Beneath the Scars - Page 41

I stood, frozen, gaping at him, not knowing what to do. How did we get to this point so fast? I could see him, us, dissolving right in front of my eyes. His pain, his self-loathing was so evident and heartbreaking. I knew he was scared. Something in his past held him in overwhelming fear and such panic, he was lashing out. He was pushing me away because I wanted to help. Zachary didn’t know how to accept help.

I held out my hand, not caring if he saw how hard it was shaking. “Please.”

He stepped back from my touch. “Stop looking at me like that!” he roared. “Stop trying so fucking hard! Drop it, Megan!”

“What if I can’t?”

His face transformed, his posture grew rigid; the warmth I had seen the past few days, gone. Standing in front of me, again, was the cold, dismissive man I met on the beach.

“Then you know where the door is.”

The walls shook as he slammed out of the house with such force I even felt the shudder through the floorboards. My shaking legs gave out and I collapsed on the sofa. Dixie whined by my feet and I picked her up, holding her close, seeking the comfort of her warm body and the unconditional love she offered. I shivered, my body icy, as I struggled not to cry. Looking around the room, my eyes were drawn to Tempest. Its powerful imagery hit me again. I was at a loss to explain how a man who could stir and express such emotions on a canvas, could shut them off so totally in his life, and be so cold in the face of my own.

I buried my face in Dixie’s fur.

I didn’t know how to cope with that—to cope with him.

Or how I’d deal with any of it when he returned.* * *ZacharyI couldn’t get away from Megan quick enough. I broke through the tree line, not stopping until the dense forest swallowed me up, hiding me in its dark grip.

My legs gave out and I fell to my knees, gasping for air.

Her eyes.

The pain and horror of her eyes, when I told her I had been burned by someone—a deliberate act of cruelty I had, for the longest time, felt I deserved—was shocking. Of course, she assumed I’d been in an accident of some sort. Nowhere in that gentle soul of hers would she ever be able to imagine inflicting that sort of pain on another human being or someone doing that to me.

Watching her fold into herself at my statement, then the fresh pain I caused as I flung cruel words at her, was devastating. The want, need, for her to back off, before I dissolved in front of her—an utter emotional wreck—had torn me apart inside. It felt like long, tearing claws ripped at my stomach as I saw what I was doing to her—how my words were affecting her—but I couldn’t stop.

I had never wanted to speak those words out loud and allow myself to be comforted by her healing embrace, as much as I did in those moments. I wanted to feel her arms around me. I wanted her soft voice in my ear, telling me everything would be all right.

There was something holding me back, though. It was the knowledge that when she learned why I was burned—the type of man I had been years ago—her opinion of me would change.

It was her expressive eyes that haunted me at the moment.

No one ever looked at me the way she did. She hurt—for me. She felt pain because of what I had experienced, without even knowing why I had experienced it. From the moment we met, I was captivated by the emotions I saw in her eyes. Her gaze was soft, warm, calm. Always affectionate and accepting—never judging; even now, after I had yelled and cursed at her they remained judgment free despite the pain I caused.

How the hell was it possible someone like her even existed? I ran my hands through my hair, clutching and tugging the strands she had cut only hours prior, welcoming the pain as my scalp protested.

How the fuck had I let myself feel so much for her in such a short period of time? We barely knew each other, yet I felt closer to her than anyone who had ever been in my life—ever. Why my trust in her was so absolute I had no idea, but it was. She brought out feelings I didn’t even know existed. Tenderness raged in me when she was close. The need to care for another person was so new to me, but she brought it out in me with ease. I wanted her laughter and smiles. I wanted her close. I wanted her comfort and healing touch.

I wanted her.

Tags: Melanie Moreland Romance
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