“I’m not,” I lie. “I’m observing.”
Ozzy huffs a laugh, then glances down at me, expression shifting into something quieter.
“You’ve met Arrow and Juno,” he says. “You’ve met Gage and River, technically. Knight and Lark too, but… that’s their own mess.”
My chest tightens again at the reminder that there’s a whole world outside this safehouse full of people who have each other. People with history. People who know how to belong.
I swallow. “And you?”
Ozzy’s brows lift. “Me?”
“Who’s your person?” I whisper. “Your best friend.”
Ozzy goes still for a second. Then his jaw softens, and something almost tender slips into his eyes. “Poe,” he says. The name feels like it matters the moment it leaves his mouth. “Poe Cameron,” Ozzy adds. “We grew up together.”
I blink. “You grew up with someone?”
Ozzy snorts softly. “Yeah. Believe it or not, I wasn’t born fully formed with a mohawk and a grudge.”
I laugh, and he smiles like he likes that sound coming from me. Then he looks toward the ceiling like he’s pulling a memory out of the dark. “Poe lived three houses down,” he says. “His mom worked nights. Mine worked whenever she felt like it. Which means… we raised ourselves, mostly.”
My throat tightens at the casual way he says it.
Ozzy continues, “We didn’t get along at first. He was quiet. Angry. Kept to himself. I was?—”
“A handful,” I supply.
Ozzy’s eyes flick to me, amused. “Yeah. A major handful.”
I grin.
His expression shifts again, softer. “There was this day… I was maybe twelve. I got jumped behind the gas station.”
My stomach drops. “What?”
Ozzy shrugs like it’s nothing, like boys getting jumped is just… childhood. “There were three of them,” he says. “Older. They didn’t like that I mouthed off to one of them earlier in the week.”
My chest tightens with anger.
Ozzy’s mouth curves faintly, like he can see it in my face. “I fought. Didn’t do great.”
I start to sit up. “Ozzy?—”
He tightens his arm around me, keeping me close. “I’m fine.”
“I hate them,” I say immediately.
Ozzy’s laugh is quiet. “Me too.” He keeps talking, voice low and steady. “I’m on the ground, blood in my mouth, trying to decide if I can crawl or if that’ll just make it worse.”
My throat aches.
“And then,” Ozzy says, eyes distant, “Poe shows up.”
I hold my breath.
Ozzy’s mouth softens. “He didn’t yell. Didn’t make a big deal. He just… walked right in like he owned the alley.”
My pulse thrums.