Safe at Last (Slow Burn #3) (23 page)

When she’d insisted on riding with Wade to wherever it was they were going, both men had acted as though they hadn’t heard her. Or perhaps they simply ignored her. Wade had walked briskly away to collect his vehicle while Zack helped her into the SUV that he’d pulled to the entrance of the hospital so she wouldn’t have to walk a long distance.

It was thoughtful of him. She begrudgingly gave him that much. But then he’d been nothing but solicitous of her since reappearing in her life. It was a mystery to her, and trying to ponder the whys and wherefores just mentally exhausted her.

To prevent awkwardness—though she failed miserably on that count—she’d rested her head on the rest behind her and closed her eyes, pretending sleep. At least Zack hadn’t called her on the pretense though she highly doubted he bought that she was asleep. Perhaps he was content in getting his way after successfully strong-arming her into acquiescing to his demands. It was wise to pick one’s battles, and it certainly appeared as though Zack adhered to the same motto.

She’d watched him through a barely discernible slit in her eyelids, and he seemed grim and utterly focused the entire trip. His gaze darted like clockwork between all the mirrors as if he was truly expecting someone to be following or an attempt to run them off the road.

Admittedly, Zack appeared to be good at his job, but then again, if he and the company he worked with were such hot-shot security experts, why the hell were the “enemies” he spoke of able to get to her as soon as Zack made contact with her? So far she hadn’t been very impressed with their “skills.”

She didn’t understand the extreme paranoia or Zack and his partners being so worried that she would be targeted again or killed. It didn’t make any sense to her. If they’d intended to kill her, why not have done just that? They’d certainly had ample opportunity when they’d beaten the crap out of her. It seemed far more risky to beat her, then let her go, only to return to kill her another time, when the others would be on their guard. What purpose would that serve anyway? It was risky, not to mention inefficient. But perhaps protecting her was an ulterior motive and was Zack’s way of forcing a confrontation with her.

Zack had said she’d been used to send a message. To the people Zack worked with. So in essence it had been a crime of opportunity since everyone associated with the security company evidently had security up the ass. It hadn’t even been personal to her—thank God. All the same, she had Zack to thank since he’d made their association known by visiting her at the gallery
and
the studio. If he’d stayed away, she likely wouldn’t have spent the last two days in the hospital.

She barely stifled the urge to wrinkle her nose as Zack rolled to a stop. God, she hated how bitter and cynical she sounded. Life hadn’t taught her to be anything but that, though. She’d never known hatred before she’d been raped. She hadn’t hated her father for deserting her and her mother. She hadn’t hated her alcoholic, negligent mother. Nor had she hated her abusive uncle.

It had taken the ultimate betrayal by someone she
loved
—the only person she’d ever loved—to make her truly hate for the first time in her life.

Had it taken over all else? Was this who she was now? Wary. Withdrawn. Miserable. Afraid . . . She was so tired of living with hatred
and
fear. Maybe forgiveness wasn’t for the person who’d committed a sin against her. Perhaps forgiveness was really for
her,
enabling her to move on, free of the weight and oppression so many years of anger had caused.

It was an epiphany far too long in the making, in her view, but a much-needed one nonetheless. After living so long chained by her past, and in order to achieve peace, she had to provide it for herself. No one could do it for her.

“Gracie, we’re here,” Zack said, touching her lightly on the arm.

She’d been so lost in thought that it had been as if she had dozed off and was miles away. Her eyelids fluttered open and she blinked several times to gain her bearings. Wade pulled up beside where they were parked and got out, removing his expensive designer sunglasses.

She stared at him a long moment before sighing with unhappiness. It hit her then and there that she knew why she’d allowed Wade to become so close. She hadn’t been attracted to him whatsoever and so she’d deemed him safe, unable to possibly hurt her as she’d been hurt before.

