Fighting Love

by Melissa West

  Now all of Captain Jack’s back windows were full of people watching. Half the town would have gotten texts by now, likely with photos attached—check out the love triangle! What was he thinking, risking Carrie-Anne like this? Exposing her to town gossip that he would have to explain, her once again caught in the middle.

  He needed Sophie to say something, to deny Brooks’s claim, so he could fix this in his mind before he completely shut down.

  Turning slowly, he prepared to ask Sophie for the truth, to explain, but in the time it’d taken Zac to stop Brooks from going to her, she’d disappeared.

  He spun around in time to find Brooks rushing back toward the restaurant. Zac grabbed him and threw him back. “You. Explain. Now.”

  Brooks straightened his shirt and glared at Zac. “I don’t have to explain anything to you. Sophie’s my wife. That’s the only explanation you need to stay the hell away from her.”

  Zac focused back on the water, none of this working in his mind. “How come you never mentioned her? Or even that you were married?”

  He shrugged. “It never came up.”

  “You being married never came up.”

  “I’m a private person.”

  “A wife isn’t something you keep a secret. What’s really going on here? What aren’t you saying, and why is she so scared?”

  “How am I supposed to know? Probably because she was caught. Think about your wife, Zac. How did she look when you caught her in the act?” Then Brooks shook his head, a flash of hurt on his face. “I never thought you, of all people, would become the other man.”

  That cut deep, and Zac wanted to walk away so badly he had to force his legs to remain still. “I mentioned your name to her. She didn’t react. Not even a little bit. She would have said something, reacted in some way, if she knew someone named Brooks.”

  “That’s because she and most everyone else in my life call me by my real name.”

  Zac closed his eyes. “Mark.” He had called Brooks by the nickname since they’d played Little League together, a bunch of eight-year-olds who thought they were bigger than they were. Mark was a natural at third, so they started calling him Brooks after Brooks Robinson, and the name stuck.

  “So you . . .”

  “We’ve been married for three years.”

  The world was spinning now, and though Zac wanted to trust Sophie, believe in the person she’d been to him, he couldn’t argue with Brooks’s story. Sophie had hidden so much of herself. Was this the reason? That she’d left her husband behind?

  Zac felt sick to the core. Unable to handle any more with the town as audience, he walked away, out of Captain Jack’s and away from yet another heartbreak. Now twice in his life he’d been lied to, been the fool.

  Well, no more. He was done.

  * * *

  Sophie couldn’t stop shaking. On the dash to her car, the entire ride home. Every second she glanced in her rearview mirror, and at every stop she double-checked that her car was locked. He was here. He had found her.

  Now what would he do to her?

  The thought caused her hands to shake so violently that she struggled to grip the steering wheel. She needed to get out of here, pack a bag, and disappear.

  But then he would just track her down again, and she couldn’t hide forever. She would have to face him.

  So when she drove down her drive and found a mysterious Jeep Wrangler parked outside her house, she fought the urge to turn back, to run and run and run, and instead drew a long breath. She quickly sent a text to Glenda, telling her to come check on her if she didn’t hear from her in twenty minutes, and stepped out of her car.

  Mark was sitting on her front porch in her rocking chair, her cat in his lap, which meant he’d been in her house. A shudder, which she tried to ignore, worked through her. Had he broken into her house before? Had he watched her while she was sleeping?

  “The restraining order says you can’t be here.”

  He cocked a perfect blond head, steel gray eyes burrowing into her like they knew every one of her secrets, her fears. “My team said that wasn’t binding while we’re contesting. That I can go wherever I like.”

  Sophie wasn’t sure if he was lying. He spoke a lie as easily as the truth, one switched out for the other whenever he liked. “Fine. Then you won’t mind my calling the police.”

  “Tell Tom I said hello.”

  Her blood turned to ice. “I don’t want anything from you. Why can’t you leave me alone?”

