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She’d forgotten what it meant to be safe with someone. Not having a family growing up, and needing to protect herself, it almost felt wrong to find solace here with Zack.
Almost.
Zack might be a safe haven for her. A familiar place that was comfortable. But no matter how good it seemed, Naya couldn’t risk her heart.
There was too much at stake to put aside logic and let feelings take over. He needed to earn her trust again. And even then, he would only be a big brother to her. After all, he didn’t seem interested in anything else.
Naya pulled back from Zack’s embrace and created enough physical distance to tell her mind to do the same.
No matter how much her heart whispered otherwise.
“You don’t have to write this story if it puts you in harm’s way.” Zack’s husky tone made Naya inch away more so she wouldn’t send mixed signals—even if it was only for her sake.
“I don’t have a choice, Zack. I need to.”
“You don’t have to put that much pressure on yourself.” His features softened.
“I need to follow through on it.” Naya wrapped her arms together. “Otherwise, everything I’ve worked for slips out of reach, and Tucker wins.”
“Why are you writing it?” He lowered his voice. Like he wasn’t trying to argue, but rather he wanted to help her think through her decision. “Who are you writing it for? If it’s for that Tucker guy, you don’t need to prove anything to him.” Zack slipped his hands in his hoodie pocket and his jaw flexed.
It was interesting to see his demeanor change. Naya had half expected him to be jealous, but he hadn’t reacted that way. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what he was actually feeling.
Given the way she’d unraveled in front of him, she understood his concern. Which meant she needed to come clean about what drove her to write stories. Stories that exposed the truth.
“It’s not that.” Naya swallowed. “I write for Dominic.”
Zack scrunched his forehead. “Who?”
“My brother.” Ingram was the only other person she’d shared this story with. Time had a way of dimming circumstances until they were hazy, like a figment of her imagination that only showed up in dreams.
She cleared her throat. “He died when I was nine.”
Speaking the words aloud knocked the breath from her lungs. Reality tackled her faster and harder than the person who’d pushed her over the cliff.
“Naya. I—” Zack grimaced. “I knew your dad left and your mom was out of the picture, but I didn’t realize you’d lost your brother.”
“You wouldn’t have known, because I never told you.” Naya winced at how harsh those words sounded. Choosing to refrain from sharing the story about Dominic hadn’t had anything to do with Zack, but it had been a way to protect her young heart all those years ago.
She stared at the town, spread out below them. “Our drinking water in Haiti wasn’t the best. Sanitation processes were basically a joke. Dominic got cholera. His little body couldn’t fight it, and without access to meds, he didn’t make it.” Naya sucked in her cheeks to ward off the tears that threatened to overtake her once more. She whispered, “He was only seven.”
“I can’t imagine.” Zack stood there with his arms tucked by his side, like he wanted to do something, anything, but couldn’t.
Nothing anyone could do would bring her brother back.
Just like Zack’s parents. Even solving their case wouldn’t give him peace.
Zack stared at the expanse in front of them.
Naya sniffed. “After that, my dad brought me to the U.S. with the promise of a better life. But his work hours got later and later. One day, he never showed to pick me up from school. I sat there in the school office until CPS came, and I was eventually placed in a foster home.” Naya stared off into the distance. She’dhugged her dad that morning. One hand wrapped in his black curly hair. “He promised we’d go for ice cream that night. Except he never came back.” Naya shivered. The life she’d known with her family had disappeared, and she’d landed in foster care. Right here in Last Chance County.
Now here she was, standing outside, baring her heart years later. The raw honesty left her as exposed as the day she’d sat in the principal’s office.
Waiting to be found.
Like the truth of every story she wrote.
She’d been unwanted then. Her dad hadn’t seen his daughter as valuable.