My smile faded. “You bought me a gift?”
His lips thinned, and he started talking so fast, the words were running together. “I saw them. Ashley had them. She just got them in. They were pretty. I mean nice. Well, she said pretty. I thought maybe you could use them. Maybe if the words found you again, you’d want a place to put them. So I bought them. For you. Yeah. A gift.” He paused. “I’ve never bought anyone a gift—ever.” He looked at the bag again, pulling it back a little. “Should I have wrapped them? Ashley offered, but I said no. It wasn’t your birthday so I didn’t think I should. Was that wrong? Fuck. Maybe it is your birthday? I don’t even fucking know that.” His eyes widened in panic. “Is it your birthday, Megan?”
I gaped at him a little over his unusual rambling as I began to understand. He bought me a gift—something he’d never done, and now he was nervous about giving it to me—beyond nervous. It was the sweetest, most touching thing I’d ever seen. I blinked at the moisture in my eyes as I pried the bag from his hands. “No it’s not my birthday, Zachary. It’s in June.”
“Okay, then.” He pushed the bag at me. “I hope you like them.”
“I will.”
“You haven’t looked yet.”
“You bought them for me so I’ll love them, whatever they are.” I leaned closer, kissing his cheek. “Thank you.”
His smile was shy and his ears got redder. Reaching up, I ran my finger over the inflamed skin. “I’m not the only one with ear issues,” I teased. “I never saw this until I cut your hair.”
He swatted my hand away, but he was still smiling. “Open your gift,” he commanded.
I sat down and lifted the heavy items out of the bag, gasping in delight.
Journals.
Thick, embossed leather-bound journals, all encased in a heavy black box. Five in total, all different colors: forest green, rich, deep red, a warm, golden yellow, the richest blue and a vivid purple completed the set. The paper was heavy and rich under my fingers, lightly lined, with an intricate border on each page. A lovely, matching satin ribbon bookmark edged in pewter was attached to each of them. I stared, speechless, at the thoughtful, decadent gift. Zachary was trying to give me back the gift of writing. A place to put my words if they came back. He knew the computer wasn’t what I needed. These lovely journals were.
I lifted my eyes to his anxious gaze. My damaged, beautiful, scarred, worried man. A man, who felt he had nothing to offer another person, yet with one caring gesture, proved he had everything to give and more.
Reaching in his shirt pocket, he pulled out a package, his hand shaking with nerves. “Ashley said these pens were very good, and you’d like the way they wrote on that paper.” He nodded to the journals and cleared his throat. “If, ah, you don’t like them you can exchange them for something else.”
I shook my head, letting the tears fall. “They’re perfect.”
“Yeah?”
“They’re the most perfect gift I’ve ever received.”
Zachary shook his head, his fingers wiping away the tears. “Don’t cry, Megan.” He sighed. “I hate it when you cry. It makes me feel…strange.”
“Strange?”
“Your feelings make me feel odd. I’m not used to feeling anything for another person. For caring how they feel about something.”
I wrapped my hand around his. “It’s called love, Zachary. When you love someone you feel their pain and joy. You become part of it—of them.”
“I only want you happy.”
“I am.”
“But you’re crying.”
I sat the heavy books on the table and cupped his face. “Your gift touched me. I love it. I love you.”
He yanked me flush to him, his mouth hard on mine. Winding my hands into his hair I dragged him closer, my passion matching his. He pressed me back, my body falling onto the sofa with him on top, a mass of entwined limbs and pressing lips. I was on fire for him, arching into his warmth, wanting closer. Zachary’s hands slipped under my shirt, caressing my back, moving and stroking, making me moan with want for him. Everything faded away except his nearness. I needed to feel more of him, be closer, taste him more.
Until a voice startled us both.
“Whose truck is that in the driveway, Megan?” The voice turned horrified. “What the hell is going on?”
The dogs were running around barking, as Zachary flung himself away from me. I stared up in shock at Karen.
