by Janie Crouch
But God, not a single day had gone by when she hadn’t thought about Zac. And that night, two weeks after Becky had died, when they’d both been drinking...
After that night, she still thought about him, but now it was about how much he hated her, how he’d left her bleeding physically and emotionally, and had turned her away so brutally. Drunk or not, he’d still devastated her.
When she’d moved back, Anne had known she’d run into Zac eventually. Oak Creek wasn’t large enough for them to avoid each other forever.
But she hadn’t thought it would be in her second week of work.
Nor that it would be so painful or overwhelming, or that six years later the last words he’d said to her would still burn so agonizingly through her psyche.
I can’t even bear to look at you. You just betrayed the only person in this town who ever wanted you here. Get out and don’t come back.
The memory almost had her running for her office again.
She’d survived that night too. And after she’d finally managed to get herself together, she’d taken Zac at his word and gotten out.
She’d even transferred out of state to finish her residency, so she wouldn’t risk seeing anyone she knew. Especially Zac Mackay.
But out of options, she’d ended up back here anyway. He couldn’t run her out of town now because she had nowhere else to go, no savings, no way of starting again.
She was staying. Zac would have to live with it.
Anne was standing alone at the nurses’ station when she heard a voice behind her. “I don’t know why you thought you could hide. It was only a matter of time before someone remembered you.” Mia.
She was just as beautiful, maybe even more so, as she had been in high school—wavy blonde hair, big green eyes, full pouty lips.
Anne breathed in a silent, calming breath. “I wasn’t trying to hide anything, Mia. I just didn’t announce my maiden name, that’s all.”
Those green eyes narrowed. “I remember you. You thought you were better than everyone else. Smarter too.”
Anne let out a small sigh. “I was shy. Talking to people wasn’t my forte, as you well know.” It still wasn’t. But at least in the hospital Anne didn’t have as much difficulty. Usually.
Mia’s eyes narrowed. “You always followed Zac around like a puppy or something.”
Other people were starting to mill around them. Anne forced herself to stay calm. She knew her own emotional triggers. Multiple eyes on her tended to induce the stuttering.
“Becky Peverill was my best friend. Becky and Zac were inseparable. So yeah, I-I-I...” She stopped. Swallowed. “I was around Zac a lot in high school.” And hell, the puppy description was probably accurate.
“Well, Zac and I are together now. He’s mine and you can’t have him.”
Anne almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of that statement. Zac had never been hers, would never be. The one night they’d gotten close, she’d ended up bloody in more ways than one.
She was saved from having to answer when Riley passed by the station at that moment, medical chart in hand. “That’s totally not true and you know it, Mia. You and Zac aren’t a couple. You haven’t ever been a couple.”
Mia glared at the younger woman. “Whatever. He’s hung out more with me than any other woman in this town.” She turned to glare at Anne again. “Just don’t forget that.”
Mia turned and headed toward Zac’s room. Riley and Anne watched her go.
“I see some things never change.” Anne shook her head. She wouldn’t be able to look that sexy walking across a room if she had the rest of her life to practice.
Riley shrugged, handing the chart to Anne. “Yep. Welcome home. Here are Zac’s CT results.” She gave Anne a little nudge on the arm, then walked away.
Alone again, Anne looked down at Zac’s file. Everything was fine. He would be fine. No permanent damage, no need to stay overnight or run any further tests. With anyone else, she would be happy to go back and share the good news.
With Zac, she had to brace for the emotional blow that was coming. She’d grown up with alcoholic parents who turned on a dime. She’d learned early on that a fist you were unprepared for hurt the most.
She wouldn’t let her guard down with Zac. Not this time. Never again.
But Oak Creek was her home now. If she had to fight to stay, she would.
Even though she was terrible when it came to fighting, particularly for herself. She hadn’t been able to do it as a child, and as an adult she was even worse. She’d never learned to protect herself. The best she’d been able to do was make herself invisible.
She wished she could go back to the last two weeks, when no one here had known who she was.
It was so much easier being invisible.
The biggest problem with working in the ER was the insane schedule.
Emergencies happened when they happened. And it felt like they always decided to just when Anne was trying to get off shift.
She’d ended up working another eighteen hours after Zac had left with Mia, who had smiled broadly as she’d promised to take prompt care of any and all Zac’s needs.
Which shouldn’t bother Anne. Whether he and Mia were together or not had nothing to do with her. Fortunately, the constant activity in the ER had left Anne too busy to think much about anything, including Zac. Then once things had finally calmed enough for her to head home, she’d promptly fallen asleep for thirteen hours.
But for the last two days, she’d had to force herself not to think about Zac. Not to think anything about him at all. Better for her sanity that way.
It wasn’t like he’d be having motorcycle accidents all the time and showing up in her ER. Oak Creek was small as far as towns went, but big enough that she could dive headfirst behind a cart if she saw him while at the grocery store or something.
