Safe at Last (Slow Burn #3) (21 page)

A sob welled in her chest, in the deepest part of her soul, and she quickly stuffed it down, forcing the cold nothingness that she kept herself permanently enveloped in to come back. She couldn’t allow a single crack. No opportunity for past hurts and betrayals to haunt her.

It was far better to feel nothing at all.

“Gracie? Are you all right?”

Zack’s worried, anxious voice jerked her from her self-battle. She blinked to see that they were standing just inside the bathroom.

“Do you need help?” Zack asked gently.

Heat stained her cheeks. She was mortified. She shook her head even as she pushed him away.

“I’ll be fine,” she said firmly.

He cast her a doubtful look but didn’t argue, thank God. Nor did he insist on leaving the door open.

“I’ll be right outside. Holler if you need me,” he said softly.

She’d die before ever asking him for anything.

As she slowly and painfully completed her business, her mind raced with how to get rid of Zack. She would ask Wade for help. He was her friend—her only friend. But maybe she’d been a fool to trust him. The first person she’d trusted or remotely allowed close to her since . . . Zack.

If only she’d been awake when Wade left. She could have immediately left and been gone before Zack returned. She should have known better. Not only Zack, but people from his security company, not to mention hospital guards and the police were a constant presence.

She was being released in the morning and then Zack would take her to God knows where and she had no idea what her chances of escape would be. Just how long did he intend to keep her barricaded—prisoner—in whatever place he was taking her to?

Being forced to be in his presence—alone—for an undetermined length of time was the cruelest of punishments. And what had she done?

Tears burned her eyelids like acid. She rubbed furiously at them, trying to alleviate any sign that she’d been crying. Zack’s discerning eye didn’t miss much, and he’d pick up on it right away.

She wouldn’t cry. She refused to let him make her cry again. She’d spent weeks and months doing nothing but crying, mourning the loss of something truly magical. But she had been just a girl. Sixteen. She hadn’t known better. Now, at twenty-eight, she was beyond girlish infatuation. No longer did she dream of happily ever after. She’d learned the hard way that there was no such thing.

She closed the toilet seat cover and then sank down onto it, burying her face in her hands. Maybe if she stayed in here long enough Wade would return and she wouldn’t be alone with Zack.

If that made her a coward, she could certainly live with that. She couldn’t even look at him without it nearly destroying her. She’d truly thought she’d put her past behind her. Until Zack had appeared very unexpectedly in the gallery and again in the studio. In just a few seconds, everything she’d done to survive the last twelve years had unraveled.

Twelve years of numbing herself to heartbreaking pain and sorrow. And grief.

Because even though she hated Zack for what he did, she still grieved for that sixteen-year-old girl dreaming of forever. She’d mourned the loss of innocence and of believing there was good in the world.

Ironically her horrible childhood hadn’t defeated her, having no father, having an alcoholic mother who hadn’t even remembered Anna-Grace’s existence for the most part, much less that she was her daughter.

Anna-Grace should have been accustomed to people leaving her. Of being betrayed. But not even her mother running out on her and then Anna-Grace being shuttled to her mother’s brother, also an alcoholic, and who was verbally and physically abusive, had been able to knock her down.

And when her uncle had died, leaving her homeless, Zack had come and taken Anna-Grace away.

Zack had very much wanted to move Anna-Grace in with him, but he’d known and had lamented the fact that his father despised her. It seemed no one in the world had cared if Anna-Grace lived or died. Except . . . Zack.

He’d even wanted to move in to the tiny motel room he’d found for Anna-Grace so she wouldn’t be alone, but his father had hit the roof. Zack himself hadn’t cared, but his father had threatened to withhold his financial support, which would interfere with him going to the University of Tennessee.

Again, Zack hadn’t cared. He threatened not to go to college at all, which only served to infuriate his father even more. It was only when Anna-Grace had pleaded with him to stay at home, make peace with his father and go to school that Zack had reluctantly capitulated.

