heart already fucking there.
Lying to yourself gets easier the more you do it.
Feeling something when you’re not supposed to, that’s the part that kills you.
I cross the street, lean against the pole in front of the steps, metal cold through my shirt.
“You always hang out in the cold for fun?”
Her head snaps up.
Those beautiful fucking eyes find mine — glassy but still fierce. The burn’s still there, buried under everything else.
“You stalking me now?” she says, voice rough.
I shrug. “Cassie told me you were here.”
She huffs a bitter sound. “Did she also tell you to come play hero?”
“No one’s playing anything.”
“Good,” she mutters. “Because I don’t need saving.”
“Didn’t say you did.”
“Then why are you here, Zane?”
I give her half a grin that doesn’t reach my eyes. “Guess I’m bad at minding my own business.”
She looks away, lips pressed tight.
The silence that follows isn’t awkward. It’s heavy — the kind that has its own weight.
“Go home, Zane.”
“Can’t.”
That earns me a glare, weak but still there. She unzips her bag, pulls out a thin sweater, and slides it on. Her hands tremble when she tugs at the sleeves.
“Are you planning to stay out here all night?” I ask.
She shrugs.
“You’ll freeze.”
“Then I freeze.” Her voice is steady but soft and it hits harder than I expect.
The wind cuts through the street, carrying the scent of rain.
Her hair whips across her face. She pushes strands aside with a shaking hand, trying to stay composed, but the cracks start to show.
I move closer.
Not too close. Enough to force her eyes to mine.
“Come on,” I say quietly.
“Where?”
“My place. You can crash there. One night. Nothing more.”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Sky—”
“I said no. I don’t need your pity.”
“Not pity. It’s fucking common sense.”
“I’m fine. You’ll probably want something in return anyway.”
That one lands. I feel it hit deep, a clean shot straight to the gut.
I want to tell her I hate myself for what happened that night. That I’d take everything back if I could. That I’ve thought about that night more than I should, not because of what she did, but because of how wrong it was to let her believe she was nothing but an object to get off with.
But I don’t say any of it.
“Yeah,” I snap. “You look real fucking fine. Sitting on concrete with a bag for a pillow. Real picture of happiness.”
Her jaw tightens. “You don’t get to talk to me like that.”
“Then stop making me watch this shit.”
She looks away again, stubborn to the core.
“Cassie shouldn’t have called you,” she mutters. “She doesn’t know when to quit.”
“Yeah, she gets that from you.”
Her head snaps up, glare sharp enough to flay skin.
“Don’t.”
“What? Tell you the truth?”
“Act like this is your business.”
“It is now.”
Her mouth opens, pauses, then shuts again.
She’s out of comebacks, and that’s how I can tell she’s tired. The kind of tiredness that sits in your bones and won’t wash off.
I drop down beside her on the cold step. “Fine. We’ll sit here. I’ve got nothing but time.”
She shoots me a look.
“You’re serious?”
“Dead.”
The streetlights turn on, throwing yellow over cracked pavement. A bus rolls past, windows glowing, people staring out but not seeing anything.
“Why do you even care?” she asks finally, voice low, almost a whisper.
I stare at the street ahead. The truth sits heavy in my chest, begging to be said out loud.
Because you’re the only person who ever made me want to be better, and that scares the fuck out of me.
But I keep it buried.
“Guess I’m just wired wrong,” I say.
She exhales, shaky, the fight draining from her face.
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 as a 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.
Her eyes narrow. “No one.”
“Bullshit.”
She speeds up. “Drop it.”
I catch up, voice low. “You know I won’t.”
“You think I owe you an explanation now?”
“No. I just want to find out if I should break someone’s jaw.”
That gets me a glare. “You always need a reason to fight somebody?”
“Only when it’s worth fighting for.”
She shakes her head, muttering something under her breath.
I don’t push it. Not tonight.
We turn down the back street that runs along the side of the workshop.
She stops walking for a second, the strap of her bag slipping lower.
“Give me that,” I say.
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Skylar—”
“I said no.”
She’s stubborn to the fucking core. Still the only girl I’ve ever met who could fold a smile into a fuck-you.
The workshop comes into view, steel siding dull under the streetlight. Upstairs, a single window glows. I forgot to switch off the light this morning.
She slows down before I move over to the large door, her eyes moving over the place. “Is this it?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “I crash on the top floor. It’s not much, but it’s warm. You hungry?”
She crosses her arms. “You always take in strays, or am I just special?”
“Only the ones who bite.” I grin.
She shifts her bag again and side-eyes me. “So what’s the catch?”
“No catch,” I say.
“Bullshit.”
I shrug. “You’re not that interesting, Sky.”
Her mouth quirks into almost a smile.
“You sure know how to make a girl feel special, Rivera.”
I open the door and gesture for her to enter.
She steps through, dragging her bags through the narrow doorway.
And my eyes check her out.
I can’t fucking help it.
Her ass in those jeans? Fuck me.
The kind of curve that makes you forget your name. Makes your hands twitch with the memory of gripping it once, too long ago. There’s exhaustion in the way she moves, but all I see is how fucking hot she is.
Too hot for me to be standing this close without doing something stupid.
I want to fucking touch her. I want to tell her she’s safe. That she can sleep without looking over her shoulder. That I’ll make damn sure no one ever lays a hand on her.
But I don’t.
I brush past her instead, moving across the workshop, heading for the stairs as if she’s not every goddamn temptation I’ve ever fought off.
Rainer doesn’t glance up. He’s elbows-deep under the hood of a beat-up Dodge, radio low, engine ticking. The place could be burning down and he wouldn’t notice.
Good.
Last thing I need is for him clocking the way my eyes drag over her like she’s mine.
The stairs sound under my boots as I take them two at a time. I keep my hands in my pockets and my mouth shut.
Keep your fucking hands to yourself, Rivera.
She’s not yours.
No matter how much she feels like it.