The stranger at the door

Zayne

I hated rain. Always had. But tonight, as I pulled into Dustfield, I didn’t even notice the slick, wet streets or the faint drizzle settling on the windshield.

I parked outside the house, hands tight on the wheel. My chest was a little tighter than usual, and I hated the faint pulse of relief that rushed through me when I saw the warm lights inside.

I stepped out of the car, the air cold against my skin. My shoes clicked against the wet concrete as I approached the front door. My phone buzzed in my pocket and I fumbled for it just to see Silas’s message:

Silas: You left before the pictures. Can’t believe my best man ditched before the main show.

I typed back immediately.

Me: I hate rain. You already know that.

Silas: How the fuck was I supposed to know the forecast would change?

Me: Not my problem. Just fix me in there. You’ve got your wife—be happy with that.

I shoved the phone back into my pocket, Sienna’s voice drifted from inside before I even rang the bell.

“Zayne! About time!”

I exhaled softly, trying not to let her energy get under my skin.

The door swung open, and there she was.

Isla.

She looked…. lighter. Whatever problem she had from earlier wasn’t gone, not entirely, but the tension in her shoulders had loosened slightly. Her wet hair clung to her face, but she held herself with quiet dignity, her eyes pinned on my face.

Did she recognize me?

“You’re here,” Sienna said, bouncing on the balls of her feet like a child announcing something exciting. “Zayne, meet my best friend. Isla. Isla, this is the infamous older brother.”

I inclined my head slowly, observing her from the doorway, letting my gaze linger a second longer than necessary. I knew who she was. I’d known the second she stepped into Sienna’s stories years ago. The moments Sienna had tried to describe her, her stubbornness, her humor, that fiery way she refused to be sidelined—I knew. And I’d never expected to meet her like this again, suddenly, in a home far from the chaos of the wedding she’d fled.

“Yeah,” I said finally, my voice calm, measured, carrying the faintest trace of amusement. “I know.”

Sienna frowned at me. “Of course, you do. You always do.”

I smirked. A little. Not at her, at Isla. She stiffened ever so slightly under my gaze, though I saw the flash of curiosity, the quickening heartbeat that betrayed her nerves.

Perfect.

Sienna continued without noticing, chattering away about random things, her words flowing like water over rocks. I let her talk. My eyes stayed on Isla.

Looking at her properly now, she was prettier than I’d imagined. And Sienna hadn’t done her justice. The soft curve of her cheek, the way the light caught her damp hair, the faint redness from earlier tears—all of it drew my attention. And for the first time in years, I realized how easy it was to forget my own rules.

I folded my arms, leaning casually against the doorframe. Sienna noticed me watching and elbowed me lightly. “Don’t even think about it,” she said. Her voice was teasing, but there was an edge to it. “She’s mine first.”

I glanced at her, unimpressed. “I’m aware,” I said smoothly.

Sienna huffed and waved me inside. “Whatever. She’s better than you think. You’ll see.”

Isla’s gaze met mine again, and I felt that faint jolt again. Not recognition—she wouldn’t have recognized me—but the subtle awareness of someone studying her. I could read it: the slight hesitation, the quick inhale, the quick glance to Sienna, and back to me. She didn’t know me yet, but she sensed there was something there.

I gave her a slow, polite nod, letting my eyes linger just long enough to unsettle her before turning back to Sienna.

“Alright, I’m going upstairs,” I said, voice even, and casual. “You two keep each other entertained.”

Sienna rolled her eyes but winked at me. “Don’t be too mean, Zayne. She’s fragile.”

I smirked faintly, but I could see Isla stiffen at that word. Fragile. Not broken, not weak—fragile. That was different. That was human. And she was human.

I made my way up the staircase, deliberately slow, giving her time to collect herself. But she didn’t look away. She kept staring at me, and that in itself was interesting.

Once upstairs, Sienna followed me a few steps behind. “Honestly,” she muttered, “you’re annoying. Always have been. And she’s not what I’d call fragile.”

“Maybe she isn’t,” I said softly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “But she’s different from what I expected. And that counts for something.”

Sienna paused, caught off guard by my tone. “Uh-huh. Well, you’re lucky. I’m not impressed so easily.”

I chuckled quietly. “I wasn’t trying to impress you. I was observing.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Observing what exactly? Her, or the way she makes you shut up for more than five seconds?”

I leaned against the wall, hands in my pockets. “Maybe both.”

“Zayne,” she said, lowering her voice, “don’t mess with her. Isla doesn’t do well with… your type of games.”

“My type?” I echoed, amused.

She rolled her eyes. “The brooding, half-interested, half-vanishing act you call a personality. She’s kind. She’s the type that will overthink everything you say, and you’ll make her feel like she’s the problem.”

I tilted my head, meeting her gaze evenly. “You talk like I’m planning to date her or something.”

Sienna folded her arms. “Aren’t you?”

“No,” I said simply. “I just want to understand her.”

She blinked, skeptical. “You don’t ‘understand’ people, Zayne. You study them. Like puzzles you get bored of halfway through.”

A faint smirk tugged at my mouth. “Maybe she’s not the type you get bored of.”

That earned me a long, knowing look.

“Wow. You’re in deep denial already.”

“Relax,” I muttered. “I’m not planning a proposal. I’m just saying she’s… interesting.”

Sienna raised a brow. “Interesting,” she repeated, as if testing the word. “That’s how it starts. Just do me a favor—treat her well while she’s here. She’s not like the girls you’re used to.”

I pushed off the wall and walked past her toward the window. “Don’t worry. I’ve got no reason to hurt her.”

“You say that now,” Sienna murmured behind me, “but I’ve seen that look before.”

I glanced back, lips curving slightly. “Then you know I don’t fake it.”

She sighed, half frustrated, half resigned. “Yeah. That’s what scares me.”