Anne rolled her eyes at herself. Yeah, she’d just avoid him. And given her schedule—it was eleven o’clock at night and she was currently wide awake, unpacking boxes in her new home—it shouldn’t be a problem.
Home.
Thanks to Carol, she had a home, owned free and clear. With a yard where she’d be able to plant a little garden: fruits, vegetables, flowers...everything. She’d love to get a dog too—had always wanted one—but her schedule wouldn’t permit it. It wouldn’t be fair to leave the poor little guy on his own if she ended up working a twenty-four-hour or more shift.
But she had a home. Even back in high school this house had always been closer to home than the rundown, two-bedroom, government-subsidized place where her parents had lived. During their sophomore year, Becky had struck up a conversation with her—she’d found Anne inside the grocery store trying to figure out a way to stretch whatever measly amount of money she’d been able to pilfer from her parents into a week’s worth of meals. Then Becky had dragged Anne to her house for dinner. From that moment on, to Anne, this place had been everything a home was meant to be.
The walls around her were no longer the pastel colors Carol and Becky had painted them in high school. They no longer held all the decorations and heavy curtains Carol had leaned toward. She’d had it painted before she died, made it a place where Anne could come in and start fresh. So, the house could be hers rather than her feeling like she was a guest.
Sadness sat heavy on her chest for a minute. Carol had died of lung cancer, although she’d never smoked, and by the time it had been caught it was already stage IV. Anne had flown in immediately from Tampa, even though she hadn’t really had the money to afford it. She’d gone with Carol to the oncologist to ask the questions Carol might not have known to ask. Ultimately, with a prognosis of only six months to live and having already lost all her other family, Carol had opted against chemo.
Anne had tried to talk her out of that, but the older woman hadn’t listened. And God bless her, Carol hadn’t had much money, but she’d had this house. All Anne could do now was appreciate that the woman had continued to be as generous in her death
as she’d been in life.
She had a home, one she planned to be in for a long time. She’d continue to pay off her massive debt, then add what she could—furniture, knickknacks—as time went on. She didn’t have much money right now, but she had time. The other stuff would come.
She dragged a box across the floor. The only thing she owned right now that had any aesthetic appeal at all was her collection of books. Her furniture was mostly secondhand or cheap quality, her car only ran on good days, and she’d never been someone who enjoyed expensive jewelry.
But her few rare books were her prized possessions, not to mention a ton of non-rare that she loved. Everything from Tolkien to Jane Austen to John Green.
So, she would make the heavy bookshelf she’d gotten at a secondhand store in Tampa the centerpiece of the room. She would face the couch toward it the way other people’s faced a television. Who cared if no one else understood her collection? She didn’t plan to have many people over anyway. This would just be for her.
She grimaced. Moving that solid, wooden bookshelf would be a bitch. But she wasn’t likely to have anyone around to help her for the foreseeable future, so she might as well get it over with.
She’d gotten it about five feet across the room, pulling from one direction and then pushing from the other, when she decided it would be easier, if a little riskier, to tilt and walk it side by side. She was moving the first corner when a pounding on her front door made her jump—and the heavy bookshelf began to topple over on her.
Anne cried out, putting all her strength under it to keep it from crushing her as it fell to the floor, but it wouldn’t be enough. She wouldn’t be able to stop it.
She heard the door open.
“What the hell?” came a man’s muffled voice before his much more considerable strength was added to hers and the bookshelf was righted again. “Annie?”
“Zac?”
“What are you doing here?” they both asked at the same time. Then they stood in silence, waiting for the other to answer.
“How did you get in?” she asked. “I know I locked the door.” It may not be necessary here in Oak Creek, but it had been in Tampa.
“I have a key. Carol gave me one when I moved back to town four years ago in case she ever locked herself out or something. I saw the lights on from the road and wanted to make sure no one was breaking into the place. What are you doing here?”
“I live here.”
It wasn’t easy to catch Zac off guard. Evidently, this news did. “What?”
She shrugged, stepping further away from him. “Carol left it to me in her will. It’s a big part of the reason why I moved home. Um, thanks for the help.”
Zac ignored her, walking around, glancing at the walls, the boxes. The house wasn’t big. Three bedrooms and an open floor plan that allowed the living room, dining area, and kitchen to open into one large space. He finally turned to study her before looking at the bookshelf again.
“Where do you want this? I can’t leave here wondering if they’ll find your body buried under it in a couple days.”
She pointed where she’d been trying to get it and together they moved it much more easily. She grabbed a few of her most precious books and arranged them on one of the heavy wooden shelves.
“There. I feel more at home already.”
“You and your books. You always had your head buried in one.” He looked around again. “It didn’t take you long to erase every bit of evidence that Mrs. P lived here. She told me she was leaving it to family, someone she felt could use it. I thought it would just be sold, honestly. But I never dreamed she’d leave it to you.”
She flinched at his hard tone, but didn’t defend herself against his accusation of erasing Carol. What difference would it make if he knew Carol had painted the walls herself before she died? “I never dreamed she’d leave it to me either. But it helped me in ways she couldn’t possibly have known.”
