He easily caught the tall, thin girl in dark jeans and a violet-blue tank top. Her arms circled his shoulders, and his went around her narrow waist.

Who in the holy hot water was that?

My insides felt weird, chilled to the bone, as I watched Zayne dip his head and say something to the girl that earned a muffled laugh from her. What had he said? Better yet, why was he still holding her like they were long-lost best friends who didn’t care that one of them was super sweaty?

“Hi there.”

It took me a second to realize Roth was talking to me. I glanced at the demon and then went back to staring at Zayne and the girl. “Hi.”

Roth sidled up to where I sat. “Layla was worried about Zayne and wanted—”

“—to see for myself that he was really okay,” Layla jumped in. “Roth would tell me that Zayne was okay even if he wasn’t, just so I wouldn’t get upset.”

“True,” Roth agreed, and there wasn’t an ounce of shame there.

“Which is one of the reasons we’re here,” Layla finished. Her voice was low and filled with so much relief, I had to look away from Zayne and the girl, who were still playing octopus. Layla was looking at me, her blue eyes nearly the same shade as Zayne’s, which was odd. “He’s really okay, right? He looks okay.”

Blinking as if I was coming out of a trance, I nodded. “He’s...he’s perfect.”

Layla’s head tilted slightly as a set of light brown brows snapped together.

I realized what I’d said. “I mean, he’s totally okay. In perfect health and all. Just fine.”

Roth chuckled as Layla nodded slowly.

Finally, after about twenty years, the happy reunion by the door broke apart. I knew that Zayne was smiling, even though I couldn’t see his face clearly.

I knew this because I could feel the smile through the warmth in my chest. Happiness. It felt like basking in sunshine, and I sure wasn’t feeling that at the moment.

Zayne was genuinely happy to see this girl, even more than he was to see Layla.

“That’s Stacey.” Layla filled me in. “She’s a friend of ours, and she’s known Zayne for—God, for years.”

Stacey.

I knew that name.

This was Stacey—the girl Roth had told me about the same night he’d dropped the Layla bomb. I didn’t know all about her, but I knew enough to know that she’d been there for Zayne after he’d lost his father and Layla, and he’d been there for her after she, too, had suffered a loss.

They’d been friends...but more. That was the impression I’d gotten from Roth, and even Zayne. Based on that greeting, they could still be more.