Safe at Last (Slow Burn 3)

“Not you . . . I mean not right now. Them. Oh God . . .”

She choked on the last part and looked very much like she’d be sick on the spot. She was shaking violently from head to toe as though she were freezing, and her lips were stiff and clumsy. Each word seemed agonizing for her; she was clearly exhausted even though they’d only just begun. And they still had a long way to go.

“Them who? Tell me what happened, Gracie. Did someone hurt you?”

He couldn’t control the fierceness of his question even though he already knew. He couldn’t even think about what had been done to her, without rage consuming him. Even now he had to flex his fingers to prevent curling them into tight fists, but he didn’t want to display any outward sign of his fury. He had no desire to make her more afraid of him than she already was. She expected pain and violence from him when in fact he’d die before ever doing or allowing harm to her.

Her face crumbled in her distress. She made no effort to hide her tears and a sob welled from her throat, a sound that sent despair quaking through his heart.

She turned toward him then, her eyes wild and flashing, anger and distress rolling off her in waves.

“How can you sit there and ask that? You hurt me,” she raged. “You! How dare you sit there and pretend you don’t know what happened? Does it satisfy you to see the results of your handiwork? Or was that not enough and you want to push the knife a little deeper?”

He captured her other hand as it flew to her face in an effort to wipe away the signs of grief—and rage. Gathering them, his hands shaking violently as she had been shaking, he looked her in the eye, but God, it was hard. It was devastating to see the raw agony reflected in her gaze. He’d give anything in the world to go back. He would have never left her alone. If only he could have the last time he saw her back again. If only. There were so many regrets. So many mistakes. His greatest one had been not bringing her to college with him or him simply remaining at home with her until she finished school.

“I would never hurt you, Gracie. Never. I loved you. I’ve loved you forever. Tell me what happened. We have to get this out in the open or things will never be resolved between us. And we will resolve them. I won’t accept any other alternative,” he said fiercely.

She stared at him with obvious disbelief, her eyes flashing wildly. “Do you honestly think I could ever just get over you having me raped? That it’s something that can be resolved between us?”

Her voice rose to a shrill almost-shriek. Color rose in her cheeks and her chest heaved with exertion.

The words cut him like a knife. It brought to mind horrific images of Gracie. Helpless. Being savaged. And her thinking the entire time that he was responsible. His eyes burned as though he’d poured acid in them but he was determined not to lose it. She needed him to be strong right now. He had to be strong for both of them.

Even having heard parts of the story already, hearing her say it, seeing the accusation and pain in her eyes, nearly brought him to his knees. Every drop of blood fled his face.

He was still trembling, his hands clumsy and inept as he lifted her hands so they were solidly between him and her. Then once more he stared her directly in the eyes, praying she’d see sincerity—and truth—in his.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Gracie. But you listen to me and listen very close. You were my entire world. The very best part of it. I would never, ever do anything to hurt you. I’d lay waste to anyone who ever did. I have no goddamn idea where you got such a fucked-up idea like that. Jesus. Did you have so little faith in me then?” he asked, unable to keep the thread of hurt from his own voice.

He tried. God, he tried so hard to keep the hurt and betrayal out of his voice. But he just couldn’t fathom why she’d ever believe for a minute that he was even capable of such an atrocity. She wasn’t the only one with a deep sense of betrayal in this whole fucked-up mess.

“I believed in you more than anyone I’ve ever believed in,” she said, her voice trembling and raspy after her impassioned outburst. “If I hadn’t had irrefutable proof I would have never even considered that you were involved.”

“Irrefutable proof?” he asked, incredulity evident in the echoed words. “What the hell kind of proof?”

He was so goddamn tired of dancing around the issue. His frustration, which had simmered for days, was near its boiling point and he felt ready to explode.

“Just tell me what happened. Who did this to you? And what kind of proof makes you believe that I would ever be a party to any woman being horribly violated? Much less a girl I loved. A girl I planned to marry. A girl who I planned to be the mother of my children. The girl I wanted forever with. I get that you hate me, Gracie. But for fuck’s sake, the least you can do is tell me what the hell happened. Who put their goddamn hands on you? Who hurt you? Who raped you?”

His teeth were firmly clenched and his pulse was racing a mile a minute. Despite his best efforts to remain calm and keep his emotions in check, he was a ticking time bomb ready to explode.

He hadn’t imagined anything could hurt more than when he’d come home to find Gracie gone. Disappeared as though she’d never been the most important part of his life. He hadn’t thought anything could feel worse than the desolation that had become rooted in his soul for the last twelve years when, despite his best attempts, he continued to come up empty-handed in his search for her.

But this . . . This had the power to destroy him all over again. That she thought so little of him. That she had believed all this time that he’d turned on her. Hell, now the cryptic statement she’d made in the hospital about him finishing the job made sense. She thought he’d had her beaten in addition to having her raped twelve years ago. What kind of sick, twisted bastard did she think he was?

“Don’t you act like the injured party!” she yelled, tears running fast and unimpeded down her cheeks. “You aren’t the victim here. Do you think I just came to the conclusion you orchestrated the rape? Your friends raped me, Zack. Your friends. And no, they didn’t tell me you had them do it. They didn’t say anything at all. They were too busy laughing while I cried. But their thoughts were broadcast like a neon light. It was like reading a transcript to some horror movie. All three had the exact same memory of you asking them to do you a small favor. Like I was some pesky little nuisance you wanted to be rid of. Couldn’t you have just broken up with me like normal people do? Couldn’t you just tell me you didn’t want me anymore?”