What Doesn't Kill You

by Cate Dean

  “I wasn’t hungry.” Actually, he was starving. He’d hoped to pick up something at Lily’s, but her tiny storefront takeaway was closed when he got there.

  “Right. You are always hungry. It’s your natural state. Come on,” she said, tilting towards the sidewalk. “I saved a roast beef sandwich for you.” His stomach grumbled, giving him away. Laughing, Annie held out her hand, and Zach knew he was forgiven. For now. “You’ll eat, and I’ll talk. No.” She raised her hand as he opened his mouth to argue. “You will listen this time, and not run out mid-sentence. It’s been six months, and I can’t stand watching your mom, my best friend, suffer for saving your life.”

  “She lied to me—”

  “She was protecting you.”

  Zach let out his breath, tried again. “She kept the truth from me.”

  “And would you have believed her?” Annie stopped, holding her stomach. “Baby, you are getting too big for my britches.”

  Panic shot through him. “You’re not—”

  Laughter burst out of her. “Not right this second.” She draped one arm over his shoulders, leaned against him. Zach supported her around the waist—or where her waist used to be. She really was enormous. Not that he’d ever say that out loud. Again. “Thanks. Now keep holding on while we walk home. I do enjoy a captive audience.” He snorted, and Annie smiled. It faded, telling him he wouldn’t like what she said next. “It’s time for you to settle this.”

  He was right. Those words shot his good mood to hell. Before he could pull away, she anticipated him, her fingers digging into his shoulder. “Annie—I can’t.”

  “You can, Zach, and you will.” He stared at her, startled by the lack of snark. She sounded—concerned. It completely freaked him out. “Claire risked her life to help you, and believe me, at the time, you didn’t deserve it. The you that came back was a much improved version. But I see you headed back to that selfish, self-centered prick we first encountered. I don’t want that to happen to you. You’re a good kid, and you have too much going for you to blow it now.”

  “Annie—God, was I that bad?” He remembered pieces of it, but not enough to put all the fragments together.

  “We put a binding spell on you, punk.” That pretty much painted a clear picture of the former him. “Though you did heal Claire, and at the end, you did care. More than I thought you could.” Sighing, she leaned harder, and he felt her exhaustion, low and constant now. She was one of the few people he connected to on an emotional level—another side effect of his confrontation with the fire elemental. “I didn’t want to give you an ultimatum, Zach, but it’s been longer than even I expected. You are as stubborn as your mom.” He stiffened; part of him had been waiting for this since the day he knocked on her door. “Talk to her, or you’re out.”

  “Okay.”

  She looked at him, eyebrows raised. “That’s it? No argument, no excuses? I was so looking forward to a rousing argument. Eric hardly raises his voice around me, afraid he’ll traumatize the baby. I know he’s just storing it up for after.” Zach laughed, and a smile flashed across her face. “You don’t need to tell me I’ve been less than a joy to live with—I want to get away from me. How do women do this more than once?” She let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, thank God.”

  The house Eric bought for her after they all came back from England appeared as they turned the corner. Half a block from the beach, it was big, rambling, and as eclectic as Annie. Zach could get lost in the half dozen rooms, spend hours in the ginormous library, and hide in the back bedroom when he needed solace.

  All that just became a memory, unless he talked to Mom. And who knew what would come after? He may go home—or be forced to leave Santa Luna. He knew most of the outcome depended on how he acted, or reacted, to whatever Mom might dredge up. He did not want to know any more about his past; what he’d learned was depressing enough.

  “Annie!” Eric ran down the long, sloping sidewalk. “You’ve been out in this damp too long. It’s not good for—”

  “I’m fine, Eric. Stop fussing.” Zach’s mouth dropped open when she slapped Eric’s hand away. “I can damn well walk to the door of my own house by myself.” She jerked out of Zach’s grip and did just that.

  Eric sighed, glanced over at him. “I can’t seem to do anything right, lately. That’s the pregnancy thing—I hope.”

  Zach bit back a smile, and followed him into the house, ready for that roast beef sandwich. Then he had thinking to do. A lot of thinking.

