Beneath the Scars (31 page)

I pulled up behind Karen’s house, and after a few minutes of hesitation, carried my bags inside. I had most of my things here, although it seemed more of my possessions were up at Zachary’s daily. Still, I wasn’t sure how he’d feel about me arriving at his place with suitcases. Moving quickly, I put away the few groceries, even though I hoped most of them would end up at Zachary’s later.

Opening the glass door, I inhaled the fresh air and reveled in the sound of the waves crashing along the shore. My eyes immediately went to the house on the bluff. As usual, I admired the way it nestled on the edge of the forest and overlooked the vast expanse of water in front of it. It appeared deserted, but I knew chances were he’d be in his studio, given the bright light of the day. All the windows were treated with a special film that blocked out the harmful rays, while still allowing light in so he could work and be comfortable. I could picture him in there, surrounded by his canvases, holding his paint palette, lost to the vision in front of him. I loved watching him create, deep in concentration.

I ran down the steps, hurrying across the beach. It felt as if there was an invisible string pulling me to his house—to him. About halfway across, both dogs suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs, barking and running toward me. Falling on my knees, I hugged them both, picking up Dixie to snuggle, her little body quivering with happiness.

I sensed his presence, and looking up, I was met with the vision of Zachary standing at the top of the stairs, watching me. Wearing loose pants and one of his long-sleeved, white linen shirts, his dark hair blowing in the breeze, he looked so good to me. My heart rate picked up as he began moving, taking the stairs two at a time and heading my way, his feet pounding against the hard sand. I stood up, rushing to meet him, images of a romantic lovers’ reunion filling my head. He would swoop me in his arms and swing me around, laughing joyfully at my return—of this I was certain.

Until, that was, I tripped, falling head first into his chest and sending us both crashing to the beach, a mass of entwined arms and limbs. “Oops,” I muttered, feeling my cheeks darken.

“I thought only steps were your problem.”

“No, flat, stable surfaces also present difficulties at times,” I mumbled into his chest.

He chuckled, the sound deep in his throat. His long fingers found my chin, lifting my head. Our eyes met and what I saw in them, made me forget my embarrassment. Deep, intense emotion that was lit with blue and green gazed at me, filling me with warmth. Love filled his eyes as he smiled, one long finger running over my cheek. “You’re home.”

Never had a word felt so beautiful.

I nodded, unable to tear my eyes away from his.

“Early.”

“I missed you,” I rasped out, my throat thick with unspoken words and feelings.

He dragged me up his chest, his arms encircling me like a vice. Lifting his head, he peppered my face with small, light kisses over my warm skin. “Megan,” he murmured, his voice sounding incredulous that I was back with him.

Threading his hand into my hair, he brought my mouth to his, parting my lips and kissing me deeply. I moaned as his taste exploded, filling my senses. Mint, coffee, and Zachary—nothing could be better. His chest rumbled beneath me as he held me close. His lips were soft and pliant, and his hand slipped under my shirt to stroke the skin of my back, causing shudders to run through me. The dull ache that had been present in my chest the past couple days disappeared now that I was in his arms. My entire body came alive against his as he welcomed me back, his mouth commanding mine. He teased and caressed, leaving me panting and breathless when he drew back, tucking me under his chin. A long sigh of pleasure blew across my head as he nuzzled my hair.

“Thank you.”

I knew he was thanking me for more than a kiss on the beach. He was thanking me for keeping my word by coming back to him.

“Always,” I whispered against his throat.

“I love you.”

Now
, I was home.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“Are you planning on eating that monstrosity, or only drowning it?” Zachary’s amused voice interrupted my thoughts.

With a grin, I lifted the bottle of corn syrup, snapping the lid shut and putting it on the table. I’d put on quite a lot. “I’ll share,” I offered.

He shook his head. “Syrup is for pancakes, Megan. Not ice cream.”

“No, maple syrup is for pancakes. Corn syrup is perfect for ice cream. It makes the yumminess-factor even better.”

“Yumminess-factor?” he repeated, curiously. “Did they teach you that phrase in writing school?”

I nodded, answering around a mouthful of the sweet treat. “It’s a good phrase.”

He chuckled and shook his head as I held the spoon out to tempt him. “No, I think I’ll pass.”

“Please?”

Rolling his eyes, he leaned forward, opening his mouth. I slipped the heaping spoonful inside, his full lips closing around the spoon slowly. I sat back and waited for his approval. He turned the sweet concoction around in his mouth and swallowed. “God, that is wretched.” He shuddered. “It’s like eating pure sugar.”

I grinned, eating another large mouthful. “Nope. Delicious.”

He sipped his black coffee. “Whatever. When you go into diabetic shock, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Okay, peppermint boy.”

“That’s different.”

“It’s still sugar.”

“Sharp sugar.”

I arched an eyebrow at him. “Sharp sugar?”

“It’s a good phrase. I made it up all by myself.”

I started to laugh, Zachary’s mouth quirking as he gave in and laughed with me. He placed his hand on my knee and squeezed it affectionately, then picked up his book again, still chuckling.

I loved it when he laughed. It was still something rare, but when it happened, he laughed with his whole body, the sound rich and low. His shoulders shook, his eyes crinkled, and his mouth stretched into the widest smile. His entire appearance changed—the constant lines on his forehead dissolving, the serious expression he always wore morphing into one of playfulness. It made my heart soar knowing, for even the briefest moment, I did that for him.