“What are you doing here?”
Glaring at me, she tossed her hair, crossing her arms over her chest in a gesture I knew meant she was pissed. “You were supposed to call and let me know you were okay. That was two days ago, Megan. Two days! I was so worried, I drove up here to check on you! I expected to find you sick, not locking lips”—she flicked her hand toward Zachary—“with him!”
I stood up, my stance echoing hers. “Be polite.”
“Oh, sorry.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Hello, Zachary. How nice to see you again.”
He grunted out a curse and I shot him a look of annoyance. He wasn’t helping the situation. I smoothed down my shirt, grateful the house was tidy, given Karen’s sudden appearance. “My cell died and I forgot to charge it. I’m sorry you were worried. I did leave you a voice mail a while ago, but I guess you were already on the way.”
“Not soon enough, it would seem.”
Zachary stepped forward, his hands fisted at his sides. “What does that mean?”
I laid a hand on his chest, stopping him. “I need to talk to Karen for a while. I think you were going to take the dogs home?” I suggested with a raise of my eyebrows.
For a moment, he stared at me as my eyes beseeched him to cooperate.
“Yeah,” he huffed. He glanced at Karen. “And make us dinner.”
Her eyebrows shot up even higher.
“I’ll walk you to your SUV.” I looked at Karen and pointed to the floor mouthing, “Stay here,” at her. Her face said it all—we’d be talking as soon as I was back in the house.
Zachary loaded up the dogs, shutting the door with far more force than necessary. “Come with me.”
I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing into his chest. “She drove for miles to see me and make sure I was all right. I have to stay and talk to her.”
“She’ll try and convince you not to come to me.”
“I won’t listen.”
“She doesn’t like me,” he mumbled, sounding like a petulant child. “She thinks I’m rude.”
I started to giggle. Tilting my head back, I grinned up at him. “You are—at least with her.”
“She is with me, too,” he pointed out, with a small smile tugging on his mouth.
“Well, the two of you need to get over it.”
“Get over it?”
“I love you both. You have to learn to coexist.”
I heard the back door open and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, as Zachary’s gaze shot daggers her way. I could only imagine the looks she was shooting back.
His face softened as he looked back at me. “Only for you.”
I pulled his head down and kissed him. “I’ll be over soon.”
His gaze flickered to her again. His voice was worried. “Promise?”
My hands tightened on his face. “Yes.”
He tucked his cell phone into my hand. “I’ll find yours and charge it. Call me if you need me and when you’re coming over. We’ll meet you on the beach.”
“Okay. “
He climbed into his SUV, still looking worried, and I tapped on the window, leaning in. “Thank you again for the journals. I love them.”
His face relaxed a little and he tugged me to his mouth, kissing me, hard and fast, with so much passion I was breathless.
“I love you,” he murmured against my lips.
With one last glare thrown at Karen, he drove away.
We shared a look before she turned and went inside.
I squared my shoulders, and followed her, preparin
g for another heavy conversation.
CHAPTER TWENTY
When I entered the house, Karen was busy making coffee, our usual beverage when we talked. I grabbed the mugs and cream, then sat down at the table and waited for her. She was quiet as she brought over the coffee; the only sound in the kitchen was the clinking of metal hitting the side of the mugs as we stirred in our cream and sugar.
Taking in a deep breath, I met her eyes over the rim of my mug, preparing myself for her ire. Instead, a deep sadness met my gaze as she spoke. “Were you even going to tell me, Megan?”
I set my mug down and reached for her hand. “Of course I was!”
“How?” she asked quietly. “How on earth did you meet Zachary and become—?” She paused. “I don’t even know what you are. Lovers?”
I sighed. “We’re together, Karen. I love him.”
“You love him?” She gaped at me. “I don’t understand. You’ve only been here a short time. How did you even meet him? Get close to him? I’ve been coming here for three years, and I’ve only seen him a few times.” She shook her head. “And the few unfortunate times we’ve been in each other’s company, hasn’t been pleasant.”