  *

  Claire opened her eyes. Her bedroom was dark, Marcus warm and solid next to her. She shifted on the bed, and smiled when the arm around her tightened. Even asleep, he felt her.

  And she felt Zach.

  One finger brushed the amethyst heart at her throat. Heat radiated from the crystal, warming her skin. It deepened the ache in her heart. She missed Zach; so badly it left her breathless at unexpected moments.

  How could one person completely insert himself into her life? She had been on this earth for centuries, and even Annie, as much as Claire loved her, didn’t wrap her heart as completely as Zach.

  With a quiet sigh, she eased out of Marcus’ embrace, slipped her robe on, and headed to the kitchen. After pouring a glass of water, she leaned against the counter, staring out the window. Zach was just a few blocks away, maybe looking at the moon, or hunched over his laptop. Claire knew he wasn’t asleep. Her amethyst only gave off that kind of heat when he was awake, and usually restless.

  It was time to mend this break between them. She hurt too much from it, could barely get past the pain of it some days. Even if it ended with him leaving, at least there would be closure.

  They both needed it, whether he thought so or not.

  Setting the empty glass in the sink, she wandered out to the living room, and lowered herself to the sofa, wrapping both arms around her waist. The ache was back, sharp and breath-robbing.

  I can’t live like this.

  “Claire.” Marcus stood in the doorway, wearing only his black jeans, sleep tangled curls cloaking his bare shoulders. Before she could open her mouth to protest he crossed the living room and sat beside her, gathering her into his arms. “Your pain woke me, sweet.” His lips brushed her temple. “It hurts me, knowing I can do nothing for you.”

  “Being here does more than you know.” She held on to him, closed her eyes. “I’m going to talk to him tomorrow, whether he wants to or not. I can’t do this anymore. It feels like my life is slowly disintegrating. And I know from Annie that Zach is not all charm and light.”

  “Was he ever?”

  She let out a choked laugh. “Most of the time, yes. Just not around you.” Brushing his curls back, she kissed his cheek. “Since you helped save my life, his opinion may have changed. Let’s go back to bed. I want to be clearheaded when I order him to get his bum back home.”

  Marcus studied her, jade green eyes narrowed. “You are not planning to order him.”

  “No, but I can fantasize.” For the first time since Zach left, she felt a real smile tug at her mouth.

  “I assume you do not want me here when you have this talk.”

  Her smile faded. “I know he would feel more comfortable if you were not. This is going to be difficult enough. I don’t want you to think I—”

  “Am kicking me out, after just inviting me in?” He smiled, and the charm that was so much a part of him slid over her skin. “I will live with the temporary eviction.” His emphasis on temporary didn’t escape her.

  Before she could stand he lifted her in his arms and carried her back to bed. Claire laid her head on his shoulder, feeling cared for, the knot of grief in her heart loosened. Marcus always knew what she needed, without smothering her. Spending the rest of her life with him—however long it may be—was going to be an adventure she looked forward to.

  FOUR

  Standing at the window, Claire watched Zach walk up the sidewalk to the front door. She had closed the shop early today, to get here before he arrive
d, wanting him to feel welcome, to know she cared.

  She couldn’t get over how much he had changed in six months. Blonde streaks highlighted his shoulder length golden brown hair. The surprise of his tanned skin, when she thought he would always stay pale, told her he had been spending a great deal of his time away from her outside.

  The biggest shock was the wide shoulders, and the lean, defined muscles in his arms. This was not the gentle boy who walked out of her house.

  Her heart beat faster; she wrapped her fingers around the amethyst, feeling heat flare as he looked up, saw her in the window. He halted, and she saw panic skate across his face. Before she could move to the door, he started walking again, each step slower than the last.

  By the time he reached the front door and rang the bell she stood waiting, yanking the door open before the bell finished chiming.

  “Zach.” He met her eyes for a second, then stared down at his feet, one tennis shoe scuffing the porch. “Please, come in.”

