The Love We Keep

by Toni Blake

  “I’m starting to think you might be.”

  Then he shrugged. “And I called Trent for help.”

  She let her eyes go wide. “Which involved Allie luring me out of the house today?”

  Another shrug from the rugged man before her. “That part was her idea. She’d been wanting to get together.” Then he looked to the table. “Ready to eat before it gets cold?”

  “Absolutely,” she said. “It looks wonderful.”

  “Dahlia’s lasagna recipe.”

  It smelled delicious—and left her even more stunned. “I didn’t know you cooked.”

  “Desperate times call for desperate measures,” he said, slanting her another playful grin as he set his crutches aside. “Trent cooked the noodles and meat, and I learned to layer a lasagna while Dahlia talked me through it on the phone.”

  She tilted her head, smiled. “Desperate times?”

  He still grinned at her across the table. “Well, not desperate. Just a thing I wanted to do. To let you know I appreciate you. And how much you...mean to me.”

  Suzanne’s jaw went slack. Had he really just said that? Still, she chose her response carefully as the Zack she’d always known would certainly recoil at words of deep affection “You’ve...come to mean a lot to me, too.” She shook her head, still trying to grasp this. “And I’m touched you would do this.”

  He tossed her a teasingly smug look. “Not bad for a guy you couldn’t stand when all this started, huh?”

  She threw back her head and laughed. “No, not bad at all. Pretty impressive, in fact.”

  “Trent had to pick out the bear for me from Koester’s, and I realize a stuffed animal and fake flower probably aren’t your style, but—”

  “I love them,” she cut him off. No, they weren’t her usual style, but she loved them with all her heart.

  As they ate, they talked about other things—her time with Allie, that it had challenged him to ask Trent for help but he was glad he had, and that Dahlia had sounded tired on the phone—but the whole time, the effort he’d put into this buoyed Suzanne in unexpected joy.

  “You even changed up—or should I say slowed down—your music.”

  He slanted her a look past the silk rose. “I’m not a total oaf,” he said, amusing her with his choice of words. “I know I can’t seduce a woman with ‘Bad Moon Rising.’”

  She tilted her head, cast a flirtatious smile. “Is it possible to seduce someone who’s already willing?”

  “Are you saying you’re ready to ditch the dinner and take me to bed?”

  Suzanne thought it over. “My plate’s empty.”

  “Then consider me dessert,” he told her.

  Her skin fairly sizzled with wanting him, so she didn’t hesitate to push to her feet. But wait. Go slow. Even if you want to run to the bed. She and Cal used to do that—run through the house to fall into bed together. And she wanted to do that now—run playfully, or maybe take his hand and let him lead her. Only he couldn’t. And that was okay. She didn’t mind waiting.

  Sometimes their sex was playful, full of laughter and fun. Sometimes it was hotter, about passion and hunger and reaching pinnacles she’d almost forgotten existed. When they came together on this night, though, it was slower, deeper, silent other than the heated sighs and moans they drew from one another. When Zack pushed his way inside her, Suzanne found herself wrapping her legs around his hips, circling her arms around his neck, clinging to him in a way she never had before. Because it felt safer now. Safer to feel. Safer to care. Safer not to hide it.

  “I love you,” she breathed in his ear as he came inside her. That felt safe, too. More than safe—it felt necessary. She needed him to know. That he was loved. By more than just Dahlia. Whether or not he ever gained full control of his body again.

  But what did I just do? I said I love you? First? To a known commitment-phobe? Because he made me dinner? Still wrapped around him, their bodies still joined, she shut her eyes and let more unmeasured honesty tumble out. “Oh God—I’m sorry. What I wouldn’t give to take that back.”

  He lifted slightly to peer down at her. “Why? I love you, too.” Said so easily, like she should have known.

  Her heart skipped a beat. “You do?”

  “Yeah, Miss Q, I do.”

  “I didn’t see that coming,” she confessed.

