by V. L. Holt
He was keeping his cool.
He needed this job. He needed to be able to save up that money. He couldn’t live with himself; he most certainly couldn’t live with or marry Lauren if he was a threat to her. Maybe if he could get this treatment, they might have a chance.
He grit his teeth. Zack knew she was going to fight him like a cheetah on this. How could he make her see what was right in front of her eyes? He could end up like her father?
A headache like no other seized his head right behind the eyes, and he almost blacked out from the pain. He held a large hand to the doorframe until the most recent customers made it inside. Then he practically stumbled to the bar.
“Matt,” he groaned. “Do you have any painkillers? I just got this headache…” he said. He put his elbows on the bar and held his head in his hands.
“Sure man, hang on!” Matt said. He rushed around and pulled a little first aid kit out from under a counter. He poured a glass of water and gave Zack the pills and drink.
“Hey, I can cover for you for a few minutes. The crowd’s not too big and you look like you need to get some air or something,” Matt said.
Zack actually agreed with him.
“Yeah, thanks. I’ll do that. I’ll get some air,” he said.
He stepped out into the September air. It was perfectly chilled, and it helped him right away. He was overthinking everything, he knew it.
Once his shift was over, he’d head back to Lauren’s. He’d gather up his couple items, and explain that he needed to get back to Dave’s and he’d call her tomorrow.
Then he could slowly just wean himself from her sunshine. She’d get so fed up with him; she’d break it off herself. Simple.
That’s what he told himself for the next seven hours of his shift, and by the time he crawled up the steps to her apartment, his headache was only at half-power. His plan would work. It would.
He was still telling himself that when he climbed onto her bed fully dressed and collapsed next to her. He just had to smell her one last time. That was all.
She smelled like apples. Apples. Two apples plus two apples gave you how many apples? The farmer had fifteen bushels of apples. He sold seven bushels. How many were left? See, math problems were great. If only there was an equation that could solve all his problems. He’d solve it right now. She stirred a little, and he wrapped his arm around her waist and buried his nose in her wild curls. He didn’t have any solutions. Only apples. He had all the apples. He wanted all the apples. He didn’t want to sell any apples. My apples, he thought to himself.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I woke with a stretch. Zack didn’t wake me up after all, and he was going to catch it, as soon as I found him. “Zack?” I called out. I didn’t hear him answer me back, so I got up and shuffled out of my room. He wasn’t in the bathroom, and he wasn’t in the kitchen or front room.
Confused, I stood with one hand on my jutted hip. “Zack, where did y’all go?” I asked nobody. I noticed his backpack was gone, and I got a real bad ache in my gut.
Oh no. Oh no he did not do that. I saw a loose paper lying on the table. I ran to it and snatched it up.
Good morning, Beautiful
Don’t be mad. I made up with my friend Dave, and I’m back at his place. This will be a little easier on us, right? You’re just too tempting of a morsel.
I’ll call you today, either before or after I work at the sports bar.
Stop thinking that this has anything to do with what you told me. It doesn’t.
Love,
Zack
I crunched it up. Of course it had to do with what I told him. Did he think I was a numbskull? Did he think I was born yesterday?
Oh I was in a fury, and I stormed to my closet and picked out the hottest outfit I owned. I stomped into the bathroom and put on my face, and I spent an hour putting together the biggest hair anyone had seen since 1988.
He was not doing this to me. I would drag his butt to the courthouse today, if he thought he was going to brush me off like yesterday’s paper.
I just had one thing to finalize, and I had to do that at the library. Then I was going to Lonely Nights and find Brenda and strong arm her into giving me Zack’s friend’s address. She had to have it. He didn’t have any other references I was aware of. Then I would march in to that boy’s room and take him by the ear and demand an explanation!
My Southern Baptist granddaddy left me a legacy of spitfire that would not be quenched until I got this situation under control.
I piled all kinds of ammunition into my big bag. Anything that I thought might help convince Zack that he belonged with me. My bag wasn’t so heavy at the moment, because the cops still had my S&W for investigative purposes. It was fairly cut and dried that it was a self-defense situation, but there was all the paperwork and reports and what not. I put my full can of hairspray in there. I put my novel. I stuffed my long strappy shoes in there, and a handful of some more cosmetics. I didn’t know what I was going to do with all of it, but I was desperate.
My first stop at the library was completely successful. I returned my novel. It was a shame, but I never got around to reading it.