  Heaven above, she sounded so formal, like she was talking to a stranger. Up close she noticed that he was taller, the lines of his face more angular. As much as she wanted him not to, he was growing up, changing. And she wondered what he was doing that made such a difference, not only in the way he looked, but in his confidence.

  “Yoga,” he said. “And I’ve been learning how to surf.” His voice was deeper, edged with the same humor she always heard in Annie’s. It took a moment for her to realize he answered her unasked question. She raised her eyebrows, and he shrugged. “New talent. It only works with certain people.”

  “I hope you haven’t—” She stopped herself before she could finish lecturing him. She didn’t have the right anymore. “Come in and sit down. Are you hungry?”

  “Always.” He sat on the sofa, a smile touching his mouth. “And I don’t invade anyone’s mind. Not intentionally. I’ve learned how to pull back.” He tore open the bag of chips she had set on the coffee table, stuffed a handful in his mouth as he eyed the wrapped sandwiches. “Is that roast beef?” The hope in his chip-muffled voice had her smiling.

  “Fresh from Lily’s. There’s another one in the fridge, if that isn’t enough.” So far, their exchange had been easy, normal. She knew that would change as soon as she finished her next sentence. “We can talk while you eat.”

  His hand froze above the sandwich, retreated. “I’d rather talk first.”

  “Your choice, Zach. If you want to eat first, I can wait.”

  “Stop.” Startled, she lowered herself to the sofa. “I don’t want you to be polite, like I’m some stranger, or a guest. I want you to talk to me like before. I miss that.” He stared down at his hands. “I miss you. Mom.”

  Tears stung her eyes. “I miss you as well, Zach. I am so sorry, for keeping the truth from you. For lying to you. I wanted your life to be as normal as possible, until you found your place in it.”

  “Finding out the way I did was shocking. I didn’t handle it very well.” He reached out, hesitant. Claire gripped his hand, and with a choked sob, pulled him into her arms. She let out her breath when he returned the embrace, the ache easing. “I’m sorry, Mom. I hurt you, and it was wrong. I never meant to stay away, but it just got harder, what I said to you just getting bigger every day. After a while, I didn’t know how to get past it.”

  “We both walked the same path, sweetheart.” She eased back, brushed hair off his cheek. “I hurt you, and it tore at me, knowing I couldn’t take back what happened to you, couldn’t change it. I would do it for you again, without hesitating.” He closed his eyes. “No, Zach, no more hiding from it.” He looked at her, clear blue eyes shadowed. “What you were is part of who you are now. You need to accept it, and move on. Your past is going to shape you, whether you want it to or not.”

  “Since it’s already started, I can’t say you’re wrong.”

  “Before we eat, I do need to tell you one more thing.” She took a deep breath, aware it could break their fragile peace. But he had the right to know. “Marcus asked me to marry him. I said yes.”

  “Wow.” He sat back, running one hand through his hair. “Are you happy?”

  “Incredibly. It feels right, Zach. And I never expected to have any kind of connection, with anyone. What I was, what I had done—”

  “You don’t need to rehash, Mom.” He looked almost panicked. Claire figured he had reached information overload, and took pity on him.

  “I love him, and I know he will make me happy.” She touched the amethyst heart at her throat. “But you are always right here. Whether you decide to come home or not, you will always be in my heart.”

  A blush spread over his cheeks. “We done talking now?”

  She laughed, ruffled his hair. The boy she brought home was still in there. “We’re done.”

  He let out his breath and leaned forward, picking up the plate with the sandwich. “Are you eating?”

  “If you want me to join you.”

  “Duh.” He smiled, and laughter burst out of her. It felt good—to see her son smile, to joke with him. To touch him. It was only the beginning of a long road back. But it was a beginning. A hopeful one.

  *

  Claire had said goodbye to Zach last night, sending him back to Annie’s for now. But he showed up this morning to help Claire open the shop, for the first time since he left.

  She planned on it being the first of many more.

  They fell easily into their former routine, and Zach munched on the breakfast burrito she’d picked up for him while he booted up the computer. Claire joined him behind the counter and lowered herself to the stool she kept tucked in a corner, blaming her exhaustion on too little sleep.