He’d hated that Anna-Grace had been alone, had lived alone and had no one to look out for her. He’d tried to find a way to move her to Knoxville with him so she’d be close to him at school. So he’d never even have to come home on weekends or breaks.

But finding a place they could afford had been impossible, and there was no way for her to get to school unless Zack drove her to and from it, and with football practice that was impossible.

Anna-Grace hadn’t minded the solitude of living at the motel with only the elderly caretakers for periodic company. For the most part, she’d done her job quietly and efficiently. The kindly couple who managed the motel and restaurant had even offered to drive Anna-Grace to school every day.

But the best times had been when Zack came home from school. They didn’t get out much. He helped her with cleaning the rooms so she’d finish early in the day and then they’d spend the afternoon and evening in her little room watching the tiny television, snuggled up together on the twin bed. Dreaming of the future. Making plans for when Anna-Grace completed high school and Zack was drafted to the pros.

He’d promised her the world, but she had only wanted one thing. Him. His love.

And in the end, none of it had been real.

Despite her best efforts, a tear slid hotly down her cheek. Instead of wiping it away, she drew up her knees, wrapped her arms around her legs and buried her face against her thighs as more tears fell.

She should hate him. But despite saying so, despite the fact that she should utterly despise him, she was still in love with the boy she once knew. She grieved the loss of a dream as if he had truly died. And in essence he
had
. Because the young man she’d loved as she would never love another would never have done something so horrific.

What had caused him to turn on her? Had he met someone at college?

What he’d done was insane! Most people simply broke up with their girlfriend and moved on without thought or remorse. His actions implied a deep and abiding . . . hatred. As if he’d wanted her to pay for and suffer for some unforgivable sin.

What could she possibly have done to make him despise her so much that he would go to such great lengths to retaliate?

And why did he now so violently deny having done anything wrong and pretend his innocence? Did he fear reprisal? Or did he merely seek to undermine her and make it appear that she was crazy and delusional?

How could he seem so . . .
sincere
. . . in his claim of having searched for her the entire twelve years that had passed? Dear God, could he possibly want . . . forgiveness? Did he seek atonement for his sins? Did he feel guilty for what he’d done?

The thought that he would think for a minute that she could possibly forgive such a betrayal made bile rise in her throat, burning as she swallowed it back down.

And yet, he seemed so . . . haunted. No one could fake the pain she’d seen in his eyes nor the shadows present in them. He acted as though
she
had hurt
him
. And he seemed so sincere.

She shook her head. He was a consummate actor. Hadn’t he already proved that? She couldn’t allow herself to be sucked into his twisted world. If she ever doubted what he truly was, all she had to do was go back to that terrifying day when she’d been attacked, violated and discarded like trash.

More tears fell as she squeezed her eyes shut against the painful memories. They’d laughed at her. Told her how pathetic she was. That someone like her would never be good enough for Zack.

And God help her, when she’d been blasted by their thoughts, when they’d consumed her as if playing out in real time, she’d learned the horrifying and devastating truth.

Zack had instigated it all.

A forceful knock on the door startled her so much she nearly fell off the toilet.

“Gracie? Gracie, are you all right? What’s going on in there? Do you need my help?”

She hastily scrubbed at her face, but before she could respond, the door burst open and Zack filled the doorway, his expression grim and worried. Then he evidently saw what she’d tried hard to conceal and his entire face softened.

He knelt on the floor of the small, enclosed space and took her hands.

“Hey, are you all right?” he asked gently. “Are you hurting? Do you need help getting back to bed?”

She closed her eyes again, shutting out his image. He’d aged well, although his eyes had changed. They looked older, haunted, as though he’d endured hell. As though he had grieved—was still grieving. But why?

Her head pounded, and she ached, but it had nothing to do with her injuries and bruises. Some hurts went beyond the physical. Some ran soul-deep and did far more damage than those inflicted by her attackers.

Those injuries and hurts would heal, would go away and be gone as if they’d never occurred. But the hurt Zack had inflicted would never go away, would never cease to hurt, and she’d never recover from them.

“Gracie, talk to me.”

