Safe at Last (Slow Burn #3) (9 page)

He didn’t have that luxury now. Because now he knew she was out there. Close. Close enough that he could have run into her at the grocery store, or gas station. God, how long had she been in such proximity to him?

“We’ll find her, Zack,” Eliza vowed. “But you need to prepare yourself for the possibility that she could run. The showing could and will likely be canceled. She obviously feels threatened by you. And, well, you need to prepare yourself for the fact that she . . . left you. Willingly. Because from my position, that’s what it’s starting to look like.”

Her words slid insidiously beneath his skin, cutting sharply to the very heart of him. Where Gracie lived, always a part of him, never leaving even if that’s exactly what she’d intended.

Grief, a very different kind of grief, welled up in his soul, suffocating, like a swollen storm cloud heralding the rain.

Never once had he even given thought to the possibility that she’d left him for the simple reason that she no longer loved him. He’d tortured himself endlessly with all the possible reasons she’d vanished, as though she’d never existed at all. Maybe he had been the only person who’d ever cared about her. So why would she reject him and everything he’d ever promised her?

What earth-shattering event had caused two lives to be permanently altered, damaged, never to truly heal?

But then she’d hardly painted a picture of someone who’d endured hell on earth as he had for the last decade. For the first time, anger, something alien to him until now welled in his chest, traced acid to his stomach.

No, she’d been pursuing her dream all the while he had been chasing his.

Gracie.

His dream.

His beautiful, sweet Anna-Grace.

The memories of her that he’d held so firmly in his heart, fearing that they’d dull with the passage of time, eluded him for the first time in twelve long years.

No, he’d never, ever felt anger toward Gracie.

Until now.

It was the bitterest taste in his mouth, one he knew he’d taste at the mere mention of her name from now on. Because now he saw the future—Gracie’s future. And nowhere was Zack a part of it.

EIGHT

ZACK
stood outside the Sunshine Art Studio just a few blocks from Joie de Vivre, his fists curled tightly at his sides. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath. Each one seemed torturous through his constricted airway and chest. Had she been this close all this time?

The irony wasn’t lost on him. After he had spent a decade searching for Gracie, had she been in the same city? And for how long? Had she already lived here when he moved to Houston to take the job with DSS? After years of chasing his tail, how funny that he’d come across her in the line of his work.

As good as Eliza was, even she couldn’t make information materialize out of thin air. Information was scarce on the reclusive artist. Quite by luck Eliza had come across an obscure article in an art publication that had mentioned classes being held at the Sunshine Art Studio several blocks down on Westheimer. Three artists rotated through, teaching art to children who showed promise at a young age. One of the artists was the mysterious A.G.

And so here he was, a knot in his throat, his palms sweaty as he stared at the door. Minutes before, the studio had emptied. Smiling, laughing children had spilled from the doorway, all rushing to meet their waiting parents in the parking lot.

Now all was quiet. There were no other vehicles in the lot, which meant if Gracie was here she’d either walked to the gallery, taken public transit, or . . . someone had given her a ride. Boyfriend? Lover? Husband? Wade Sterling perhaps?

It set his teeth on edge to entertain the idea she belonged to another man and was forever out of his reach.

He huffed another breath and berated himself for being such a coward. All he had to do was walk through the goddamn door. Only a door separated him and . . . Gracie.

So why was he paralyzed with fear? Shouldn’t he be eager to confront her and find out what the hell had inspired her epic meltdown in the gallery when they’d come face-to-face for the first time since she’d disappeared from his life?

Or perhaps he was simply coming to terms with the possibility that if she was alive and doing well, working as an artist, it meant she’d
chosen
to leave him without a word. No breakup. No closure. While he’d been unable to move on, to get over it, she evidently hadn’t suffered the same.

He ran an agitated hand through his hair and then swore under his breath.

Get it together, dumbass. You’ve waited twelve fucking years for this. Just open the goddamn door.

He forced his legs to move, ignoring the tremble in his knees. The door loomed closer until finally his hand grasped the handle. All he had to do was . . . push.

