Beneath the Scars (33 page)

Zachary still seemed a little withdrawn; the effects of the other night still lingering between us. I thought maybe a change of scenery would be a good thing for both of us.

“What’s that frown for?”

I deleted the message, not wanting to spoil the surprise. “Nothing.”

He glanced down at the phone as I set it on the table. “Problem?”

I resisted rolling my eyes at him. “No.”

His gaze lingered on the phone, then he returned his attention to the paper. He didn’t look convinced or happy. I stifled a sigh, resisting the urge to remind him of our trust discussion.

“It’s nothing, Zachary.”

He shrugged a little, but didn’t say anything. I was a lousy liar and I didn’t want to give the surprise away, so I changed the subject. “I’m going into town today. You want to come?”

He glanced out the window at the dull sunshine. “Not really. Can it wait until tomorrow?”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I really wanted to go and get his gifts. He had been muttering again yesterday about this color he wanted and talked about checking online to try and find it. I wanted to give it to him before he had the chance. I was looking forward to seeing his reaction to the brushes and watching him choose the set he wanted. I could already picture him holding the brushes, his long fingers wrapped around the carved wood as he tested them in imaginary strokes on a blank canvas. His eyes would light up when he felt the connection and glow with warmth as he smiled my way, banishing the lingering unease of the past couple days.

“No, I, ah, need a few things. I have to go in today.”

He took a sip of his coffee. “Like what?”

I searched my brain trying to think of something. “Um, cream…and some ah, personal stuff.”

“Personal stuff?”

“Girl stuff, Zachary.”

“Ah.”

“We’re almost out of popcorn and corn syrup.”

He snickered, his mood shifting a little. “Well, if you didn’t drown ice cream in it and eat popcorn every evening, maybe we wouldn’t have to run in to town so much. Do we have any ice cream left?”

“Only a little.”

“I’ll add it to the list. I’ll let Mrs. Cooper know.”

“Okay. You’ll come with me?”

“You go without me.”

“Oh.”

He studied me, his eyes curious and wary. “Is it so important I go with you?”

“I had thought—” My voice trailed off. It wasn’t worth pushing him. Ashley would let me bring the brushes home and return whichever ones he didn’t want, and my other plan could wait. “Never mind. I’ll go alone.”

“You thought what?”

“I wanted to go in today, and I wanted you to come with me. It’s quiet in town. I thought maybe we could have lunch at the café.”

“Pick it up, you mean?”

I shook my head, swallowing hard. I’d been thinking about this a lot. “No, I thought we could eat
in
the café.”

His entire body stiffened. I wrapped my hand around his. “It’s still slow—only the locals. You said you’d try.”

“What if…what if it’s busy?” His voice dropped. “What if they stare?”

“If it’s busy we’ll try another day. If they stare, then they’re rude. It’s their problem, not yours.” I shifted closer. “You’ve already done this, Zachary. More than you realize, you’ve accomplished so many firsts. You go to the store, the doctor, the gallery, and even the park. At one point, you told me you didn’t think you’d ever leave this house, but you did it all, and you’ve done it by yourself. I’ll be there with you today.” I squeezed his hand. “It’s only lunch.”

His eyes were filled with fear and his head already shaking no.

“For me?” I pleaded, shifting closer. “How about we go into town and do our errands, then decide? Don’t say no right away. We can decide when we’re there.”

I felt the shudder run through him. I started to tell him to forget it, I’d go in myself and we’d do it another day. I could pick up his gift, bring it home with me and surprise him there. He’d still love the gesture. Then, to my amazement, he straightened his shoulders.

“Okay. I’ll come with you. We’ll decide when we’re there, but if I say no, it’s no. We’ll come home.”

The breath I was holding, huffed out in relief. Maybe today would be a good day.

“Okay.”

“Your friend was in again, not long ago, Megan. He asked if you’d be in today.”

I frowned at Mrs. Cooper in confusion. “I’m sorry—my friend?”

She nodded as she packed the last few groceries into the box. “He was here the other day, as well. Ah, what was his name again? Nice looking young man. Tall, blond hair. Jamie? Gary?”

An icy shiver, long and hard, ran down my spine. “Jared?”

“Yes! That’s it. He said he was visiting you and Zachary last week and didn’t want to go to the house to surprise you if you were coming into town. He thought he’d surprise you here, instead. I told him you had called to say you were coming in.”

My hands started to shake. Jared was in Cliff’s Edge.

How did he find me?

He had overheard more than I realized. If he was here, it was for only one reason.

He was here to destroy.

I swallowed, my throat dry and tight.

Zachary.

He was across the street, talking to Jonathon. I was supposed to meet him there when I was done, so I could surprise him with the gifts Ashley was holding for me. Then we were going to decide on lunch.

That wasn’t going to happen.

I somehow knew. Jared was going to approach him—say something to him.

But what? What was he going to do?

Panic built in my chest, expanding and pushing the air out of my lungs.