“He mentioned that to me.”
“You talked about that?”
“We talk about a lot of things.”
She took a drink of her coffee, her nails tapping the porcelain impatiently. “Chris likes him. He says he’s a smart man. Lonely. They play chess sometimes.”
“I know.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What else do you know, Megan?”
I rolled my eyes. “We’re still pretty new, Karen. So just like any other couple, we’re still discovering each other. I know about his past, he knows about mine.”
“He knows about Jared?”
I nodded, grimacing. I hated hearing his name. “I told him.”
“How did you meet?”
I filled our cups and stood up, restless. Walking around the room, my gaze automatically went to the beach. “Out there,” I pointed. “He was out with Elliott, who had made friends with Dixie the day before. I introduced myself.”
“I bet he was his usual charming self,” she stated dryly.
I shrugged. “It’s a defense mechanism.”
“It works.”
I turned and faced her, my hand tightening on the handle of my mug. “He uses it to keep people away. You’re as rude to him as he is to you. Stop judging him, Karen, or I’ll stop talking.”
My tone seemed to surprise her. She stared at me and held out her hand. “I’m sorry. He rubs me the wrong way for some reason, and frankly, today has been a bit of a shock to say the least.”
I sat back down, squeezing her hand. “All of this has been a shock to me.”
“Can you tell me?”
For the next hour, I talked. She listened, frowned on occasion, or muttered a profane name about Zachary under her breath, but she didn’t interrupt. I was honest and told her everything, until I got to his past. That was his story and I wasn’t comfortable sharing his history with her. I trusted her, but it still wasn’t my story to tell.
“Chris has a couple of Zachary’s paintings in his office. He says they remind him of this place and help him relax on bad days.”
“They would. He captures the feelings so vividly on canvas.”
“He isn’t very good at expressing feelings to people.”
“Not yet,” I agreed, feeling the sad tug at my heart. “He’s getting better at being verbal. I love his paintings—he’s very talented.”
She nodded. “I’ll give him that, he is. Not my style, but they are good.”
I chuckled. “Don’t knock yourself out with the praise.”
“Sorry.” She looked away, then bent closer. “Did he tell you what happened? How he got those scars?”
“Yes.”
“Was it an accident?”
I paused, shaking my head. “No.”
“But you won’t tell me.”
“I can’t.”
She nodded. “Maybe one day?”
“Maybe.”
“It’s a shame. He’d be a handsome man without them.”
“He’s a handsome man with them!” I slammed my hand on the table. “His scars don’t define him! His face isn’t the reason I fell in love with him, damn it!”
Her eyes widened. “I was only saying—”
“You were only saying what everyone else thinks, I know! Poor Zachary; too bad about his face. He isn’t poor Zachary! He’s just Zachary!” Then I burst into tears. Long, deep sobs that ripped from my chest. Tears I didn’t even know I was holding in, as words poured from my mouth.
“You don’t know,” I sobbed. “You don’t know what he’s been through. How much hurt and pain…all his life…so much…”
Karen’s arms wrapped around me, her voice soothing as she stroked my back. “I’m sorry Megan,” she crooned. “Let it out. Let it all out.”
I sobbed on her shoulder, incoherent words and thoughts escaping between the gasps and cries. I told her how much I loved him, how alone he was, that I knew how much he needed me and I, him. I cried for his pain and what he’d gone through. I cried because I was so afraid of what the future held for us.
When the tears finally stopped, I sat back, dropping my head into my hands. “I love him so much,” I muttered, my voice thick. “So much it scares me.”
Karen’s hands covered mine, removing them from my face. “I’ve never seen you like this, my dear friend.”
“I’ve never felt like this—ever.” I drew in a shaky breath. “I need you, Karen. I need you to be my friend and support me. I feel so lost.”