He shoved instead, disgusted by his hesitancy.

Then he was inside. Instantly, he was assailed by . . . hominess. Everything he’d ever imagined of a home with Gracie in it. The colors were warm and soothing and yet light and airy. He sniffed the floral-scented air. Around him papers were strewn on tables or affixed to easels. Paint was splattered over the dropcloths and smudged on the small kid-sized desks.

Nostalgia floated through him as he remembered all the times he and Gracie had talked about children. Their children. Did she have children of her own now? He didn’t think he could bear to see a miniature little Gracie knowing he wasn’t the father. That Gracie had pursued their dream without him.

He nearly turned and walked right back out of the studio. He wasn’t sure he could bear to face the truth. That she simply hadn’t wanted a life with him. But he froze when a familiar voice sounded in the distance.

“Wade? Is that you? I’m washing up, but I’ll be out in a minute.” Zack went stock-still as laughter, beautiful feminine laughter, rose. It sent a chill, a shock, straight down his spine. And only further confirmed his suspicions about her association with Sterling. “The children were rather exuberant today so I’m afraid I’ll get paint all over your seats!”

Gracie.

His Gracie.

He’d know the sound of her voice—her laughter—anywhere, such a welcome change from the tear-stained, barely choked out words of terror from their “reunion.” He stood, frozen, waiting for her to come forward when what he wanted to do was tear down the door of whatever room she was in and demand answers to all the questions tumbling out of control in his mind.

He was tempted to just turn his back and walk away. Much like she’d done twelve years ago. But unlike her, he needed closure. He needed an end to the torture he’d put himself through over the last decade imagining her hurt, dead and a hundred other dismal possibilities. Ironically, none of his imaginings had been good. And yet it appeared she was doing just fine.

“Sorry I kept you waiting,” she said breathlessly.

And then she appeared and he drank in her appearance like a man starving.

She wore a paint-splattered smock that she was in the process of untying when she lifted her gaze and saw him.

After their first confrontation, he should have been prepared for her reaction, but a small part of him had hoped that it had simply been the shock of seeing him so unexpectedly. But he
wasn’t
prepared, and it hurt his heart to see how she looked at him even now.

She froze. Went so still he wasn’t even sure she was breathing. And just as before, fear—honest-to-God terror—entered her wide, shocked eyes.

She backpedaled hastily, throwing her hand out behind her to find the door she’d just appeared from. She stumbled, righting herself by planting her hand against the now-closed door, leaning heavily on it while scrambling for the handle as if desperate to put that door between them again. To lock herself away from him.

She was terrified of him.

What the ever-loving fuck was going on?

“Gracie,” he said hoarsely. “It’s me, Zack. For God’s sake, I’m not going to hurt you. Do you have any idea what it’s like for me to see you? Alive? Well?”

His initial shock was quickly replaced by anger as everything welled up. All the fear and grief he’d lived with for so long. And to be greeted like
this
? As if she hadn’t been a major part of his life. Like he hadn’t loved her for most of his life, and she wasn’t the only woman he’d
ever
loved.

“My God, I thought you were
dead,
or hurt or somewhere out there suffering, that you needed
me
,” he ground out. Jesus, he felt like a complete fool for thinking she’d ever needed him. What had changed? She’d been his world and he thought he’d been hers as well. He needed to know why. Didn’t he deserve that much, at least?

“You disappeared off the face of the earth. What was I supposed to think? Didn’t I at least deserve a goodbye, have a nice life?” He nearly choked on the last part. “Not even a ‘fuck off,’ or ‘see you later’? No, you just disappeared, leaving me to think the worst. For twelve fucking years I’ve thought the worst. For twelve fucking years I’ve gone to bed every goddamn night sick at heart because I thought I had failed you in some way. That I hadn’t been there when you needed me and that some sick fuck had hurt you, kidnapped you or murdered you. And all this time you’ve been happy as a lark, painting and moving on with your life while I’ve spent the last twelve years turning the earth over looking for you?”

She was pale as death and looked as though she was going to be sick. She was actively seeking escape routes, her gaze darting quickly but never meeting his, and God, he didn’t think he could bear to see the fear in those eyes again.