  “That makes two of us.” He rolled off her then, until they lay on their sides, facing each other. “Wanna know one thing that makes me love you?” he asked, eyes half-shut.

  She nodded.

  “You never make me feel weird. About...this.” He motioned vaguely toward his right leg. “I mean, I know our sex isn’t...the same as it would be if I hadn’t fallen.”

  “If you hadn’t fallen,” she pointed out, “we wouldn’t have any sex at all. So this is much better than that.”

  He gave her a gentle grin. “See what I mean? You make it okay.”

  She bit her lip, pressed her palms to his broad chest. “It really is, Zack,” she promised. “I mean, sex is more than just...the act. And I feel more connected with you having the use of one leg than I probably would if you had two—because...I know you must really want me, and trust me. For me, sex is an enormous act of trust—letting someone see your most intimate responses. And I love that you’ve trusted me with that—especially now.”

  Oh, so much truth she was putting on the table. And he loved her, too? He really loved her? It was a lot to take—and a lot to give—when she’d expected nothing more than another normal night. The weight of it pressed down on her as she let her gaze drop away from his.

  Using one bent finger to lift her chin, he asked, “If you love it so much, what’s wrong?”

  Sadly, the answer was one she’d known all along. “Loving you is...dangerous.”

  He didn’t pretend not to understand what she meant. “Because of what you know from Meg? That’s ancient history, Suzie Q.”

  Ah, of course he would blow it off with a throwaway line. Perhaps Zack’s depth could only extend so far. She didn’t fault him for it—she loved him for who he was. He wasn’t Cal. He wasn’t Beck Grainger. He wasn’t her usual type. But if he asked what was on her mind, she would tell him. “It’s that...you’re not content in one place for long. And I can’t handle that. I can’t handle loving someone who keeps leaving—not again.”

  His eyes widened. “Again?”

  Crap, what had she just said? Now maybe she was the one who didn’t want to go so deep. But she’d opened this can of worms, so... “It’s just that Cal, you know, did the Doctors Without Borders thing.”

  “Yeah,” he said, clearly not understanding. And how could he? She’d told him very little about it. It wasn’t her favorite subject.

  “He went three times,” she said. “Willingly. And I hated it. I didn’t want him to go.”

  “Oh.” Now he was getting it. Cal had died in the noblest of endeavors—it never occurred to anyone that maybe she hadn’t supported that endeavor. “Did you ask him not to?”

  She drew in a deep breath. Talk about hindsight being twenty-twenty. If only she had. And yet... “No—I couldn’t. I wanted to, but it seemed so selfish. Hey, don’t go save war-torn people on the other side of the globe because I’ll be lonely in our great big house. So I just told him how much I missed him when he was gone, hoping maybe that would be enough... But he was so driven to help others. It was his way of giving back—to God or fate or whoever gave him such a good life. He wanted to leave the world a better place. And so how could I ask him not to do this thing that fulfilled him?” She shook her head. “Simple—I couldn’t. I just kept hoping he’d see how it worried me, see how desperately I didn’t want him to go. I think,” she went on, eyes narrowed absently on Zack’s chest, “maybe it’s how I got the way I am now.”

  “The way you are?”

  “I generally
say what I mean, let people know what I think—and once I get started on something, I have trouble shutting up. Like now, for instance.”

  He grinned softly. “It’s okay—go on.”

  She couldn’t have stopped if she’d tried. “Back then, I was much more...well behaved. I was a good nurse, and then I was a good doctor’s wife. I was...appropriate, the kind of person you could take to a party full of sophisticated people without worrying I’d say the wrong thing. These days I can’t even get through an evening at the Knitting Nook without making a scene.”

  “Well, if it’s any consolation, I probably like the you who isn’t afraid to make a scene better than the you who wouldn’t.”

  She bit her lip, thought about that. Cal would have loved her anyway, appropriate or not. And Cal would have loved her just as much if she’d asked him not to go to Syria. “I wish now, of course, that I’d spoken up and said what I was thinking. But I also wish...”

