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“I didn’t bring her into our group,” he protests. “She’s just helping us out with a job.”
“She’s in our group,” I disagree. “And to be honest, I want her in our group. I like her. She’s funny and nice and tough and really damn beautiful.”
The muscle in Zay’s jaw pulsates. “Why’re you being like this? I expect this sort of shit from Hunter, but not from you. This isn’t like you. At least not since Willow. But even that was different. Willow was … unique.” He swallows hard. “But Raven … you don’t even know her.”
“I know that.” I chew on my bottom lip. “But it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like I’ve known her for a while, like maybe our souls knew each other in another life or something.”
Zay stares at me, unblinking. “Don’t spout that poetic shit to me. You know I don’t believe in souls.” With that, he opens the door. “Come on; we have a job to do, and I’m not leaving you alone while you’re all worked up like this.”
“Whatever,” I grumble as I walk past him and start down the hallway.
“And you need to focus,” Zay calls out as he hurries after me.
I give him a thumbs-up, knowing he’s right, that being focused while we’re working a job is important. But the moment I step outside and spot Raven standing beside the car, talking to Hunter, I know I’m royally screwed.
Just the sight of her is a distraction. It makes my heart soar again. I hate that I feel this way toward her, feel this instant connection. I haven’t felt this way since the first time I met Willow all those years ago. We had been young, barely four or five, when we first met and I had been crying on the back porch of my dad’s mansion after he backhanded me for bringing a stray dog home. He told me I was too soft, too kind, and those things disgusted him, so he smacked me around, trying to harden me up. He did that a lot, mostly because I did dumb, “soft” shit a lot, like bring stray dogs home, cry, make pinkie promises with the sweetest girl I’ve ever met. Although, that would happen later.
“Are you okay?”was the first thing Willow ever said to me.
It was also the only time anyone had flat-out asked me if I was okay. Yeah, Zay and Hunter were my friends then, but we hadn’t learned yet how to make sure each other was okay. We were all emotionally and physically abused so much it wasn’t something we knew. Willow had taught us that—how to make sure each other was okay.
When I realize she saw me crying, I hurriedly try to wipe away my tears.
“Of course I’m fine,” I lie, trying to play cool, like I wasn’t just bawling like a baby. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you’re crying,” she says matter-of-factly.
“No, I wasn’t,” I snap, feeling embarrassed.
She wavers, chewing on her bottom lip. “Okay, maybe you weren’t. But just so you know, if you do ever feel the need to cry, it’s okay. I do it sometimes, too, and I’m super tough.”
I laugh a bit at that, and she smiles.
“Feel better?” she asks.
Oddly, I do, enough to smile a little. It’s been a long time since I smiled.
I nod. “Yeah, I kind of do.” I pause, looking at her and wondering who she is and why she’s standing in my yard. Not that it’s completely out of the ordinary for a random person or kid to be wandering around. In fact, it happens a lot. But I haven’t seen her before.
“I’m Jax,” I introduce myself. “Who are you?”
She steps toward me. “I’m Willow.”
“Willow, like the willow tree?” I ask, and she nods, smiling at me.
And that smile … it was real. I think it may have been the first real smile I’d ever seen. And I knew in that moment, I wanted to be friends with her.
And we did become friends. Really, really good friends … until that day on the bridge that I still have nightmares about.
About the day I let her die.
And I will carry that guilt with me forever.
In fact, I promised myself that I would.
My penance for what I did.
When I reach the car, Raven tries to catch my gaze, but I refuse to look at her. Can’t. For reasons I can’t even comprehend.
