When the coffee was ready, I poured a cup, unsure what to do next. Stay here and wait? Pour a cup for him and take it to him? The question was answered when I heard the door open and both dogs burst in the room, tails wagging, their coats damp and cold under my hands when I stroked them. After greeting me, they both ran into the other room where I knew they would be warming up by the fire. I hesitated, then poured another cup of coffee as Zachary walked into the room. He paused briefly in the doorway, his eyes meeting mine as he stepped forward, his hand wrapping around my neck and taking me to him. I gasped as his icy fingers grazed my skin, the coldness of the outside permeating his clothes as he held me to him, his mouth covering mine, soft and full. With him, he brought the scent of the ocean. The salty, sharp smell wrapped around me. The chill of his body seeped into mine, as he kissed me with so much adoration, it made my heart sing. My head was spinning when he drew back, dropping a couple more light kisses on my mouth. I opened my eyes to his weary gaze, the fatigue etched on his skin like a map of fine lines.
“Zachary,” I uttered his name, concerned. “You look exhausted.” Cautiously, I laid my hand on his cheek, a sense of relief rippling through me when he relaxed into my touch.
Slowly his head lowered until it rested on my shoulder, the weight heavy. Sliding my hand around his neck, my fingers slipped into his damp hair, caressing the strands.
“I’m tired, Megan. So very tired,” he murmured, his voice rough and drained. I held him a little closer, knowing he didn’t only mean physically. He seemed so vulnerable; my chest tightened with the sound of his pain. I rested my cheek to his head, pressing a kiss to his hair, wanting to offer him comfort.
“What can I do?”
He lifted his head, eyes pleading. “Would you come back to bed with me? Let me hold you while I sleep?” He paused. “I need to sleep. I can’t…I can’t talk right now.”
“It’s okay, Zachary. Yes. Yes, I’ll come back to bed with you.”
His head fell back to my shoulder. “Thank you.”* * *He slept hard with his head buried in my neck, arms wrapped around me, warm and finally at peace. For the first time since I met him he sought my touch, groaning in satisfaction when I trailed my fingers along his arms and back. I slid my fingers into his hair, keeping my touch light as he relaxed. His body grew heavy as he gave into the weariness that plagued him.
Outside, the wind picked up as the rain started again, drumming heavily on the roof. His warm body, deep breathing, and the soothing beat of the rain overhead relaxed me, and shutting my eyes, I joined him in sleep.
Hours later, my eyes opened as Zachary stirred, his body moving, muscles shifting, his eyes finding mine. “Hi,” he whispered.
I traced a constant circle on his back with my fingers, gently caressing his skin. “Hi.”
“You’re still here.”
“I told you I would be.”
“Sometimes I find that hard to believe.”
“I’ve noticed.”
He swallowed nervously. “I’m not used to people being truthful with me, Megan. The world I lived in, people said what they thought I wanted to hear, even when they didn’t mean it.”
“It doesn’t sound like a very nice world.”
“It wasn’t a nice one, but it was the only one I knew…until now.”
“Until now?” I questioned.
Leaning up, he placed a soft kiss to my lips. “You, Megan. You make it better.”
“I want to,” I admitted, smiling, liking that I could change his life for the better.
“You do.”
He rested his head back on my chest with a quiet sigh; the tenderness flowed through me at his unconsciously needful gesture, making my eyes sting. His scarred cheek was pressed into my skin, the ridges feeling rough against me. I ran my hand through his hair, smiling as he relaxed deeper into my body, his weight feeling so right on me. He was rarely relaxed enough to let me feel him without restraint. I loved him most when he allowed himself to be vulnerable.
“It’s late.”
I glanced at the clock. “It’s just two in the afternoon. You needed to sleep.”
“You want me to talk.”
“I do, but only if you can, Zachary. I want to know you; all of you.”
He didn’t say anything, but I felt his tension start to creep back. He began to pull away, but I wrapped myself around him. “Nothing you tell me is going to change how I feel.”
“You can’t say that for sure.”
“I can. Your past is simply that—your past. I’ve already assumed, from the few things you’ve said, it isn’t pretty or very nice. I know you’re not proud of some things that happened, or some of the things you did, but it made you what and who you are today.”