Why the fuck was she afraid of
him
?

“Get out,” she rasped, tears choking her voice. “God, just
get out
!”

Tears welled in her eyes and silently slid down her cheeks, and despite his rage and sense of helplessness, his insides twisted, because no matter that she obviously had dumped him and moved on, his first instinct was to comfort her because damn it, he couldn’t bear to see her cry. Couldn’t bear to see her hurting.

And the fact that he was evidently the cause of her distress?

“What the
fuck
is going on here?”

Zack whirled around in response to the male roar to see Wade Sterling standing just inside the studio, a murderous expression on his face. But as his gaze drifted to Gracie, his expression immediately became one of concern.

And what really pissed Zack off was that Wade immediately crossed the room positioning himself solidly between Gracie and Zack, and then, keeping his eyes on Zack the entire time, he firmly pushed her behind him. Just as he’d done at the gallery. A clear protective measure, as if Gracie needed protection from Zack. Of all people, Zack.

Sterling’s stance was aggressive as he stared Zack down, clearly poised for a fight. And Zack was spoiling for one. There was nothing more he’d love than to knock the bastard on his ass so he’d take his hands off Gracie. But he couldn’t afford to lose his shit a second time because God help him, he might not get a third. She might do just what Eliza had predicted and run. He couldn’t lose her again. Not after finding her after so very long. Once had been devastating. Twice? He wouldn’t survive. Not this time, under these circumstances.

“Why the fuck are you so afraid of me, Gracie?” Zack asked quietly. “You at least owe me that much.”

Gracie emitted a strangled sound and it only served to further piss Sterling off. She wouldn’t even get out from behind her “protector” long enough to look at Zack, much less offer any sort of explanation.

“I
owe
you?” she said with a sob. “God, just leave me alone. Haven’t you done enough? You think I owe you
anything
after what you did? You ruined my life! You betrayed me. God, I can’t even wrap my head around why you’d even bother to look for me unless that once wasn’t enough. Or maybe you just wanted to finish the job.”

She completely broke down, her composure melting. Sterling half-turned to put his arm around her in a gesture of comfort and when he looked back at Zack, there was absolute fury in his eyes.

“Look, I get it,” Zack bit out. “You’ve moved on. You have a boyfriend, lover or whatever. But I have to say you have a shitty way of breaking things off with someone you supposedly cared about.”

Sterling cut off any response Gracie might have made, though Zack doubted she would have responded because she was openly crying. It was a knife to Zack’s heart. In all the ways he imagined seeing her again, this was never the way he imagined it going down.

“Gracie and I aren’t romantically involved, not that it’s any of your goddamn business,” Sterling bit out. “I’m her
friend
. And as her friend, I look out and protect what is mine. You’ve got two seconds to get the fuck out of here and so help me God, if you come within a hundred yards of her ever again I’ll slap a restraining order on you so fast your head will spin. If you violate that restraining order, I’ll spend every dollar I own to ensure you never see the light of day again.”

“You and what fucking army?” Zack said in a deadly quiet voice. “If you’re her
friend,
then this has nothing to do with you. This is between me and Gracie and you need to butt the hell out. I’m not going to hurt her. Jesus Christ, I’d never hurt her. I loved her. I’ve loved her forever.” His voice cracked as he said the last, and he broke off to save himself the humiliation of breaking down in front of them both.

“You disgust me,” Sterling sneered. “It’s obvious she wants nothing to do with you, so take the hint and get the hell away from her and stay away.”

“I’d rather hear what Gracie wants from
Gracie
,” Zack said pointedly. “She owes me that much.”

For the first time, Gracie stepped to the side of Sterling, her face red and tear-stained. Zack’s heart clenched and his fingers curled into tight balls at his sides. He stared at her, really stared, absorbing every detail about her.

She’d always been beautiful but now she was even more so. Hauntingly so. She was thinner. She’d lost the glimmer of youth in her face and her eyes looked so much older than he remembered. As if she’d endured hell and back and had aged far beyond her years.