  He placed her cat down on the front porch, then stood, the rocking chair whining as it rocked back. He took the two steps down to the front yard and started slowly for her. “But see, therein lies the problem. You think what you want matters here, and it doesn’t. I want something from you. And I get what I want. Always.”

  Sophie took a step back, and he matched it forward. “What do you want?”

  He tilted his chin up and fixed her with the stare that had filled her nightmares for months after she left.

  “I never told you this, but I knew your grandmother. Quite well. Gwendolyn hired me to mow her grass and trim her bushes when I was barely ten years old. She’d invite me inside after I was done and give me milk and cookies. My mother never made cookies. So I would mow Gwendolyn’s grass, then eat her cookies, and then I’d listen to her talk about her perfect granddaughter. With her long blond hair and blue eyes, beautiful and perfect in every way.”

  “You knew me.”

  “I listened to every story Gwendolyn ever told about you, each time gaining more information, more reasons why you needed to be mine. And then Gwendolyn slipped. It was an accident of course. She had no idea of my affections when she left out a birthday card from you to her. And finally, I had your address.”

  “But look at you, you could have had anyone. Why me?”

  “Because she loved you, and I loved her.”

  Sophie felt her body go numb. She searched her memories for any mention of Mark, but there was nothing. Nana never—

  Wait. The sweet blond boy. Nana had never mentioned him to Sophie when she was well, but she’d talked of him at the nursing home, talked about how his parents ignored him, how she worried there was abuse. The blond boy must have been Mark.

  He edged closer to her, and she took another step back, her eyes locked on his, which kept drifting down and back up her body.

  “Please, just tell me what you want.”

  “You.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Zac grabbed a beer from his fridge, grateful that his daughter wasn’t home to see him wallowing in his misery. He wanted to call Sophie, he wanted to ask her to explain everything, but he couldn’t bring himself to hear what she might say—that Brooks had told the truth. They were married, and Zac had helped her commit adultery.

  The thought wreaked havoc on Zac’s insides. He contemplated calling his mom to ask her to pick up Carrie from school so he could get out of town for a few hours and think. But he wasn’t the sort of man who ran from things, and besides, this was his home—his town—not hers. If someone needed to leave, it was her.

  He’d just decided to turn his sadness to anger when his doorbell rang. Immediately, he went still, praying that if he didn’t make a sound, the person—likely one of his brothers—would go away. But instead, the doorbell was followed by knocking, and then a loud female voice called, “Open up. Please.”

  With a long sigh, Zac pushed to standing and walked to the door, opening it only enough to see Glenda on the other side, her expression frantic. “Is Sophie here?”

  “Why would she be here? She’s probably with her husband.” He took a long pull of his beer.

  Glenda pushed open the door and stormed in. “God, I had no idea you were such an idiot.”

  “Thanks.”

  “He isn’t her husband. At least not legally.”

  “Wait, what did you say?” That had his attention.

  “They’re legally separated. She has a restraining order against him. She’s f
iled for divorce, but he refuses to sign. Contested the grounds.”

  “Restraining order?”

  “He’s dangerous, Zac.”

  “Shit.”

  “Wait, where are you going?”

  “Where I should have gone from the beginning—to Sophie’s.”

  * * *

  Sophie felt like her legs had turned to jelly, and her hands refused to stop shaking. But her brain was solid. Her mind focused on the man across from her, inching her way, his intentions perfectly clear.

  He had come to Crestler’s Key for her, and he had no intention of leaving without her.

  A surge of worry burst through Sophie’s gut, but for once she refused to succumb to it. In ten more minutes, Glenda would be here if Sophie didn’t call, so Sophie had ten minutes to convince a maniac that he should leave, now, and never bother her again. And if she couldn’t, then Glenda would come—with the police, Sophie hoped.

  But a lot could happen in ten minutes, and suddenly Sophie’s desire to flee overwhelmed her.

