“But you have the fireplace? That doesn’t seem to bother you as much.”
“It used to. It took me a long time, but I slowly overcame the fear. I couldn’t bring myself to brick up the fireplace, since it was one of the things I liked most about the house. It’s more contained with the hearth and screen; I like how it smells and the sounds it makes, and Elliott likes the heat. I never sit close.”
“And you’re able to light it.”
“I can control it. I’m very careful. I’m sure you saw the long fire-starter matches.”
I nodded and thought for a moment. “So, ah, some fire frightens you?”
His eyes shut, his face warring with emotions. He pressed his head down into the pillow, bringing me back to his chest, his voice tinged with weariness. “I don’t like it, but no, fire itself doesn’t frighten me. What it can do frightens me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You think I should be afraid of fire because I was burned?”
“I guess I thought you would be.”
“I’m sure some people are…afterward. It depends, I suppose—”
“On?”
Silence filled the room. I could feel his heart beating rapidly under my ear. Too rapidly. I was about to tell him I would stop pushing, when he spoke again.
“On how you were burned.”
My stomach knotted at the sound of his voice—distant, removed.
“It’s like guns, Megan. They don’t kill people. The person pulling the trigger does.” His voice dropped further, becoming more remote. “Fire itself didn’t set out to burn me. The person holding the flame did.”
Icy fingers of dread wrapped around my spine. I gasped for air, unable to catch my breath. Zachary’s arm tightened as he lifted his head. “Megan?”
“I thought…I thought you’d been in an accident?” I choked out, horrified. “Someone…did this to you? Deliberately?”
“Yes.”
“W…why?”
“To teach me a lesson.”
My heart hammered in my chest as my breath came out in small bursts of air. I shook my head in disbelief. “No.”
His eyes were flat, his voice cold.
“Yes. I deserved it.”13Megan“Yes. I deserved it.”
I blinked at him in shock, not sure I’d heard him correctly. I struggled to draw in oxygen. It felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. The weight on my chest was hard and heavy, as I tried to process his words.
He deserved it.
How could he think that? I couldn’t understand.
I couldn’t even fathom it.
After he uttered those words, my stomach heaved. I continued to stare at him, shaking my head, my mind running his words on a loop, hot tears streaming down my face. Zachary sat up, confused at my reaction.
“Megan?” He placed his large hand on my arm, squeezing my bicep, his grip gentle. “Why are you so upset? Don’t do this. Don’t cry.” He rested his forehead to mine, his warm breath washing over my skin. “I’m not worth it.”
I pulled back, horrified.
Don’t cry? Not worth it?
“You need to explain this to me,” I gasped.
His eyes narrowed; the intimacy we had shared evaporated and his gaze became stern. “I don’t have to explain anything to you. I told you my past wasn’t pretty.” He threw back the covers, his movements jerky as he grabbed his clothes, yanking them on, and headed to the door. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Not now. I’m not ready.”
My heart thundered in my chest. “Will you ever be ready?”
He paused, his hand gripping the doorframe, fingers wrapped tight on the wood. “I don’t know,” he admitted, walking out of the room.
Stumbling, I found my clothes and followed him downstairs, where he was shrugging on his overcoat, ignoring me. “Where are you going?”
“Elliott and I are going for a walk. It’ll give you time to calm down.”
“Calm down? You say that to me, refuse to talk anymore, explain, and you expect me to calm down? Do you really think it’s that simple? Talk to me, Zachary!”
He turned; his eyes so dark and filled with anger, I flinched. “I told you I wasn’t ready to talk about it. You keep pushing!”
“I wouldn’t push if you would open up to me! That’s all I’m asking!”
“That’s all?” he sneered. “Why don’t you ask for my soul on a plate?”
“The way you talk it sounds like you don’t think you have one,” I shot back, trying hard not to cry again.
“Not one worth this emotional outburst of yours.”
“Maybe I think you’re worth being emotional about.”
He shook his head. “You barely know me.”
“Because you won’t let me in.”
“Back to that again. You’re beginning to sound like a broken record, Megan. Do you think I owe it to you to talk? To open up, as you say? Because we slept together?”
I let out a sharp gasp at his hurtful words. “I think after what we’ve shared the past few days you owe me that, yes.”
“I owe you nothing. We’re both adults. You knew what you were getting into when we slept together. I didn’t promise you anything.”