Then I got on the train to Lonely Nights station.
I stalked in the doors and shouted a little too loudly at Matt.
“Where is she? Where’s Brenda?” I asked.
He pointed down the hall.
I ignored Andy leaning against a table and chatting with Tracy. They stared at me like I’d grown two heads.
I found Brenda in her office.
“I need Zack’s address, and I need it now,” I said.
Brenda sat back in her chair. She stared at me for a full minute while my breathing gradually slowed to normal.
“I just remembered why we decided your stage name should be LuLu,” she said coolly. I gave her a tiny smile. “You might be the only woman save Dolly Parton who looks good in mall hair,” she said, and scribbled some numbers on a notepad.
“Don’t hurt him. He’s the best bouncer I’ve hired in a while,” she said with a straight face. I smiled again.
I made it to Dave’s apartment building, and looked around the neighborhood. It wasn’t terribly far from Lazy Eye’s place. I sort of knew the area. I pinched my cheeks, just in case my blusher wasn’t doing the job, and braced myself in front of the door. Three, two, one. I knocked nice and bold.
I heard voices inside and the creak of the floor as someone came to the door and looked in the peephole.
It opened, and Zack stood there without a shirt on and wearing nice blue jeans, but no socks.
All my speeches faded away to nothing as I stared at his sculpted shoulders, chest dusted with dark hair, chiseled abs on one side and a scar so horrendous on the other side that I couldn’t believe he was standing in front of me. My jaw was about on the floor. I looked up into his face, and I saw pain flit across it like a butterfly in an oil field.
Tears sprang to my eyes. All my thoughts were disjointed. I tried to speak.
“I brought my hairspray,” was what came out.
He frowned but invited me in.
I stepped in as gracefully as the Queen of England. We Southerners placed a lot of importance on civility and manners.
“You have a lovely place,” I said, channeling my Mama since all my own thoughts and words were a jumbled mess of emotion.
Zack was so much dreamier without a shirt on. But that scar…that scar told a story that rivaled my own family history in gore and terror. Don’t mention buses. Don’t mention buddies. I remembered my mental notes. He never talked about his army buddies. They must have all died. Why else would he never mention them? My heart was breaking over and over and over again.
Maybe I wasn’t good for him. Maybe he knowing about my Daddy and Mama was somehow going to hurt him and hinder his progress in getting better. Maybe it was better this way. Tears sprang to my eyes, but I tried to will them back into my head.
“Didn’t you get my note?”
he asked me. His voice was a little shaky.
I cleared my throat. “Ah, right. Your note,” I said. I looked all over the apartment. There was no sign of this Dave person, but there were green game cases lying around and a tatty old couch, and pizza boxes on the floor. I sniffed a little. I knew about messy roommates.
“The thing is, Zackory,” I said in my haughtiest voice. “I think you weren’t being very honest with me. I think you were trying to pull the wool over my eyes. But my eyes are wide open. So I can see very clearly what is going on,” I said. I was starting to warm up, too. “You’re trying to make a clean break with me. For whatever reason, you’re too chickenshit afraid of me. Is it my beauty? My strong personality? My insurance? I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter. Because whatever is going on in that thick skull of yours can’t be right. I’ll tell you how I know that. Because of the way I feel right here!” I struck my chest with my cast, and the thunk threw me off guard. “Ow,” I said.
“We’ve got something special. I think the stars aligned to bring us together. What are the odds, Zack? That a man suffering with PTSD would stick up the only woman in the city that didn’t A) shoot him or B) report him to the police? We were meant to be together, you and me! A city boy and a small town girl. It’s like a song, or something! And dammit…you didn’t even give me a chance to tell you the wonderful news!” I said. I dug in my bag and found a tissue so I could carefully dab at the tears threatening to smear my eyeliner. I grabbed my compact too, and snuck a peek at my makeup, because I couldn’t help it.
“Zack Daniels. Remember how I told you I couldn’t get into any schools? I couldn’t finagle a single scholarship? Well I learned a thing or two during that long process. And I found your Dr. Gutierrez online, and I found a scholarship program for vets, and I faxed him the form all filled out except for the stuff I didn’t know. I talked to him yesterday while you were at work. You’re in, Zack! You’re in! He’s even going to fly you out!” I was almost shouting in my excitement, and my hands were gesturing, and my cast about bumped a picture off a wall, and I didn’t even care.
