I still haven’t figured that out.
Shooting him a narrow-eyed look when he catches me staring and winks, I turn away before he can see the smile threatening to curl my lips.
People are bundled up in their coats, bustling down the street and in and out of shops.
My attention snags on a person walking down the road. They have masculine features and are dressed in a big poofy purple dress. Then I do smile. My mother would turn her nose up at the eccentrics in Seattle, but I’ve always admired their confidence and ability to be comfortable with who they are.
“I hope they’re happy,” I murmur. When Zade looks at me curiously, I nod towards the individual in the purple dress. “This world can be so cruel. So, I hope they’re happy.”
Zade is quiet for a beat. “Happiness is fleeting. All that matters is that they’re living their life the way they want to.”
“You believe that?” I ask, facing him. “That happiness is fleeting?”
He shrugs, tossing the last bite of his cone into his mouth, and chews as he contemplates something.
“Absolutely,” he says finally. “It’s not something solid you can hold on to. It’s vapor in the wind, and all you can do is inhale it when it’s near and hope it comes around again when it blows away.”
I nod, having to agree with that.
Shivering, I eat the last of my cone, the icy breeze stirring up my hair, sending the tendrils dancing. Zade catches them and gathers my hair until it’s lying straight down my back. I can’t help but tense, though I don’t stop him from whatever he’s doing. He removes his leather jacket and wraps it around me, trapping my flyaway hair beneath the heavy warmth.
“Thank you,” I whisper, bundling further into the jacket, overcome with emotion for a reason I can’t explain. His jacket smells of leather, spice, and a hint of smoke, and as I inhale his comforting scent, tears burn the backs of my eyes.
Maybe because this is the best I’ve felt in so long, and that kind of makes me want to cry.
He gives me a soft smile, his mismatched orbs bright. Even the scar slashing down his white eye can’t take away from how at peace he looks right now.
“You’re welcome, baby.”
My heart thuds, and I finally recognize why I feel so emotional.
Turning back to watch the city, I lean my head on his shoulder and inhale deeply.
This happiness may be fleeting, but I’ve never been surer that it’ll be back
Chapter 25
The Diamond
“Can I take you somewhere?” Zade asks. I’ve just stepped out of the bathroom from my shower, yanking a brush through my wet, tangled hair. I tear the bristles through a particularly brutal knot, uncaring of the way the strands tear.
“Baby, you’re hurting your hair. Let me brush it.”
Feeling defeated, I slump my shoulders, trudge over to him, and sit on the floor between his spread knees.
He takes the brush from me and gently starts running it through the sopping tresses, slowly detangling the mop on my head.
It feels nice, but I’m too tired to appreciate it.
Another two weeks have passed, and it’s a constant up and down battle. Turns out, one of the men did give me chlamydia, and it only cemented that feeling of filth ingrained deep in my bones.
I cried, confessed my diagnosis to Zade, and then cried even harder when he was nothing but supportive. It’s been treated, but that lingering repulsion lingers, sinking its claws deep into my membrane.
He’s probably used every word in the English language to assure me that I’m not disgusting or that he doesn’t see me differently, but it didn’t change how I viewed myself.
Zade was right. Happiness is fleeting, however, over the past weeks, he’s done everything in his power to help me hold on to any semblance of peace.
Finishing with the brush, he sets it down on the bed and gathers my hair together. I nearly choke when he begins braiding it.
“Where the hell did you learn to do that?” I ask. I’m tempted to twist around like a dog chasing its tail, just so I can witness this.
“Ruby taught me,” he answers quietly. “There was a young girl that I rescued a few years ago, and she wouldn’t let anyone else touch her but me at first. She loved braids in her hair, so I learned how to do them for her. Got pretty fucking good at it, too.”
My lip trembles, and I’m forced to suck it between my teeth to keep the sob in.
Bastard of a man.
Just when I think I can’t fall in love with him any more than I already have, he goes and does this shit.
There’s no denying that he’s going to be a great father one day, and though the thought scares me, I don’t want anyone else but me to have the privilege of seeing it happen.
“Oh,” I whisper.
“Let me see your wrist band,” he says. I raise my arm, and he drags it off my hand and ties off the braid.
“Thank you,” I murmur, standing and turning to face him. I’m in a weird internal war where I want to crawl onto his lap, but the thought of actually doing it makes me break out into hives. “Where did you want to take me?”
“I want to show you something-someone, too. But I thought maybe seeing this would… help you.”
My brows pinch, but I nod, curious about what he thinks could possibly help me. As far as I’m concerned, I’m a lost cause. Hopeless. Helpless. And all the synonyms for those words, too.
During the forty-five-minute drive, Zade tells me all about how he got suspended in high school and almost didn’t graduate. It was a senior prank-he glitter-bombed the entire school, and they had to spend the rest of the year surrounded by pink sparkles.
One of these days, I’m going to have to make him show me pictures of his younger self. He says he’s always had heterochromia, and I can only imagine how much the ladies loved that.
Eventually, we pull up to a massive gate with several armed guards standing outside. As soon as they spot Zade’s car, they let him through without hesitation.
We drive down a long dirt driveway that leads to what appears to be a mini village. There’s a massive, long building in the center with several smaller one’s surrounding it.
There’s also an enormous greenhouse, which is where most of the activity is. People are milling about, carrying baskets of fruits and vegetables. A group of girls walk together, giggling and whispering to one another as they make their way towards one of the smaller buildings. All of them are kids or women that I can see.
“Where are we?”
“This is where the survivors go if they don’t have a safe home to return to.”
My gaze snaps to him, then quickly turns back to my surroundings, taking everything in with a whole new perspective.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.