Zac looked away. “She had cancer. Didn’t tell any of us until it was too late.”
She nodded. “Yeah, she was already stage IV by the time she was diagnosed. I came out from Tampa a couple times to go to the oncologist with her.”
His gaze snapped up and she couldn’t help but take a step back. “You were in town?”
“For a couple days. In case Carol had any questions or didn’t understand something her physician was talking about. It can be pretty overwhelming.”
“And the funeral?”
“I was here. But again, only for a day or two.” Anne had booked a room out of town both times. The thought of staying at The Mayor’s Inn had been too painful. She couldn’t even look at that hotel without feeling sick to her stomach.
And she’d avoided everyone—particularly Zac—as much as possible. Just in case his words about not coming back were still true. She tried to swallow the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. Maybe he still felt that way now, even though he hadn’t said anything at the hospital.
“There.” He pointed at her. “That look that just came into your eyes. I saw it at the hospital. It’s like you’re afraid of me, Annie.” He took a step closer and she instinctively one back. One of his eyebrows shot up, letting her know she’d proved his point. “Do you think I’m going to hurt you?”
“No.” Not physically. She’d never worried that he’d hurt her that way, despite having five inches and probably fifty pounds—all muscle—on her.
But he was right. She couldn’t continue living in Oak Creek with them ignoring everything that had happened that night. What had been said. What had been done. Maybe she would’ve tried to, and to avoid Zac forever, if he hadn’t ended up in her ER.
But the truth was, there weren’t enough bushes in this town for her to jump into. She was going to run into Zac. A lot.
Sometimes all you could do was face the past.
She pulled a breath in. “I’m not scared of you. I mean, I know you would never hurt me physically. For crying out loud, you wrecked your motorcycle rather than hit a dog.” She’d meant for her laugh to seem breezy, but it just sounded stilted. “But yeah, I mean, we can’t pretend like that night never happened. The stuff we did. Stuff you...we said.”
His eyes narrowed. “That night we spent together after Becky died.”
“Yeah. That night.” As if they’d had another. “The bottom line is, I can’t leave here, Zac. No matter what you said then, or even if you feel the same way now.”
He shook his head, brows furrowing. “I don’t expect you to leave. You’re obviously a respected doctor, more than competent. Why would you think I wanted you to leave?”
Some of the tension she’d been carrying since his arrival in the ER began to ease. He was right. Something said in grief and anger six years ago didn’t necessarily hold true all this time later. She was silly for thinking it did. “Okay, well, it’s good to know you don’t feel the same as you did back then.”
He took a single predatory step closer, and she tensed again. “I said something that night to make you think you needed to leave?”
She stared at him, her mouth flopping open like some sort of fish. “You don’t remember what you said?”
Those words would be engrained in her memory forever.
Get out and don’t come back.
He rubbed his forehead. “That whole night is fuzzy for me.”
I can’t even bear to look at you. You just betrayed the only person in this town who ever wanted you here.
Tossing her naked into the hallway before flinging her clothes at her.
“What do you remember?” She forced the words past a throat that seemed to have dried up.
His hand moved to the back of his neck. “Honestly, not much at all. It’s sort of a blur.”
She retreated a step from him again. That night had been the most important night of her life. The best. The worst. It had changed the very fabric of her being.
And it was sort of a blur for him.
“I mean, I know we had sex, right?” T
hose blue eyes pinned her.
He couldn’t even remember that clearly.
“Yes.” Sort of.
It had all been going fine until he’d realized she was a virgin, and she’d been stupid enough to tell him she’d always loved him.
He rubbed his forehead. “And then afterward we fought?”
His hand dropped down and he watched her, studied her, evidently hoping she would shed some clarity on his fuzziness. And all she could do was try to keep the pieces of her heart from shattering into a million more right here in front of him.
He didn’t remember.
That had defined her life, and he didn’t remember.
She’d often wondered if he’d regretted his words. If he’d been concerned that they might have truly wounded her more than he’d meant them to. If he’d considered trying to find her and talk through what had happened, what had been said.
But he hadn’t. Because he didn’t remember.
And now he wanted her to fill in the blanks.
Like hell she would. If he couldn’t remember, she wasn’t going to help him.
She forced a smile onto her face. “You know what? We were drunk, Zac. That night is a little blurry for me too,” she lied. “Let’s agree to forget about it and move on.”
His eyes narrowed. “But I said something that made you think I didn’t want you in Oak Creek anymore.”
I can’t even bear to look at you.
Get out and don’t come back.
Anne closed her eyes. For six years she’d known she should hate Zac for what he had done, what he had said, but she’d never been able to. She couldn’t hate him. What he’d said had come from the unbearable pain of having just lost his family.
Still, it had destroyed her.
And he didn’t remember it at all.
She tried her best to smile. “I think the statute of limitations pretty much eradicates anything either one of us said that night. Especially since you can’t remember.”