Even after all Zack had done, it was becoming more obvious that there would never be another for her. It didn’t only boil down to trust issues. She was simply incapable of looking at a man and feeling desire. Happiness. Seeing her future in another man’s eyes. Only Zack had ever elicited that kind of response from her. Damn him for ruining her life—her dreams. And her only chance at happiness.

“Gracie? Are you all right?”

Zack’s softly spoken question shook her from her dour thoughts and she reached clumsily for the door handle, unlocking her door when she realized that Wade had tried to open it for her from the outside but had been unable to do so. She’d drifted off and hadn’t even noticed.

“I’m fine,” she mumbled.

Her lie was obvious. Zack knew it, but he let it go.

She shoved harder at the reluctant door and it opened. Wade extended his hand to gently help her from the vehicle. She took it nice and slow, having already discovered at the hospital, when she was on her feet just those few seconds of getting from the wheelchair into the SUV, that she was anything but steady.

Every bruise made itself known in a hurry and a low groan, part pain, part frustration at her inability to move well, blew past her lips before she could call it back. Zack appeared just behind Wade, his face a mask of concern.

Her brow furrowed as she truly looked at him. His concern was real, not faked. He was utterly genuine in his worry and it puzzled her to no end. He kept vowing that he . . . cared . . . and yet she’d never bought that “lie” until . . .
now
.

It was as though her eyes had only just been truly opened and she could see the truth. Or perhaps she’d been unwilling to see the truth before. And she had no idea what she was supposed to do with this particular revelation.

Unwilling to ponder the perplexities of that, she eased another step forward, directing her focus to Wade instead of analyzing Zack’s sincerity. No amount of genuineness
now
made up for past betrayals.

With Wade by her side, one arm curled firmly around her waist, she shuffled through the open garage door and into the door leading into the house. It took seemingly forever to make the short journey into the warmer interior and she sighed with pleasure when a heated draft of air blew over her face, dispelling the chill that had scuttled up her spine after she had gotten out of the vehicle.

“Do you feel well enough to eat, Gracie?” Zack asked. He was still wearing that worried frown. “You need to eat. You barely had anything the last two days.”

She wanted to separate herself from the discomfort of his company and the tug-of-war with her emotions that was becoming increasingly more prevalent when it came to him. How easy it would be to fall back into their old routine. Zack taking care of her. Zack looking out for her. Zack loving her. Her loving him.

Pain that had nothing to do with her injuries assaulted her. She hadn’t imagined he could affect her so strongly. Not after so long. But on the heels of pain came grief. Over what could have been.

“Anna-Grace?” Wade said sharply. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, briefly closing her eyes. “Nothing. I’m okay. Really.”

Wade’s lips thinned with disapproval but at least he didn’t call her on her blatant lie. Then, to her dismay, he excused himself to go shower and put his things away after asking Zack which room he should take.

She stood, frozen, unsure of what she should do now. They were standing in the kitchen and silence descended into awkwardness. Much like the ride from the hospital had been.

Then Zack tucked his hand underneath her elbow and as Wade had done he wrapped his other arm around her waist and began guiding her to the small table in the breakfast nook, where a bay window overlooked the meticulously landscaped backyard.

“Just sit here and take it easy. I’ll take a look at what was stocked and whip something up right quick.”

He cupped his hand over the crown of her hair and for a moment she could swear he was going to try to
kiss
her. But then he dropped his hand away after running his fingers down her long tresses to the ends and letting them fall away from his grasp. He curled his fingers inward and then flexed them outward as though warding off the urge to continue running his hands through her hair. Then he turned and walked back into the kitchen, leaving her sitting there, her lips tingling as if he
had
kissed her.

She hastily lifted her hand to her mouth, rubbing to rid herself of the sensation. God, she was losing her mind. How could she have even thought it for a minute? Worse, if he had tried to kiss her, she wouldn’t have done anything to stop him. It made her the worst sort of person and guilt and self-loathing nagged relentlessly at her. But so too did the longing for his kiss, which she put down as remembering the sweetness of their kisses before everything went to hell.

