Safe at Last (Slow Burn #3) (24 page)

Her head ached vilely, her pulse pounding at her temples. It was all too much to take in. She was clinging to the edge by her fingertips, having already gone all the way over the cliff and dangling haphazardly. One little slip and she’d be gone. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

She risked another look up at Zack and saw real concern and agitation in his eyes but at the same time his features were unyielding. He wasn’t budging and she knew him well enough to be certain that he wouldn’t be swayed once his mind was set on something.

Which meant they were about to have a serious come-to-Jesus moment and for only the second time since the horrible nightmare twelve years ago she was going to tell someone what had happened in exacting detail.

God help her but she wasn’t sure she would survive facing the man responsible for destroying her and recounting in detail the pain, sorrow and humiliation she had suffered at
his
instigation.

TWENTY-ONE

ZACK’S
heart pounded viciously against the wall of his chest. After his forceful declaration, he and Gracie had eaten the rest of the meal in silence. He could sense her fear. Hell, it was tangible, completely enveloping her. And it broke his heart.

Never,
never
would he have imagined that Gracie would be afraid of him. He was the very last person she needed to fear. He’d always been her protector, had always handled her with the utmost care and respect.

He had put her on a pedestal and had worshipped the ground she walked on. There was nothing in the world he wouldn’t do for her, and he’d made sure he told her that every single day. He never let a moment pass when she wasn’t completely confident in his absolute love and devotion. She’d been the most precious thing in the world to him.

She still was.

But Gracie wasn’t the only one who was afraid. He was fucking terrified. This was the single most important moment of his life. Everything was riding on this. Right here, right now. If Gracie refused to believe him . . . and, God, how could she have ever believed it in the first place? It was so baffling that he couldn’t wrap his head around it.

Had these so-called friends who’d raped her told her that he had
asked
them to? Who the hell asked someone to rape someone as a favor, for God’s sake? It sickened him. It was so abhorrent to him that nausea curled in his stomach at the very thought. And what sort of sick fuck did she think he was to have believed that shit?

He swiped his hand down over his face and stared down at the dishes he’d placed in the sink. Once they’d finished eating, Zack had broken the stony silence by telling Gracie that it was time for them to talk—really talk. And then he’d received a punch in the gut when panic had buzzed across her features.

After helping her into the living room, he’d returned to clear the table. Not that it was important at all, but Zack needed time to compose himself and bolster himself for the revelation of the demons that haunted Gracie’s past—her present. And to prepare himself for her assertion that he was the biggest demon of them all.

He’d racked his brain trying to figure out which of his hometown friends would have done something so despicable. And he kept drawing a blank. Gracie was such a sweetheart and people couldn’t help but love her on sight. He knew he certainly hadn’t escaped her infectious smile and laughter. He’d fallen and fallen hard the first time he laid eyes on her. He’d known without a doubt that she was it for him. And then he’d taken the necessary steps to ensure that she was his.

But again, who—and why, for God’s sake—would hurt Gracie? And blame him? It made no sense! Nothing made sense anymore. Not one thing in this entire fucked-up situation made a bit of goddamn sense.

He closed his eyes, braced his hands against the edge of the sink and breathed deeply for a few seconds in order to gather strength for the ordeal ahead. Sterling was staying put in his bedroom making business calls, at Zack’s behest. He’d absolutely planned that the moment he got Gracie established in a safe place, where they could have privacy, they would finally air out the past. He hadn’t been pleased that Sterling would be occupying the same quarters as him and Gracie, but if it gained Gracie’s cooperation, he’d get over it. But he’d made sure that Sterling was for the most part going to stay the hell out of the way.

Zack glanced over his shoulder into the living room, where Gracie sat like an ice sculpture on the couch and he knew he was merely delaying the inevitable when before he’d been frustrated as hell with the lack of information.

He slid his hand over his stomach and grimaced. The food he’d consumed was swirling in his gut like a goddamn Tilt-A-Whirl and his nerves were completely fried. So much rode on this conversation and whether or not she’d believe in his innocence. If she’d been convinced of his guilt for twelve years, what were the odds of her changing that belief anytime soon?

Man up and stop being a fucking pussy.

He sighed at the admonishment but paid heed nonetheless. Turning from the sink, he walked back to the living room where Gracie sat at the end of the couch leaned against the side, pillows surrounding her. Likely an intentional barrier or a protective wall.

He gave her the space she was demanding and he eased down on the same couch, but on the other end so they faced each other with an entire vacant spot between them. It went against every natural instinct for him not to be close enough to touch her. Hold her. Offer her comfort, something she would undoubtedly need when recounting such a traumatic event.

She wasn’t the only one who would need comfort, and he sincerely doubted he’d find any himself.

He locked gazes with her, observing the way she twisted her fingers in obvious agitation. His chest physically hurt for all she would soon reveal. He was still reeling from the bombshell Sterling had dropped on him. Grief had hovered incessantly over him, and he’d tortured himself endlessly, imagining her at the hands of three men who mercilessly violated her. Men that apparently he
knew
.

“Tell me what happened, Gracie,” he said quietly.

Even knowing the story already, he wanted—needed—to hear it directly from her. He wasn’t going to throw Sterling under the bus and hurt Gracie by revealing that someone she trusted had broken her confidence. She needed people she could trust. But goddamn it, he wanted to be one of them.

She was pale and strain was evident on her face. Her eyes were weary and pain filled, as though she were reliving hell. Guilt plagued him. He didn’t want her to have to recount the horror of what she’d endured, but it was the most important thing in the world for her to know he had nothing to do with it.