  “What?” he asked when she didn’t finish.

  The spot between her eyebrows began to crimp painfully as tears threatened. “I wish he wouldn’t have made me ask. I wish he’d just looked into my eyes and let that be enough of a reason not to go. If he had, he’d still be alive. And I’m just so damn mad at him for leaving.”

  As she heard her own words, her chest gone tight, she gasped with horror as tears leaked free. “Oh God—I never realized I was actually mad at him,” she told Zack. “And what an awful thing to be mad about. And now I feel horrible. Because he’s gone, and he loved me.”

  Zack lifted one hand to her cheek—used the other to gently wipe away her tears. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I mean, a husband is supposed to put his wife first, right? And I’m no expert on that kind of thing, but...well, I think it’s okay if you’re upset.”

  She reached up, curled her hand around his wrist. “But, Zack, he helped people so much! People who really needed it! He operated on people’s knees, and hips, and he helped people...” She stopped, gasped. “He helped people walk again.” She spoke more quietly to add, “How can I be angry at that?”

  But even after this new information, Zack supported her. “I don’t think you’re mad at him for that,” he said. “You’re mad at him for putting himself in danger. Without considering what it risked for you, too.”

  “Oh,” she said. Because yes, that was it. Cal hadn’t been the only one with something to lose, and she wasn’t sure he’d ever acknowledged that with more than a smiling, “Don’t worry, honey—I’ll be fine.”

  “Anyway,” she said, swallowing past the lump in her throat, “that’s why I’m gun-shy, about you...and me. Cal left me alone, even if it was for a good cause. And you left Meg alone for half the year. And now I finally understand why that grated on me so much. The upshot is...you’re going to have the same problem with me that you had with Meg. I don’t want to love someone who’s going to keep leaving me.”

  Without missing a beat, he said, “You’re forgetting one big thing here, Suzie Q. Everything’s different than when I was with Meg. Everything.” Then he grinned that cute, sexy Zack grin. “I can’t even get to the bathroom at top speed, so just where is it you think I’m going? In fact, looks like you might just be stuck with me.”

  Part of Suzanne filled with cautious hope. And true enough—he could no longer just hop on a boat and sail off into the sunset. And maybe such an intense change of circumstance should be enough to reassure her—and yet... “Zack, why does it take paralysis, literally losing the ability to move, to make you stay in one place?”

  Zack looked at the woman next to him who he’d grown so attached to. Tell her. Just tell her. He tried to imagine summoning the words, telling her the thing he’d never told another living soul, not even Dahlia. But the very notion made his heart beat faster, his chest ache. There was a reason people didn’t go around spilling their ugliest secrets. Finally, he said, “If you knew, you might not want me around.”

  The last thing he wanted was to drive her away, but what had just snuck out was the truth, the words floating around his tired head. He hadn’t liked watching her cry over something that hurt her—and God knew he didn’t want to be another something that hurt her.

  If she could just trust him not to run away from her, and if she could just let all these questions go, he almost thought they’d have a shot at happiness. He had no idea for how long—he’d never been skilled at looking into the future—but what he felt for Suzanne went...well, soul deep. God knew he hadn’t been looking for something like that—he hadn’t even known he could feel that—but how could he not see everything in her that was lovely and sweet, tough and strong? How could he not love her and want to be with her every day?

  Next to him, she propped up on one elbow, the very move punctuated with a determination he’d grown used to in her. Her tears had dried now, her tougher side—the side that said what she meant—returned. “Zack, I’m not asking you for promises or commitments or anything you don’t want to give me. What would be the point of asking anyone for something they don’t want to give? That’s not really giving, you know? But I just want to understand you. I want to know you. I’m not going to judge you, I promise. And, well...” She stopped, her countenance softening as she looked over at him. “You just made me lasagna with your bare hands. Something I’m guessing you’ve never done for another woman, true?”

