Beneath the Scars

I ran down the steps, hurrying across the beach. It felt as if there was an invisible string pulling me to his house—to him. About halfway across, both dogs suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs, barking and running toward me. Falling on my knees, I hugged them both, picking up Dixie to snuggle, her little body quivering with happiness.

I sensed his presence, and looking up, I was met with the vision of Zachary standing at the top of the stairs, watching me. Wearing loose pants and one of his long-sleeved, white linen shirts, his dark hair blowing in the breeze, he looked so good to me. My heart rate picked up as he began moving, taking the stairs two at a time and heading my way, his feet pounding against the hard sand. I stood up, rushing to meet him, images of a romantic lovers’ reunion filling my head. He would swoop me in his arms and swing me around, laughing joyfully at my return—of this I was certain.

Until, that was, I tripped, falling head first into his chest and sending us both crashing to the beach, a mass of entwined arms and limbs. “Oops,” I muttered, feeling my cheeks darken.

“I thought only steps were your problem.”

“No, flat, stable surfaces also present difficulties at times,” I mumbled into his chest.

He chuckled, the sound deep in his throat. His long fingers found my chin, lifting my head. Our eyes met and what I saw in them, made me forget my embarrassment. Deep, intense emotion that was lit with blue and green gazed at me, filling me with warmth. Love filled his eyes as he smiled, one long finger running over my cheek. “You’re home.”

Never had a word felt so beautiful.

I nodded, unable to tear my eyes away from his.

“Early.”

“I missed you,” I rasped out, my throat thick with unspoken words and feelings.

He dragged me up his chest, his arms encircling me like a vice. Lifting his head, he peppered my face with small, light kisses over my warm skin. “Megan,” he murmured, his voice sounding incredulous that I was back with him.

Threading his hand into my hair, he brought my mouth to his, parting my lips and kissing me deeply. I moaned as his taste exploded, filling my senses. Mint, coffee, and Zachary—nothing could be better. His chest rumbled beneath me as he held me close. His lips were soft and pliant, and his hand slipped under my shirt to stroke the skin of my back, causing shudders to run through me. The dull ache that had been present in my chest the past couple days disappeared now that I was in his arms. My entire body came alive against his as he welcomed me back, his mouth commanding mine. He teased and caressed, leaving me panting and breathless when he drew back, tucking me under his chin. A long sigh of pleasure blew across my head as he nuzzled my hair.

“Thank you.”

I knew he was thanking me for more than a kiss on the beach. He was thanking me for keeping my word by coming back to him.

“Always,” I whispered against his throat.

“I love you.”

Now, I was home.22Megan“Are you planning on eating that monstrosity, or only drowning it?” Zachary’s amused voice interrupted my thoughts.

With a grin, I lifted the bottle of corn syrup, snapping the lid shut and putting it on the table. I’d put on quite a lot. “I’ll share,” I offered.

He shook his head. “Syrup is for pancakes, Megan. Not ice cream.”

“No, maple syrup is for pancakes. Corn syrup is perfect for ice cream. It makes the yumminess-factor even better.”

“Yumminess-factor?” he repeated, curiously. “Did they teach you that phrase in writing school?”

I nodded, answering around a mouthful of the sweet treat. “It’s a good phrase.”

He chuckled and shook his head as I held the spoon out to tempt him. “No, I think I’ll pass.”

“Please?”

Rolling his eyes, he leaned forward, opening his mouth. I slipped the heaping spoonful inside, his full lips closing around the spoon slowly. I sat back and waited for his approval. He turned the sweet concoction around in his mouth and swallowed. “God, that is wretched.” He shuddered. “It’s like eating pure sugar.”

I grinned, eating another large mouthful. “Nope. Delicious.”

He sipped his black coffee. “Whatever. When you go into diabetic shock, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Okay, peppermint boy.”

“That’s different.”

“It’s still sugar.”

“Sharp sugar.”

I arched an eyebrow at him. “Sharp sugar?”

“It’s a good phrase. I made it up all by myself.”

I started to laugh, Zachary’s mouth quirking as he gave in and laughed with me. He placed his hand on my knee and squeezed it affectionately, then picked up his book again, still chuckling.

I loved it when he laughed. It was still something rare, but when it happened, he laughed with his whole body, the sound rich and low. His shoulders shook, his eyes crinkled, and his mouth stretched into the widest smile. His entire appearance changed—the constant lines on his forehead dissolving, the serious expression he always wore morphing into one of playfulness. It made my heart soar knowing, for even the briefest moment, I did that for him.