Zack was the only man to ever kiss her. He was the only man she’d ever loved. Would ever love, for that matter, even if that emotion was dead to her now. But she could still remember how glorious it felt to be young and in love, to have the entire world at her feet and to dream of beautiful things together.

He’d been her dream. And then he’d become her nightmare.

Several long minutes later, in which she’d spent staring down at the table in front of her as though she were in a daze, Zack returned bearing two plates. She hadn’t even registered him cooking, had no idea what he’d concocted.

It smelled divine, though, and her stomach immediately rumbled a sharp protest after being neglected for so long.

He put the plate in front of her and put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently before taking his own place across from her at the table. Her foolish body still reacted as though it had no knowledge of his betrayal. It acted as though it were starved for his touch having been bereft of it for so long. Goose bumps cascaded down her arm and a heated flush rushed through her chest and down into her belly. She was so disgusted that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to eat.

Tears burned like acid, welling up from nowhere. She was an emotional wreck, so conflicted and torn that she felt positively unhinged. Was she going crazy? Had she held on to her sanity for this long only to let it go now, when she needed it the most?

“Gracie.”

She refused to lift her head, embarrassed beyond words for him to see her tears. She should have known he could see them anyway.

“Look at me, damn it,” he said fiercely.

Closing her eyes, she slowly raised her chin and after drawing several steadying breaths, she opened them again only to see him through a cloudy sheen of moisture.

He looked furious . . . But he also looked as sick at heart as she felt. Something had to give. She wouldn’t survive such proximity without completely breaking down. If she thought for a minute that she wouldn’t face-plant by getting up on her own and fleeing, she’d be up and running in a heartbeat.

“We’ve got to talk.” He was positively seething. How could there be so much fury and sorrow both vying for control in his eyes? “This has gone on too goddamn long. Enough. I’ve tried to wait. I’ve tried to be patient. I’d hoped like hell that you’d talk to me but that’s obviously not going to happen. You look like you’re going to break apart and shatter into a million pieces any second and
I’m already there
. Torturing yourself—me—hell,
us
does no one any damn good, so I’m done with this. After you eat, you and I are going to have a long, honest conversation and I will
not
let it go until that happens.”

She stared at him in abject shock, absorbing his impassioned, angry outburst. He was furious, yes, but oddly,
not at her
. His words and tone said one thing, but his eyes said something entirely different. There was pain—anguish—glimmering in the depths. And . . . regret? Worry for her? Maybe she was imagining it all, but she’d always been especially intuitive with him. She’d assumed it was because she could read his mind, but she didn’t have that ability now, and yet she could easily pick up his emotions.

She knew what was going on in his head—not because she could read his thoughts, but because his eyes and expression broadcast them in startling clarity. She was numb with confusion because he seemed utterly sincere. If she shrugged off her anger and bitterness for just a brief moment, she was able to see that he genuinely cared for her. Maybe even loved?

A gasp nearly escaped her lips, but she snapped them shut to prevent her audible reaction. Her mind was buzzing with so many differing emotions, she was dizzy.

Confused
didn’t begin to describe her state. She dropped her gaze because it was uncomfortable to see the naked emotion written starkly on his features and mirrored in his eyes. Eyes are a mirror to the soul, or so the saying went. The eyes didn’t lie. And if all of that was true, then she had one giant contradiction on her hands.

Because if everything she was registering was true, then he
did
care about her. Deeply.

Her mind was in chaos. Complete turmoil as she quickly replayed every sequence of events since he’d barged back into her life. Every single word he’d spoken. Each expression. The look in his eyes. They all said the same thing, but could they be believed? Or was it all one very elaborate charade?

Her lips pursed in consternation. Zack would have to be one damn good actor to pull that off as consistently as it had played out, and Zack was no actor. He had always been refreshingly blunt, unable to hide his true thoughts or feelings. You never had to wonder where you stood with him. If ever in doubt, all you had to do was simply ask him. He certainly never shied away from giving his honest assessment of anything, even at the risk of hurting someone’s feelings.