It was Zack’s turn to drop his jaw, and then tears sprang into his eyes and grabbed me in a tight hug. We squeezed each other, and he started sobbing into my neck.
“You did that for me?” he said, tears straining his voice. I felt the stubble from his cheeks graze across my soft cheek, and it thrilled me to no end.
“Of course I did that for you,” I said into his ear. “I don’t understand how it’s possible to happen so fast, but I love you, Zack Daniels. I love you so much and I want you to be happy,” I cried.
“Oh Lauren,” he said. “I was telling myself I had to leave you. That I couldn’t give you a happy ending. But you’re my only happy ending. It turns out I can’t deprive myself of that,” he said.
“Good. Because when you mugged me, you signed up for the whole bucket of chicken. I’m not letting you get away,” I told him.
He nuzzled my neck and began kissing my ear and my jaw and my cheek, carefully making his way to my mouth.
“I told myself you deserved a whole man. I really wanted to get out to Bethesda and become that whole man for you,” he said between kisses.
“But you’re already a whole man,” I reminded him. “You just need a little help putting all the pieces together,” I whispered. “You just needed to believe it could happen.”
“Ah Sugar. You’ve got me believing all sorts of things,” he said, using that endearment again that made my heart sing louder than a rooster at Daylight Savings Time.
“Let’s kiss some more before your roommate comes back,” I whispered into his mouth.
“Oh Dave? He doesn’t care. He’s right there in the easy chair,” Zack said.
I jumped back, startled.
Dave waved sheepishly.
“Sorry. You had a lot to say and I didn’t want to interrupt. My Mom taught me to never interrupt a woman when she was in a rant,” Dave said.
I decided I liked him already.
“Do you have a girlfriend Dave?” I asked.
“Uh no. Mine just dumped me,” he said, making a sad face. “She was a real hot city girl, too,” he said.
I snorted. “You don’t need a city girl, Dave. You need a small town girl,” I said matter of factly. And then I went back to kissing Zack like I meant it. He would need a lot of kisses the next several days before he left for the treatment center. My kisses had to tide him over until we could get married when he got back. I thought I better ask him, just to be sure.
“Did you want to get married still?” I asked him.
“Do armadillos make great speed bumps?” he asked.
That’s my boy, I thought to myself. Just my city boy.
Acknowledgments
My family was really patient with me for this one. I hammered it out in four weeks. The miracle is that we never actually ordered pizza this month.
Thanks to Becca Henrie for being my graphic designer on retainer. You made an awesome cover once again!
Thanks to Misty Provencher again, for being the voice of reason on many occasions.
Thanks to Victoria Clapton for helping me keep it real. She’s an original Southern Belle and an awesome writer in her own right. You should check out her suspenseful psychological thrillers Dark Light and Luminous Shadows.
Thanks to lovers of romance novels everywhere and writers of them too. Love really does make the world go ‘round.
Thanks to an awesome band that created awesome music that inspires millions of people every day. The astute reader and music aficionado will recognize elements of a popular song, and will hopefully go buy it off Amazon! Precautions were made to not infringe on copyrights in any way.
Other Books by V. L. Holt
97 The Warlochs’ Pact 345 pages of Young Adult Paranormal with a touch of romance! Reviewers keep giving it four and five stars! William is a descendant of a powerful Warrior race created by evil Warlochs. With 96 lives of 99, he has to be kind of careful how he spends his last lives. Then the girl he just met is in mortal danger. Will he risk his remaining lives to save her? Is she worth it?
98 The Witch’s Prophecy The Young Adult Paranormal adventure continues in this bridge between 97 and 99. The voice of 98 is one of the Christian mothers who were chosen to breed a Warrior babe. The origins of the Warlochs are laid out as well as the personal struggles and triumphs of Agnes, a First Mother.
Look for the third and final installment of the Rise of the Battle Bred trilogy, 99 The Warriors’ Legacy around mid-2015!
About the Author
V. L. Holt has six awesome kids and no pets. She’s madly in love with her geeky husband and feels proud when she is able to make him laugh. She has been a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints for over thirty years, and thinks romance novels don’t have to be explicit to convey the love between two people. She wishes everyone could have their happy endings, as well as happy beginnings and happy middles.
Table of Contents
All rights reserved. Copyright © 2014 By Victoria L. Holt
An ORIGINAL work of Victoria L. Holt,
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
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br /> Acknowledgments
Other Books by V. L. Holt97 The Warlochs’ Pact
About the Author