She opened her eyes to see his narrowed eyes blazing with concern. God, there was nothing she could do. No way for her to avoid him.

“I-I’m okay,” she stammered out.

“You don’t look okay,” he muttered.

“Look, Zack, this is hard for me. Can you blame me? After what you did? How can you sit there and look at me and expect me to act as though nothing ever happened? God, are you some kind of sociopath?”

She choked the last of her statement out and then angrily brushed at new tears that slipped down her cheeks. Damn it. She hated being so vulnerable in front of him, of him seeing her so weak. Hated that old wounds were once again raw and bleeding, as though they’d never truly healed. And she supposed they hadn’t. They never would. She could lie to herself, be firmly in denial just so she could endure each day, but in the end, nothing had changed. She could never get back all that she had lost.

His lips thinned and his jaw ticked. Anger blazed in his eyes and it looked very much like he wanted to say something but he remained silent. Then he rose to his feet and simply reached over and carefully picked her up.

Ignoring her surprised protests, he carried her back into the hospital room and laid her on the bed. Then he arranged and plumped her pillow, briskly fixing her bedding as if the incident in the bathroom hadn’t occurred.

When he was done, he pushed her hair from her face and forehead, his fingers lingering against her skin. His expression grew sad and distant. It looked very much like tears welled but she had to be imagining that.

He trailed a fingertip down her cheekbone as though he couldn’t resist touching her in some way. She should shrink away. She should be repulsed. And yet she closed her eyes, trying to keep her own tears at bay. Hadn’t she cried enough? At what point would the past cease to make her cry?

His touch took her to another time, a sweeter, happier time when they were together and she was convinced they’d be together forever. Before she lost everything that mattered to her. Before her life was destroyed and she’d been left to pick up the pieces alone and shattered.

But when he leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead, it was simply too much. She turned away from him, the tears coming faster.

He let out a sound of pain, as though
he
were the one wounded. She wanted to laugh—or cry more—over the irony. He hadn’t suffered as she had.

“We’ll work this out, Gracie,” he said in a low, anguished voice. “Now that I’ve finally found you I’m not letting you go. If it takes the rest of my life I’m going to make you understand.”

Understand what? The question tugged relentlessly at her lips but she pressed them together to prevent the words from spilling out.

She didn’t want to understand why he’d done the unthinkable. She just wanted him to leave and never see him again.

Was that too much to ask?

NINETEEN

ANNA-GRACE
had dozed off after a sleepless night when she was awakened by noise in her room. It had been impossible for her to sleep with Zack propped in a chair in the corner. She could feel his gaze on her even when she wasn’t looking at him.

Conversing with Wade had been impossible, and so the room had remained awkwardly silent until the two men had finally drifted off to sleep. She had spent the entire night agonizing over her situation and wondering if there was a way out.

From beneath slitted eyelids she watched as Zack tiredly rubbed his face and walked out of the room. Her heartbeat accelerated and she hurriedly glanced around to find Wade, who was awake and using his laptop by her bed.

“Wade,” she called softly.

His head yanked up, and his eyes narrowed in concern. “You okay, Anna-Grace? Do you need anything?”

“I need your help,” she whispered.

His brow furrowed and he got up and walked to her bedside, sitting on the edge so that he faced her. He picked up one of her hands and held it in a comforting manner.

“You know I’ll do anything I can,” he replied.

She licked her lips, nervously glancing at the door to make sure Zack hadn’t returned and would overhear her conversation.

“I need to get out of here. I mean now, before I’m discharged. He is insisting I leave with him, that I
stay
with him.”

She couldn’t even say Zack’s name and choked when she referenced him.

Consternation wrinkled Wade’s features and he sighed as he gripped Anna-Grace’s hand tighter.

“You
should
go with him, Anna-Grace,” he said in a low voice, shocking her with his response. Her mouth fell open but before she could respond—how did she respond to
that
?—he continued. “You’re in danger. Until the animals who attacked you are caught, you shouldn’t be alone. Zack can protect you. It’s what he and his associates do. He has the resources necessary to ensure your safety.”