  Half an hour into opening she knew it was going to be one of her bad days.

  “Zach?” He stuck his head out from behind the tall display shelf. “Can you bring out the box on the table in the back room? I want to redo the jewelry display.”

  “Sure.” He didn’t question, since hauling boxes was part of his duties.

  Claire pulled the stool over to the glass case while he was out of sight. She wanted to be settled when he came back, so he wouldn’t see her shaking—or worse, have her legs give out in front of him.

  By the time he came back she sat in front of the case, and had the top braced open. “Thank you, sweetheart. Just set it on the corner. And can you do me another favor? I am really craving one of Lily’s protein smoothies.”

  “Okay.” She almost laughed at the way his eyes lit up. Some things never changed, and that lightened her heart.

  “My purse is under the counter. Take enough to get a snack for yourself.”

  “You’re sure?”

  She smiled. “Trust me, you’ll earn everything you eat.”

  “I can eat more than you think.”

  She did laugh this time, and watched him tuck her small wallet in his shirt pocket before all but sprinting out of the shop. With him gone, and the shop empty for the moment, she let the exhaustion wash over her, knowing by now that fighting it would just mean a more vicious backlash later.

  When her hand stopped trembling, she focused on the box, and pulled out the first of the hand crafted jewelry. It had been sourced for her by Michelle and Penn, made by an acquaintance of theirs in England, and would be an exotic, welcome change from the same old pendants and crystals she usually carried.

  This jewelry designer, a genius with silver and stones, took crystals that complemented each other and turned them into bracelets that caressed the wrist, and multilayered charms that could be worn singly on a chain, or combined to strengthen the crystals. Penn told her the designer was Wiccan; Claire admired the artist’s vast knowledge of crystal magic and healing. Just handling the gorgeous pieces helped boost her energy.

  But not enough to keep her from dropping another bracelet on the floor. The third one in ten minutes. She pushed herself off the stool and braced her hand on it, knowing she would need the leverage to stand.

  “Can I get t
hat for you?” She stilled at the unfamiliar voice. He didn’t give her a chance to turn around; she felt him beside her as one graceful hand appeared, picking up the bracelet. “Here you are.”

  “Thank you.” When she straightened and turned around, she was surprised that she stood almost eye level with him. After hearing the deep voice, she expected him to be tall.

  Her second shock came after his fingers brushed her hand. A sharp burst of power scorched her, had her stumbling backward.

  “I’ve got you.” He was stronger than he looked. Lean, wiry arms wrapped around her, helped her back on the stool. “Can I get anything for you?”

  “My pride.” Claire smiled at his warm laugh. Sitting on the high stool put her at eye level, and he had beautiful brown eyes, with the long, thick lashes most women would kill for. His smooth, shaved head only accentuated them. She looked away before her staring became rude. “Thank you for the hand up. Can I help you find anything?”

  “Actually, I came hoping for a tarot lesson. But if you are not up to it—”

  “If it’s sitting, I’m good. And the lesson will be free, since you so graciously kept me from becoming better acquainted with my floor. I don’t mean to be rude, after your assistance, but have we met before?”

  He shook his head. “Trust me, I’d remember meeting you.”

  “I must be thinking of someone else.” But it nagged at the back of her mind. Those eyes—she had seen them before. And not recently, not in the life she created for herself here.

  He helped her stand, and the power touched her again—this time like a warm breeze, coiling through her, moving deeper with each breath. It felt—glorious. And her exhaustion fled, leaving behind a strength she hadn’t felt since she couldn’t remember when. “The table is in the back,” she said. “Let me get my deck and I will—”

  “We can use mine.” He opened his hand, revealing a palm-sized deck. Overhead light slid off the gilt edges, the gold leaf and raised jewel tone decoration on the face of the top card. Queen of Swords. Claire stared at the deck. She wasn’t wrong about her memory this time. She had seen this deck before, in a different century. His deep, smooth voice broke into her thoughts. “I’ve been insufferably rude, not introducing myself. I am James.” He held out his right hand.