It was his only chance of ever making her love him again. And God help him, he wanted—needed—her love. If there had been any question of his feelings for her diminishing with time and distance, with him being older and very different from the idealistic college kid who thought he had it all, there wasn’t now. The moment he saw her again, even with her unexpected fear of him, he’d been overcome with the knowledge that there would never be another woman for him. He couldn’t lose her now. Not when he’d looked for her for so very long. He nearly hadn’t survived the first time he lost her. This time? It would destroy him.

He watched helplessly as she struggled to find the words. She looked utterly lost and so forlorn, and though he simmered with impatience, he didn’t rush her. But he could no longer tolerate the distance that separated them. He slid forward on the couch, steeling himself for her rejection but determined to show her he wasn’t a monster.

He reached for her hand and she visibly flinched and tried to pull free of his grasp. He didn’t let her tug it away, and gently, so as not to hurt her, he tightened his hold.

She shuddered, shame clouding her delicate features. “Don’t touch me,” she begged softly, her eyes awash with tears. “Please don’t touch me.”

Her aching plea tore at his heart. “Why, Gracie?”

She closed her eyes and then reopened them, her eyelashes sparkling with tears.

“Just . . . don’t.”

She rubbed her free hand up and down her arm as if trying to scrub away some invisible taint. As if being so close to him made her feel
unclean
.

“I make you feel dirty?” he asked hoarsely.

Even knowing the answer, he had to hear it from her. Somehow they had to navigate through a myriad of pain and betrayal and he
had
to convince her of his innocence. His entire life hinged on her somehow regaining her faith in him. He could wait for her to love him again. He’d wait forever if that was what it took. But he knew he didn’t have a chance in hell of getting her back if he couldn’t unravel this fucked-up mystery and convince her that he’d had no part in it.

“Not you . . . I mean not right now.
Them
. Oh God . . .”

She choked on the last part and looked very much like she’d be sick on the spot. She was shaking violently from head to toe as though she were freezing, and her lips were stiff and clumsy. Each word seemed agonizing for her; she was clearly exhausted even though they’d only just begun. And they still had a long way to go.

“Them who? Tell me what happened, Gracie. Did someone hurt you?”

He couldn’t control the fierceness of his question even though he already knew. He couldn’t even think about what had been done to her, without rage consuming him. Even now he had to flex his fingers to prevent curling them into tight fists, but he didn’t want to display any outward sign of his fury. He had no desire to make her more afraid of him than she already was. She expected pain and violence from him when in fact he’d die before ever doing or allowing harm to her.

Her face crumbled in her distress. She made no effort to hide her tears and a sob welled from her throat, a sound that sent despair quaking through his heart.

She turned toward him then, her eyes wild and flashing, anger and distress rolling off her in waves.

“How can you sit there and
ask
that?
You
hurt me,” she raged. “
You!
How dare you sit there and pretend you don’t know what happened? Does it satisfy you to see the results of your handiwork? Or was that not enough and you want to push the knife a little deeper?”

He captured her other hand as it flew to her face in an effort to wipe away the signs of grief—and rage. Gathering them, his hands shaking violently as she had been shaking, he looked her in the eye, but God, it was hard. It was devastating to see the raw agony reflected in her gaze. He’d give anything in the world to go back. He would have never left her alone. If only he could have the last time he saw her back again.
If only
. There were so many regrets. So many mistakes. His greatest one had been not bringing her to college with him or him simply remaining at home with her until she finished school.

“I would never hurt you, Gracie.
Never
. I loved you. I’ve loved you
forever
. Tell me what happened. We have to get this out in the open or things will never be resolved between us. And we will resolve them. I won’t accept any other alternative,” he said fiercely.

She stared at him with obvious disbelief, her eyes flashing wildly. “Do you honestly think I could ever just get over you having me
raped
? That it’s something that can be resolved between us?”

Her voice rose to a shrill almost-shriek. Color rose in her cheeks and her chest heaved with exertion.

The words cut him like a knife. It brought to mind horrific images of Gracie. Helpless. Being savaged. And her thinking the
entire time
that
he
was responsible. His eyes burned as though he’d poured acid in them but he was determined not to lose it. She needed him to be strong right now. He had to be strong for
both
of them.

Even having heard parts of the story already, hearing her say it, seeing the accusation and pain in her eyes, nearly brought him to his knees. Every drop of blood fled his face.

He was still trembling, his hands clumsy and inept as he lifted her hands so they were solidly between him and her. Then once more he stared her directly in the eyes, praying she’d see sincerity—and
truth
—in his.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Gracie. But you listen to me and listen very close. You were my entire
world
. The very
best
part of it. I would never,
ever
do anything to hurt you. I’d lay waste to anyone who ever did. I have no goddamn idea where you got such a fucked-up idea like that. Jesus. Did you have so little faith in me then?” he asked, unable to keep the thread of hurt from his own voice.

He tried. God, he tried so hard to keep the hurt and betrayal out of his voice. But he just couldn’t fathom why she’d ever believe for a minute that he was even capable of such an atrocity. She wasn’t the only one with a deep sense of betrayal in this whole fucked-up mess.

“I believed in you more than anyone I’ve
ever
believed in,” she said, her voice trembling and raspy after her impassioned outburst. “If I hadn’t had irrefutable proof I would have never even
considered
that you were involved.”

“Irrefutable proof?” he asked, incredulity evident in the echoed words. “What the hell kind of proof?”

He was so goddamn tired of dancing around the issue. His frustration, which had simmered for days, was near its boiling point and he felt ready to explode.

“Just tell me what happened. Who did this to you? And what kind of
proof
makes you believe that I would ever be a party to
any
woman being horribly violated? Much less a girl I loved. A girl I planned to marry. A girl who I planned to be the mother of my children. The girl I wanted forever with. I get that you hate me, Gracie. But for fuck’s sake, the least you can do is tell me what the hell happened. Who put their goddamn hands on you? Who hurt you?
Who raped you?
”