Page 5 of The Dark Stranger
And her curse.
Because Rebecca had never learned how not to carry other people’s weight.
She sat up slowly, rubbing sleep from her face.
That was how Izzy had come into her life.
Not like a storm.
Like a spark.
He’d walked into her shop loud, confident, smiling like he already knew he’d be liked. Blonde hair, tattoos crawling up his neck, energy that filled the room in seconds.
“Only the best artist in town touches my skin,” he’d said, dropping into the chair like he belonged there.
She’d rolled her eyes.
But she’d smiled.
He was easy. Funny. Intense in a way that felt exciting instead of exhausting at first. He watched her work like she was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.
Most people looked at the tattoo.
Izzy looked at her.
That was new.
She didn’t notice the red flags — or maybe she did and called them passion instead. The constant texts. The jealousy disguised as protectiveness. The way he wanted to know where she was, who she was with.
It felt like being chosen.
And Rebecca had always mistaken intensity for safety.
She’d opened up to him in pieces. About her family. About being the one who stayed. About how tired she was of always being strong.
He’d held her face once, thumb brushing her cheek, and said, “You don’t have to be tough with me.”
She’d believed him.
That was the mistake.
She moved through the house on autopilot, making coffee she didn’t really want.
Outside, the lilies were still by the door.
Inside, her phone buzzed again.
A message from an old “friend.”
You coming out tonight? Girls only. You need it.
Rebecca stared at the screen.
Girls only.
She almost laughed.
She knew how nights like that ended. Loud music. Too many drinks. People who called themselves friends but disappeared when life got real.