  The thing about a man like Mark, though—he wouldn’t give up unless he made the decision to end this, not her. To really be free of him, she needed to convince him that she was beneath him. That she couldn’t be rebuilt. That she, Sophie Marsh, was a waste of time and effort.

  Just the thought made her body quake like an injured animal hiding from a predator, a silent plea for mercy. But Sophie would never feel safe unless she were truly free from him.

  “But here’s the thing. You don’t want me. Not really.”

  “And what would you know about what I want?” He paused mid-step, and Sophie took the opportunity to edge back a few inches, no more, but every inch felt like an inch toward her freedom.

  “Plenty. I listened to you work deals. I watched your reactions when you took on a new client, purchased new real estate. I prepared dinners for your staff, attended countless parties. I know your standards. And I know with certainty that I will never reach them.”

  His gaze locked on hers, his brain churning, and she knew if she had any chance, it was now. With every bit of the strength of a woman who would no longer live in fear, she took a step toward him.

  “Honestly, it’s hard for me to admit it, to know that I’m never going to be enough. It’s why I had to leave. Not for me . . . but for you.”

  He lifted his chin. “You left for me.”

  “I wasn’t lying when I said our vows. That love, my feelings, they were—are—real for me. And if I’ve learned anything from watching you, it’s that you know when to put someone out of his or her misery. You fire them before they fire themselves. You save them from themselves. I had to do the same for you. Because me? I’ll never be on your level.”

  Another step.

  “You’re brilliant, top of your class. You created a multimillion dollar business in your free time while getting your MBA. Me? I’ve never accomplished anything in my life. And I’m trying now, I am. But even if I work for the rest of my life, I will never reach your potential.”

  Another step, this one so close that she could see the lines around his eyes as he squinted in the sun, watching her, listening to her.

  “And then there’s the physical differences. You . . .” She stared adoringly at him while her insides screamed for her to stop lying, to punch him like he deserved. Still, she pushed on.

  “You’re perfect. Your hair, your eyes, your body.” She let her eyes scan down him as though it were hard for her to look away. “You’re the example of what to strive for. And me? My body is every woman’s worst nightmare, and my face . . .” Her lip trembled, and she looked away. “Look, I know I’m not very pretty. I know that I was lucky to be with you, lucky that you took pity on a girl like me and gave me a chance. But I’ve watched the women in our circle stare at you for too long. I’ve listened as waitresses half our age threw themselves at you. And I’ve tried to ignore it, tried to put aside my jealousy for you, but one day it hit me—I can’t be what you need me to be. I will never be what you need me to be.”

  Sophie was to him now, her hand outstretched to cradle his cheek, the gesture so against her instincts that she had to force herself not to flinch.

  “I’m not asking you to let me leave. I’m asking you to save yourself. You deserve more.”

  Mark drew a long breath, his gaze still on hers, and then he nodded slowly. “You’re right.” He placed his hand over hers.

  Sophie started to exhale for the first time until his hand tightened and his eyes narrowed.

  “I am better than you. In every way. But the heart wants what it wants.” He twisted her arm behind her, securing her to him, tightening his hold on her arm until she screamed.

  “Did you scream while Zac was inside you? Did you call his name?” He wrenched her forearm until blinding pain sliced through her, her vision blurring as she tried to breathe, to fight against him, only to have him strengthen his hold.

  “You will pay for your betrayal, and when you’re done, you will make me forget that he ever had you. You will show me again and again and again that I’m the only man who gets this.” His free hand slipped down her body, and something inside her snapped.

  Because everything she said to Mark was correct. She wasn’t as intelligent as him. But she was a quick learner. She wasn’t as successful as him. But she was driven. She wasn’t as beautiful as him. But her heart was kind.

  And finally Sophie understood that these things weren’t weaknesses. They were strengths. They were reminders that she was unique and beautiful in her own way. And Zac saw that, too. He pulled her close and made her feel special. Because to him, she was special.

