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“You played me.” I sniffle as the tears burn my eyes with the realization she sent me here to play matchmaker. She played the long game.
“Only a little,” she admits. “I was hopeful that eventually, you’d feel up to seeing someone, and I trust Quinn.”
“Seriously, how did you not know?” I wipe away a rogue tear and stand, following her directions to the next bus stop.
“Some days, I overlook the minute details when searching for the big-ticket issues,” she says, and I get where she is going with it. Instead of focusing on gender, she focuses on understanding who Quinn is as a person, like arrests and felonies—the full background check. Sex is easily overlooked. “Which brings me back to my question. How well are you allowing yourself to get to know them?”
“I’m not,” I whisper.
“Okay, but what do you know so far?”
I nibble on my bottom lip, biting hard enough so it burns. Taking a deep, steady breath, I blow it out. “Quinn.” I say his name, and a little ache blooms in my chest. I have to massage it away. “He’s easy,” I whisper, tears filling my vision. “When he touches me, I feel like I’m coming home after being lost at sea for too long.” I just drove that feeling of home as far away from me as I possibly could.
I’m a feral bitch.
“And?” she prompts.
“He’s so willing to just help me. Honestly, every other word out of his mouth is just begging for a chance.” Stupid tears keep falling. “He feels safe.”
“And that scares you.” Cayenne doesn’t pull a single punch, and honestly, it’s mildly rude of her.
“Yes,” I admit, my voice cracking. “It terrifies me because everyone who has ever felt safe has eventually hurt me.”
Or left, but I can’t quite get those words out of my mouth.
Even so, my honesty hangs in the air, the truth of them settling into my bones. I’ve been running for so long, I don’t know how to stop, how to let someone in, or how to trust that they won’t shatter me into a million pieces.
Noah. It’s his fucking fault.
“I know, Aria.” Cayenne’s voice is soft and understanding. “But not everyone is like that. Quinn is different. I wouldn’t have sent you to him if I didn’t believe that with every fiber of my being.”
I can also read between the lines—Cayenne believes in the whole Clarke pack, and I should give them a chance.
I nod, even though she can’t see me. Deep down, I know she’s right—Quinn has shown me nothing but kindness and patience, even when I’ve pushed him away. When I’ve been a complete mess, he’s still been there, steady and unwavering.
“You’re right,” I whisper, wiping away the last of my tears. “I know you’re right. It’s just…hard.”
“I know it is, but you’re strong, Aria, stronger than you give yourself credit for. You can do this.” She pauses. “What about the others?” Cayenne prompts gently.
I think about Malachi, with his gentle giant presence and fierce protectiveness. “Malachi is…solid. Dependable. He makes me feel like he’d go to war for me without a single thought to himself,” I whisper. Hell, I only met the guy once, and he refused to leave my side until I was behind my apartment door, and even then, he hung around.
“Good. That’s good, Aria. And Zane?”
Zane. Just his name sends a shiver down my spine. “He’s intense. Magnetic. When he looks at me, I feel…exposed, like he can see right through me and straight into my soul.” He probably can see right through me. He pushes me without even knowing who I am as a person, a woman.
He also believes I’m a beta.
“Mm-hmm. Sounds like quite the combo. A hacker, a warrior, and a… What did you say Zane does again?”
I let out a watery chuckle. “I don’t know, actually, but I get the feeling it’s not exactly legal.” Clearing my throat, I answer, “He works with Malachi. They all make up Puritan City Alpha Security.”
She hums over the line. “That just leaves…”
“Dash,” I supply, and a giggle spills out of my mouth. “He wants me to watch his band Friday night.”
“He seems like he could teach you how to laugh again.” She sighs softly. “Babe, I fucking miss your laugh.”
I don’t know why that’s what breaks me, but it is. Maybe because it’s a reminder of how much I’ve lost. Or maybe because deep down, I want to find that laughter again. Damn it, Cayenne, stop being right all the time.
