Beneath the Scars

His eyes were filled with fear and his head already shaking no.

“For me?” I pleaded, shifting closer. “How about we go into town and do our errands, then decide? Don’t say no right away. We can decide when we’re there.”

I felt the shudder run through him. I started to tell him to forget it, I’d go in myself and we’d do it another day. I could pick up his gift, bring it home with me and surprise him there. He’d still love the gesture. Then, to my amazement, he straightened his shoulders.

“Okay. I’ll come with you. We’ll decide when we’re there, but if I say no, it’s no. We’ll come home.”

The breath I was holding, huffed out in relief. Maybe today would be a good day.

“Okay.”* * *“Your friend was in again, not long ago, Megan. He asked if you’d be in today.”

I frowned at Mrs. Cooper in confusion. “I’m sorry—my friend?”

She nodded as she packed the last few groceries into the box. “He was here the other day, as well. Ah, what was his name again? Nice looking young man. Tall, blond hair. Jamie? Gary?”

An icy shiver, long and hard, ran down my spine. “Jared?”

“Yes! That’s it. He said he was visiting you and Zachary last week and didn’t want to go to the house to surprise you if you were coming into town. He thought he’d surprise you here, instead. I told him you had called to say you were coming in.”

My hands started to shake. Jared was in Cliff’s Edge.

How did he find me?

He had overheard more than I realized. If he was here, it was for only one reason.

He was here to destroy.

I swallowed, my throat dry and tight.

Zachary.

He was across the street, talking to Jonathon. I was supposed to meet him there when I was done, so I could surprise him with the gifts Ashley was holding for me. Then we were going to decide on lunch.

That wasn’t going to happen.

I somehow knew. Jared was going to approach him—say something to him.

But what? What was he going to do?

Panic built in my chest, expanding and pushing the air out of my lungs.

“I’ll be back,” I almost whimpered, running from the store, leaving everything behind me. I hurried across the road, cutting across the parking lot at the back of the gallery. Somewhere in my brain it registered there were more cars around than usual. I noticed the small crowd of people at the edge of the lot, but ignored them. My solitary focus was getting to Zachary.

I almost made it across the pavement when the back door of the gallery burst open. Zachary stormed out, his face dark, everything about him screaming rage. He froze when he saw me, the expression on his face akin to revulsion. His skin was ashen and pale, his eyes horrified, and tension screamed from his stance. I stumbled in the heat of his hate-filled glare as fear shot through me, twisting like a snake around my spine. Then, I saw someone else.

Jared.

He smirked at me as he stepped beside Zachary. “The lady of the hour,” he mocked. “Come to watch the show, Megan?”

I opened my mouth to speak, to plead, to do something, but no sound came out. Zachary kept staring; his hands clenched into fists so tight, his knuckles were white. A large wad of paper was crumbled in one rigid fist, and I watched as he threw it to the side, and if possible, his stare became darker. The crowd I had noticed earlier moved, and before I even understood what was happening, Zachary was surrounded. Flash bulbs went off, people were shouting, microphones were being shoved in his face. Horrified, I watched him go into protective mode, his head lowering, using one hand to shield his face as he used the other to push people away, and struggling to break free of the turmoil surrounding him. Without another thought, I lunged forward, pushing and shoving, screaming at them to leave him alone, trying to get to Zachary. A hand wrapped around my bicep, gripping me hard, tugging me back from the crowd and I spun, expecting to see Zachary. Instead Jared’s cruel, smug face towered over me. “What have you done?” I gasped, struggling to get away.

He yanked me to his chest, his voice close to my ear, his fingers digging into my skin, pinning me in place. “What you deserved,” he gloated, then raised his voice. “Gentlemen, our own little investigative reporter! The woman who located and brought you the infamous Adam Dennis!”

I was blinded by the flashes. Loud shouts and calls filled my ears. Jared kept my arms pinned at my sides and I watched gasping and helpless as Zachary broke free, sprinting to his SUV. He paused only for a brief second as he tore his door open, his eyes meeting mine.