  To herself she was special, and she owed it to herself to fight.

  So when Sophie let her body go slack in Mark’s arms and he let up for a fraction of a second, he wasn’t prepared for her to stomp on his foot and then elbow him in the gut and take off running. Her arm throbbed, and her shoulder was likely dislocated, but she couldn’t deal with that now. Right now she had to run, she had to make it to her car, she had to—

  An arm wrapped around her waist, and then they were on the ground, her clawing in the dirt to get away as Mark gripped her hips and spun her around, his expression maniacal.

  “You’re rougher now. We’ll need to work that out of you.”

  “Work this out.” And then she spit in his face, only to have him rear back and slap her across the face so hard she saw stars, her skin smarting, her eye throbbing from the impact. It was the first time he’d ever hit her, but instead of crying from the pain, she let a smile tip her lips. Because now, he’d done the one thing his lawyers claimed he’d never done—he’d hit her.

  Before she could help herself, she started laughing, the sound bubbling up from deep inside her, refusing to be ignored. “Thank you.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I said thank you. You just guaranteed that our divorce will be finalized.”

  Realization crossed his face, followed immediately by bloodcurdling rage. He growled as he edged toward her, his teeth gritted together. She saw in his eyes that he’d crossed over to the other side. He would make her pay in ways she could only imagine. For the first time, Sophie thought she might not survive this day. Panic surged through her as she struggled against his hold, her shoulder burning in pain.

  “Mark, please . . .”

  “Say it again.”

  Her bottom lip trembled. “Please.”

  He cocked his head, and then a wicked smile split his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead, the sharp click of metal filled the air, followed by another voice, a voice so intense it almost sounded like a different person.

  “Step off. Now.”

  Tears burned Sophie’s eyes as she turned toward the voice. Zac stood several feet away, a nine millimeter raised, an expression on his face that said he was more than trained to use it.

  Mark stood slowly, his hands outstretched. “What are you doing, man? You know me.”

  “D
o I?” Zac asked, taking a step closer and then another. “Because I don’t think I do. But you do know me, and you know that if you take a step toward her, I will end you right here and now.”

  “Zac, this is all a misunderstanding. Let me—” He started to lower his hands.

  Sophie pushed herself to standing and backed away as Zac called out, “I don’t want to shoot you, but I will.”

  Mark’s hands went back up, and then several blue lights sped down Sophie’s driveway. Sophie closed her eyes, relief pouring over her as she slumped to the ground. She drew a much-needed breath.

  The sounds of police officer voices, Miranda rights being read, and then a familiar woodsy scent washing over her were the last things she remembered before everything went dark.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Zac stared down at the woman who’d taken over his world, an IV in her left arm, her right bandaged after being popped into place, and a fresh wave of guilt worked through him. What was he thinking? Why did he trust someone from his past who he rarely saw over Sophie? Why didn’t he go to her, ask her to explain?

  Because he was afraid, and he let that fear dictate his actions. And that single bad decision could have cost him the love of his life. The more he thought about it, the more he knew it was true—he loved her. Loved every single thing about her, and it was his job to protect her. He had promised her he would . . . and he failed her.

  He ran his hands through his hair and closed his eyes, threading his fingertips together. “I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  His eyes snapped open, and he jumped up. “You’re awake.”

  Sophie grimaced as she shifted in her hospital bed. “I’m starting to wish I wasn’t, though.”

  “Dislocated shoulder. They put it back in place but said it would be sore for a while. I can go get your nurse. Ask her to give you more drugs or something.” He started to walk away.

  Sophie reached out for him, then grimaced again. “Please don’t go.”

  The look of terror on her face made him wish he could trade places with her, his shoulder for hers, his pain for her relief. But this wasn’t about him, and he refused to let his guilt make it about him. Instead, he walked back over and sat on the side of her bed, then took her hand in his. “I’m not going anywhere.”