Page 10 of The Star in Room 7

I scratch my jaw. “That would be terrifying. Any injuries?”

“No, thankfully. Not physical ones, anyway. Will you talk to him? Just talk. He’s not ready for more than that.”

“Of course. I’m always happy to help where I can, you know that.”

“Thank you. Wait here, and I’ll fetch him.”

“Sure thing.”

Phoenix sweeps out of the room. I swear that man would float if he could. I stand and inspect some of the flowers, wondering which Angel is interested in indoor plants. Whoever they are, they’re doing a good job.

I return to the chair, put my cell on do not disturb, and tap my fingers together. How long has the boy Phoenix wants me to help been here? Referring to him as a ‘newcomer’ doesn’t help much. He might have been here for a month already, and only just be ready to talk, or he could have arrived within the last few days.

I look up at the sound of footsteps, smiling as Phoenix walks in the door, leading a young man in his early to mid-twenties. He has a physique that makes it clear he’s no stranger to a gym, brown hair that grazes his strong jaw, and a nervous smile. He has the sort of face you’d expect to see on a poster in a teenage girl’s room. In fact, I have seen him on a poster in a teenage girl’s room. My niece’s room, to be precise. He’s Zach Taylor, Cassie’s latest heartthrob.

“This is Nate,” Phoenix says.

“Hi. Umm… Nice to meet you,” Zach says in a polite English accent, which is definitely not what I was expecting.

3

ZACH

“Nice to meet you, too,” Nate says.

He has an easy-to-listen-to voice—warm and friendly. In fact, ‘warm’ seems to fit him to a T. His skin has tanned to a deep gold, which makes his hazel eyes pop, and a small scar near the corner of his right eye stand out more than it probably should. He has another scar—a long, thin one, running across his forehead. His hair is dark, short, and spiky, and he has a neatly groomed mustache and beard. His white shirt and suit jacket make me feel underdressed, even though I’m wearing nice clothes from the closet.

I’m not sure how old Nate is, other than older than me by at least ten years. Maybe closer to fifteen. His skin isn’t lined, and he doesn’t have a trace of gray in his hair. But this is LA—he could be investing in dye and Botox for all I know. I don’t think he is, though. He has a natural, healthy air about him. I can tell he works out by the way his arms fill out his suit jacket. He’s handsome, in a makes-you-breathless kind of way.

I immediately turn away, focusing on a plant instead. I have the opposite of a green thumb, so I’m impressed at the number of flourishing plants in the conservatory. I shouldn’t be ogling a guy I’ve only just met, especially after what happened last night.

Phoenix touches my arm lightly. “Would you like me to stay, or give you some privacy?”

“Umm…” I don’t think Phoenix would have introduced me to someone I can’t trust. Besides, he must have more important things to do. “I’ll be fine with Nate, thanks.”

Phoenix smiles at me, nods to Nate, and then goes, leaving the door between the conservatory and the house slightly ajar as he goes.

I return to thoroughly investigating the plants.

“Phoenix said you want to talk,” Nate prompts gently after a few minutes have passed.

Do I? I said I did, but now that I’m here, I’m not sure I do.

“So… Uh… You’re one of the patrons Phoenix told me about?”

“Yes.”

I glance over my shoulder. “You’re a caregiver?” I ask, shocked at the uncertain wobble in my voice.

“A Daddy, yes, but Phoenix said you only wanted to talk.”

“I do. Want to talk. I don’t know why it’s so hard.”

“Phoenix mentioned a home-invasion,” Nate says gently.

“Yes.”

“That must have been traumatic. You’re probably still processing it. It’s not surprising your fight or flight response is kicking in and making it hard for you to talk about it.”