God, I loved him.

Since coming back from Boston, we’d barely been separated. Even when he was in his studio I was with him. He had piled up some pillows and blankets, making me a little nest in the corner, where I happily curled up and read or napped while he worked. On occasion, I’d hear the click of the camera shutter and open one eye to see him snapping away. He’d grin, ignore my glare and continue shooting until he was happy. Daily walks with the dogs, quiet nights by the fireplace, waking up wrapped around him every morning—the past week had been all about us, and I enjoyed every moment of it with him.

I finished my ice cream and set down the bowl. Although I didn’t want to admit it, it was rather sweet, given how much syrup I had poured on. Grinning, I leaned over and took the mug from Zachary’s hand and sipped his coffee, shuddering a little at the bitter taste. He liked it strong and black and drank far too much of it. It did help clear away the sweet taste, though, and I giggled a little at the look he gave me for stealing his mug.

He placed his book on the table. “I forgot to look and see if that paint was still back ordered.” He looked around. “Where did I put my laptop?”

“I think it’s upstairs.” My smaller laptop was on the table, so I grabbed it and passed it over to him. “Use mine.” I’d been using it earlier when I contacted Bill and told him my decision to accept Jared’s offer. As much as I hated to do it, I’d take the money and move on with my life. What I had in Cliff’s Edge with Zachary was more important than fighting a battle I knew I was destined to lose. It had been a hard decision to make, but now I had made it, I was at peace with it. I hadn’t told Zachary yet; I was waiting for the right moment to bring up the subject.

He smirked at me as he took my laptop. “Are you going to give me back my coffee?”

“No.”

He opened my laptop, shaking his head, muttering about thieving women. His long fingers flew over the keys, pausing as he studied the screen with a frown. “Still back ordered.”

“Can you get it anywhere else?”

“No, it’s a rather exclusive shade. I need to ask Ashley to research it again and see if she can find another source.”

Another few clicks of the keyboard and he started to shut the lid. He paused, his face freezing, a frowning glance at me as he started clicking the mouse again. He was silent, his body becoming tense as his shoulders squared and his frown deepened. I stared at him, wondering why he looked so angry. He was glaring at the screen. I sat up, realization of what he was looking at flooding my head. A small tremor shot through my spine, working its way from the pit of my stomach to my throat, tightening the muscles as it worked upward.

“Zachary—”

He spun the laptop my way. “Why do you have a file of me, Megan? Pictures?” He clicked again. “A fucking book on my past?”

I swallowed, the words dying in my throat at the fury on his face.

“Why?” he demanded again. “Why do you have this shit on here?” His eyes narrowed, his face becoming the cold mask I’d seen the first time I met him. “Are you researching me for something?”

“No!” I gasped out. “It’s not like that at all, I promise!”

“Then tell me what it
is
like.”

“I was drunk with Karen and missing you,” I offered, knowing how lame those words sounded.

“And?”

“I googled you, okay?”

He pushed the laptop off his knee, standing up. He towered over me, his anger evident in the set of his shoulders. “Why?”

“I was…curious.”

“Why wouldn’t you ask me? Why look on the internet or hide the fact you were curious?” His eyes narrowed, filled with suspicion. “What else are you hiding?”

I became angry, as well. How could he think I was lying to him? I wasn’t anything like the people from his past. “I’m not hiding anything, Zachary.” I waved my hand dismissively at the computer. “If I was, would I leave it in a file with your name on it for you to find, if I was hiding something?”

“You never expected me to look on your computer.”

“I gave you my computer! I forgot it was there!” I stood up in my fury. “I was drunk, thinking of you and my curiosity got the better of me! Yes, I looked at some pictures of you when you were younger, before you were scarred. Yes, I downloaded a stupid book about you. I never read it!” I flung out my arms in supplication. “Haven’t you ever done something in a moment of weakness?”

His face softened—only by a small degree—but it was enough. I stepped closer to him, lowering my voice. “I was missing you. I meant to delete the files, but I forgot.”

He stared at me, his gaze still filled with distrust. I tamped down the hurt I felt over how easily he could doubt me, remembering how fragile his trust still was in people: in me—in us.

“I was being silly. I’ll erase it.”

His voice was tight. “If you want to know something, ask me.”

“I will. I never did it to hurt you.”

“I don’t like to look at those pictures or remember the person I was back then.” He drew in a sharp breath. “I didn’t like that person. I might have been good-looking, but inside I was rotting.”

“I know.”

I edged closer, glad when he didn’t back away. “Your eyes were dead in those pictures. You looked so removed in them.” I lifted my hand up, the motion slow so he knew what I was doing, and laid it on his cheek. “Your eyes are alive now. They speak to me.”

“You brought them to life. You brought me to life, Megan. I can’t”—he swallowed—“I can’t stand the thought of you being anything but what I think you are: sweet, honest, and real.” He shut his eyes as a shudder racked his entire frame. Pain and worry clouded his vision when he opened his lids again. “It would end me if you were lying. Forever.”

“I’m not.” I stroked his damaged skin gently. “I’m not, Zachary. I love you.”

Our gaze locked, and I refused to break the connection. I wanted him to see the honesty. See the love I had for him, and him alone.

His shoulders loosened, his expression softening.