Beneath the Scars

“But so lonely,” I added. I felt his loneliness. I felt the fear he hid beneath his anger.

“Yes. Our, ah, scars were something we had in common. He felt safe with me, knowing I wasn’t judging him and was able to open up a little. We became friends, or at least what I would call friends—I’m not sure Zachary thinks himself worthy of being called a friend to anyone. Eventually he showed me his paintings and I convinced him to let us sell them.”

“Keeping his identity private.”

“Always.” Her eyes narrowed; her voice firm. “He surprised me today when he told me you were with him.”

“I’m still rather surprised, too. We didn’t exactly start off on the best foot.”

Her laughter rang out again. “One seldom does with Zachary.” She paused, a knowing look on her face. “Today there was something different when he mentioned your name, though, something new in his eyes, something besides pain. His smile actually reached his eyes.”

I beamed at her words. I wanted to replace some of his pain. I wanted to be the reason he smiled. Somehow, he also helped to ease mine.

The door opened and Jonathon walked out, Zachary following him. He glanced around, swallowing hard as he lifted up the collar of his coat in an unconscious effort of hiding himself. His eyes found mine and he frowned a little, seeing Ashley and I together. I smiled reassuringly at him, and he seemed to relax. He shook Jonathon’s hand and came over to where I was standing. “Scaring her away?” he murmured to Ashley, being sure to keep his back to the few people still milling around the gallery.

She laughed up at him. “If you haven’t done that by now, I doubt anything I say can, my dear.”

Our eyes met, his filled with trepidation. Without thinking, I reached for his hand. His grip was tight as he clasped mine. I shook my head a little at his words. “No,” I offered quietly. “Not happening.”

He squeezed my hand, his expression now one of warmth.

“Tempest is leaving us, Zachary?” Ashley asked with a frown.

Surprised, I watched Jonathon removing my beloved painting from the wall. I glanced at Zachary, but he only shrugged and nodded.

“Yes. I want it at home now. I left some new ones to sell and another display one for you.”

“Have I seen it?”

“No.”

“Is it good?”

He snickered dryly. “I’ll let you decide that, Ashley.”

I smiled, watching him interact with her. She didn’t try to be anything but herself with him, and that was exactly what he needed. He glanced at me, lifting my hand and kissing it. “Ready to go?”

Ashley smirked at his gesture and wheeled away, chuckling.

I nodded, wondering how he would feel if I told him I was ready to go anywhere with him.

All he had to do was ask.11MeganZachary surprised me with his humor as he readjusted the driver’s seat and mirrors, muttering about short legs and midgets driving his “SUV.” His sidelong glance and ill-suppressed smile made me giggle at his unexpected actions. When he voluntarily covered my hand with his, on the drive back, my heart fluttered in my chest and I resisted the urge to cover his scarred flesh with my other hand. The unconscious gesture on his part meant too much for me to push things.

We were quiet on the drive, the silence not uncomfortable, as I watched the scenery speed by the window. The flashes of ocean and open spaces were mesmerizing, and I lost myself to the images. As we approached the long private road that led to the houses, though, Zachary lifted his hand, wrapping it around the steering wheel. Tension emitted from his body, and a quick glance showed me the frown that was now marring his face. Unsure why he seemed upset, I remained silent.

I became even more confused when he pulled up behind my car and cut the engine, his posture stiff.

What now? Was he dropping me off and leaving? Should I ask him?

I swallowed, my throat feeling tight. I didn’t understand this need to stay with him, but I knew I didn’t want to walk away from him. The idea alone was painful.

Zachary cleared his throat, his voice low. “I can wait,” he mumbled.

“What?”

“While you get some things… If you want to come back with me,” he stated gruffly. “Or I’ll bring Dixie back to you later when I take Elliott for his walk.” He paused, his hands twisting and gripping the steering wheel. "Whatever you are, um, comfortable with. Whatever you want.” His eyes remained locked straight ahead, and I realized he was waiting for me to make the decision.

He thought I would walk away.

I unclipped the seat belt and edged closer to him, slowly settling my hand over top of his on the steering wheel, making sure my touch was gentle. “I want to stay with you,” I whispered.