She stood up, bringing me with her. “I’m right here, Megan. Now go wash your face, and we’ll talk some more.”
I emerged from the bathroom, my face refreshed and feeling calmer. Karen was sitting on the sofa, a bottle of wine open and waiting. “Done with the coffee?” I teased.
“I thought we needed something stronger.” She smirked, handing me a glass.
I took a sip, enjoying the deep flavor of the Merlot.
“What’s next?” Karen asked quietly. “What are your plans?”
“I’ve been thinking about that, actually.”
“Jared came to the salon,” she blurted out.
I sat up so fast, my wine splashed over the edge of the glass. My hands started to shake. “What?”
“He wanted to know where you were. He went by your apartment and your landlord told him you hadn’t been there for a while. He told me you weren’t answering his emails and you changed your cell number.”
“You didn’t—?”
“Of course not! I told him to fuck off. Well, first I told him what a weasel he was, then I might’ve accidently tripped, spilling the hair color I was applying all over his expensive pants.” She shrugged. “But, you know, that’s the danger of coming into a salon wearing clothes like that.”
I started to laugh, imagining the look of horror etched on his arrogant face. How I ever thought he was attractive, I didn’t know. “I’m sorry he bothered you.”
“He’s getting desperate.”
“I know.”
“Stop tugging your ear. It’s not your fault.”
I dropped my hand. “I emailed Bill to set up a meeting.”
“To what end?”
“I can’t fight him, but I’m not taking his payoff.”
“His publishers won’t go ahead with this hanging over the book.”
“I’m aware.”
“He’ll be so angry.”
“I know,” I admitted. “I was hoping, maybe, you’d let me stay on here for a while?”
“Of course,” she agreed immediately. “You may have to share the place with Chris soon, but you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you want.” She gave me a mischievous smile. “Unless, of course, you move up to the big house.”
I blushed a little under her gaze. I was thinking Zachary might ask me to stay with him eventually.
“Are you coming back, then—for the meeting?”
“I was hoping to let Bill handle it.”
“You should be there, Megan. Face Jared, tell him what you think of him.” Leaning over, she clasped my hand. “Chris and I will give you the money to fight this mess. You know we will. Bill will help you to find the right lawyer.”
“I have nothing to fight with. He has everything. Even my file of changes I thought I wanted to make.” I shook my head. “It’s my word against his. There are parts I wrote so long ago, I don’t know if I’d remember them. He’d be able to quote it all if needed. He has it all, Karen. I handed it all to him like a blind fool.”
“You trusted him.”
“Big mistake.”
“A mistake you’ve paid for dearly.” Her shrewd eyes regarded me. “Is the money the only thing holding you back?”
“No. The thought of a trial and what he would say and do bothers me. What might come out about, ah, what’s happening in my life now. I can’t risk it.”
“You’re worried about Zachary?”
“His privacy is important. I can’t risk exposing him.”
“Have you told him he’s part of the reason you’re not going to fight?”
“No. Don’t try and change my mind, Karen. I’d pretty much decided this before Zachary came into the picture. Now I’m sure.” I hesitated. “But maybe you’re right. I should come back and face him, end it once and for all. Leave him to deal with his publishers. I won’t fight him, but I’m not going to make it easy on him either.
“I want to put this behind me and start fresh. I have a different life to lead now, I think.” I smiled as I looked at the journals on the table. I had already shown them to Karen. “Maybe I’ll try writing again.”
Karen smiled. “It is a thoughtful gift.”
I nodded, encouraging her small allowance toward Zachary. “It is. He is thoughtful—and sweet. He only has to warm up to you.”
She laughed. “I’m not sure we’ll ever warm up to each other.”
Zachary’s phone buzzed in my pocket and I read the screen, chuckling at the fact he was using my cellphone.
Is she leaving soon?
Smiling, I replied.
I don’t think so.
Beneath the Scars Page 17