“I’ll be back,” I almost whimpered, running from the store, leaving everything behind me. I hurried across the road, cutting across the parking lot at the back of the gallery. Somewhere in my brain it registered there were more cars around than usual. I noticed the small crowd of people at the edge of the lot, but ignored them. My solitary focus was getting to Zachary.

I almost made it across the pavement when the back door of the gallery burst open. Zachary stormed out, his face dark, everything about him screaming rage. He froze when he saw me, the expression on his face akin to revulsion. His skin was ashen and pale, his eyes horrified, and tension screamed from his stance. I stumbled in the heat of his hate-filled glare as fear shot through me, twisting like a snake around my spine. Then, I saw someone else.

Jared.

He smirked at me as he stepped beside Zachary. “The lady of the hour,” he mocked. “Come to watch the show, Megan?”

I opened my mouth to speak, to plead, to do something, but no sound came out. Zachary kept staring; his hands clenched into fists so tight, his knuckles were white. A large wad of paper was crumbled in one rigid fist, and I watched as he threw it to the side, and if possible, his stare became darker. The crowd I had noticed earlier moved, and before I even understood what was happening, Zachary was surrounded. Flash bulbs went off, people were shouting, microphones were being shoved in his face. Horrified, I watched him go into protective mode, his head lowering, using one hand to shield his face as he used the other to push people away, and struggling to break free of the turmoil surrounding him. Without another thought, I lunged forward, pushing and shoving, screaming at them to leave him alone, trying to get to Zachary. A hand wrapped around my bicep, gripping me hard, tugging me back from the crowd and I spun, expecting to see Zachary. Instead Jared’s cruel, smug face towered over me. “What have you done?” I gasped, struggling to get away.

He yanked me to his chest, his voice close to my ear, his fingers digging into my skin, pinning me in place. “What you deserved,” he gloated, then raised his voice. “Gentlemen, our own little investigative reporter! The woman who located and brought you the infamous Adam Dennis!”

I was blinded by the flashes. Loud shouts and calls filled my ears. Jared kept my arms pinned at my sides and I watched gasping and helpless as Zachary broke free, sprinting to his SUV. He paused only for a brief second as he tore his door open, his eyes meeting mine.

I knew what he saw. Jared holding me, surrounded by a crowd he thought I’d sent to find him. I shook my head, tears filling my eyes as I struggled to get free from Jared’s constricting grasp.

There was only indifference in his gaze: blank, unforgiving, cold. He looked at me as if I was a stranger.

No second chances
, his voice murmured in my head.

My head fell to my chest as I sobbed.

The squeal of his tires would echo in my head for days.

Hands tore Jared’s painful grip away from my arms. An arm wrapped around me, pulling me into the safety of the gallery. Stumbling blindly, I sank onto the floor, shaking and crying. Voices talked around me fast and panicked. I caught only snippets of words.

He said…

She did this…

She wouldn’t…

And one word that kept repeating.

Zachary.

I wept until there were no tears left to cry. When I opened my eyes, I realized I was in Jonathon’s office. The only other person in the room was Ashley, who was regarding me with anguish. “Tell me you didn’t do what he says you did. What he told Zachary you did.”

“I love Zachary,” I rasped, holding out my hands in supplication. “I didn’t do anything.” A wave of nausea ran through me and I clapped my hand over my mouth, my shoulders heaving. In sympathy, she pointed to a door and I rushed into the washroom, retching until there was nothing left. Washing my face and hands, I avoided looking in the mirror, knowing what I’d see—what Ashley saw when she looked at me.

Guilt.

Because of me, Jared came after Zachary. I might not have done anything, literally, but I caused it to happen.

She was waiting for me when I came out. “Sit down.”

“I have to go. I have to find—”

She shook her head. “Jonathon is dealing with the police and chaos out there. You can’t go anywhere right now. The gallery is closed.” She shuddered. “I hope Zachary is safe. He isn’t answering his phone.”

My stomach lurched again and I wrapped my arms around my torso to try and stop the shivers that kept running through me.

She drew in a deep breath. “I want the truth, Megan. Who was that man?”

My voice shook as I told her. I told her everything. About my book and what Jared did. How I met Zachary. I told her all of it. When I was finished, she was quiet, her fingers tapping out a fast rhythm on the arm of her wheelchair. “What did he say?” I asked, knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it.

She shook her head, disgust written all over her face. “I didn’t hear or see the start of it, but what I did witness was awful. There were people in the gallery keeping both of us busy and he cornered Zachary in the office. He told him you had set him up. You became curious about Karen’s reclusive neighbor, did some checking and thought you’d found a great story. You were using him to write a book on his life—a real exposé. He went on and on about how you contrived meeting him, your innocent act. He said the whole story about him stealing your book was only a cover to get you sympathy.” She met my eyes. “He took great pleasure in telling Zachary the two of you were lovers, but you had gotten greedy about not sharing the book with him, so he decided to speed things up.” Her voice dropped. “He also said you were getting tired of keeping up the act of being in love and letting Zachary touch you like he was”—she hesitated—“normal.”