  He couldn’t deny that. “True.”

  She glanced toward the dining room table that still screamed Valentine’s Day. “You gave me a teddy bear that says Be Mine. Anybody else got one of those from you?”

  He sighed. She had him there, too. “Nope.”

  “Then I have to conclude that I must be pretty damn special to you. I must be someone you’re comfortable with. I must be someone you can open up to and say anything.”

  He got the point—if he couldn’t tell her, who could he tell? But that was his point, even if just in his own head: no one should hear this story, ever. And having a shadowy bad memory lurking in the recesses of your mind was a whole different thing than having to talk about it.

  Meg had tried to get him to, but he couldn’t. And now Suzanne was making a big freaking deal out of it, too? This was why he and Dahlia had always gotten along. She knew bad things had happened to him as a kid, but she’d never pressed him to talk about it. He knew the same about her but had also never pressed her. They both understood that life was easier without constantly dredging up the bad shit.

  “Maybe it feels like I’m keeping something from you—but it’s not like that, Suzie Q. It’s just... I went through some stuff as a kid that I’d rather not think about, okay?” There, that sounded reasonable—he’d explained it, not just shut her out. Surely she’d understand.

  “But...” she began, “if it’s the reason you have trouble committing to people, and places, that seems important. And...fair that I know. I mean, if you ever cut and run, I’d like to at least know why.”

  “Thanks for having faith in me to stick around like I just said I would,” he told her dryly.

  She shrugged. “Give me a reason to believe.”

  Women. Why did they have to know every damn thing about a guy? This was starting to remind him a lot of his troubles with Meg, just as Suzanne had said. Up to now, she’d seemed easygoing—but damn, you start throwing the L word around and everything gets all serious.

  Problem being, though, he did love her. He didn’t want to lose the good thing he’d found here with her. It had been...maybe the most unexpected gift of his life. Well, her and Dahlia—Dahlia had come along at a tough time, too, and her presence had been just as powerful.

  And so...he would try. Where the hell to begin, though? “You...know I had a little sister, right?”

  “Emily Ann,” she said.

  His stomach contracted just hearing the name out loud. Somehow seeing it painted on the back of his trawler didn’t hit him the same way. And
when he opened his mouth to talk again, nothing came out. He almost couldn’t breathe; his chest had gone tight. An image filled his head. A baby bed Emily had been too big for by then. His mother standing over it. He’d been eight years old.

  Breathe, damn it. Breathe. He felt a little light-headed, even lying down. And without looking at Suzanne, he said, “I can’t. I’m sorry, Suzanne, but I can’t.”

  “Oh,” she said from his left. “Okay.” The words came out short, soft, and with a chill that swept over him like a cold wind despite the fire blazing in the hearth.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “It’s fine.”

  “It’s obviously not.”

  “It is because it has to be,” she said, sitting up in bed, back rigid. “I told you, I don’t want anything you don’t want to give—so if you don’t want to tell me, it’s fine.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  “As I said, it just means there’s an important part of you I can’t know. And again, that’s fine. It’s your choice. I get it. I just don’t have to feel good about it.”

  “It’s not you, it’s me,” he said, meaning that with everything in him.

  But she simply let out a low, wounded laugh. “I think we’ve all heard that one before. And it never flies.” With that, she got out of bed, grabbing the long sweater she’d been wearing, throwing it on over her head.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, sitting up himself.

  “To take a shower,” she said. “And clean up the dinner mess.”

  He watched her go, knowing that if he let her walk away, they’d move backward. And he didn’t want that. He didn’t want that with a fury that burned in his gut. He’d loved Meg more than he’d realized before letting her walk away. He couldn’t let another woman walk away, even if it was only to the bathroom. It would really be much further. “Suz, wait.”

  She stopped, looked back, eyes distant, angry. “What?”

  “Lie back down with me.”

  “No.”