Beneath the Scars

by Melanie Moreland

  Beside me, Dixie whined, wanting to go for a walk. She wasn’t happy when I snapped on her lead before we descended to the beach. I couldn’t risk her taking off in the direction of Zachary’s house. I purposely led her in the opposite direction, ignoring her gentle pulls to head toward the light on the bluff. “Not tonight, girl,” I whispered, patting her on the head. “We’re on our own.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat as I wondered if we would be on our own from now on. In my need to help Zachary, to reach out and show him how much I cared, I might have, in fact, pushed him away. Tears stung my eyes as I realized I wasn’t sure if he would return to me.

  I tossed and turned in my bed. Twice I got up and looked toward the house. Zachary’s light burned all night. Sleep only came in small spurts; the next morning I was groggy and desperate for coffee. With a groan, I realized my cream was in Zachary’s refrigerator and I would have to drink it black, as well as go into town and get some supplies. As predicted the skies were heavy, a dull gray blanket covering the world, so I decided to go in early and get my errands done before the rain came.

  My phone rang with Karen’s ringtone and I grabbed it off the counter, sitting on the sofa as I answered.

  “Hi.”

  “Hey, stranger. How are you?”

  “Good. You?”

  “I’m fine. Everything okay there for you? You haven’t called in a few days and your texts were rather short.”

  My eyes drifted to the window and the dark sky. “Um, yeah. Just been busy.”

  “Are you writing?”

  “Trying.”

  Karen’s voice sounded worried. “Megan, are you okay? You sound strange. Is Dixie okay?”

  I cleared my throat, tugging on my ear in worry. How could I tell her what was happening? I had no idea how she’d react if I told her all that had happened since I arrived. I chose the easier route and fibbed a little. “Yeah, she’s fine. I’m just fighting another headache. The weather’s been quite bad. You know how it affects me.”

  “I know. Here as well—such strange weather for this time of year. Don’t you have your meds?”

  “No, I forgot them.”

  “Why don’t you talk to the pharmacist in town and maybe they can contact your home pharmacy and do a refill for you?”

  “That’s a good idea. I’ll go in today. I need cream anyway.”

  “Megan, are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine. Really.”

  “Do you need anything?”

  I drew in a shaky breath. I needed Zachary. “No,” I whispered. “Really, I’m okay. I’ll call in a couple days once the weather breaks and I feel better.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes.”

  “If you don’t, I’ll come there and check on you. You know I will.”

  I smiled at her bossiness. She was a good friend and I knew she was worried. I cleared my throat. “I will. I’ll get some pills, so I can sleep and feel better. I’ll call you in a couple of days.”

  “Okay.”

  I hung up and walked over to the window again, leaning my forehead to the cool glass. My breath caught when I spied Zachary on the beach, standing with his back to me, as Elliott ran around. Moments passed while I stared, transfixed, at his distant figure, the long overcoat billowing out behind him. I reached for the glass door, yearning to go to him and beg him to talk to me. I wanted to wind my arms around him and feel his coat wrapping me close to his warmth. I longed to hear his steady heartbeat under my ear as he held me to him, nuzzling my hair with his lips. A tear ran down my cheek as I thought about what his low voice would sound like as he whispered he had missed me, that everything would be okay now, and he wasn’t letting me go.

  None of that happened, though. Without so much as a backward glance, he whistled for Elliott and together they disappeared from sight.

  I slumped against the glass. The air I’d been holding in escaped, a deep sigh fogging up the window. Using my sleeve, I wiped away the dampness on both the glass and my cheeks. He didn’t even look toward the house. He didn’t come to check up on me to see if I was okay. He had closed himself off again.

  He chose when I would leave and he pushed me away.

  Grimacing, I wiped away the last of my tears. I was so tired, but I had to go and do some errands. Once more, I had to move forward.

  Alone.

  It was a huge effort to walk around the small town, picking up the few things I needed, and smile back at the friendly clerks as they wished me a good day. Karen was right and the pharmacist was very helpful; I now had some medication in case of another headache. The one I had I knew was from my overwrought emotions and lack of sleep. The drive back seemed endless and it took all my willpower not to continue up the road to Zachary’s place.

  After unpacking my things, I took Dixie on another walk, letting her run on the empty beach. Part of me hoped Zachary would hear us and Elliott would come out to run with her; and even more so, I hoped he would appear, but there was no sign of either of them. The studio was in darkness and there was nothing to indicate he was inside. I knew he sometimes went elsewhere to paint or sketch—maybe he wasn’t home—or perhaps asleep. His studio light had burned all night; and he once told me sometimes he painted all night then slept all day.

  I sighed, wondering if maybe he was looking out his window, watching us, regretting the day I ever walked into his life, wishing I would leave, so he could return to his completely private life.

  The thought of him being alone and isolated made my chest ache with sadness.

  He was too full of life to cut himself off again. He didn’t see it, but he had so much to offer, so much to give if he allowed himself the opportunity.

  With one last glance, I turned and headed back to the house. I could feel the storm closing in, and Dixie and I needed to be safe when it hit. I scooped her up, holding her close as we made our way back to the house. “We’ll make some popcorn and have a quiet evening, then go to bed early, okay girl? Maybe we’ll watch a movie, just you and me, like old times.”

  I refused to think about how much cozier it had been when it was the four of us together and I was curled up beside Zachary watching a movie and eating popcorn.

  Furious hammering on the door woke me from my restless drug-induced sleep on the sofa. I sat up in the darkness, blinking and confused, unsure of the time. My heart pounded in my chest as hope flared, wanting it to be Zachary who woke me, yet panicked it might not be him. Dixie whimpered from the end of the sofa where she’d been sleeping, and I put my hand out to soothe her. Rain was beating down on the roof and lightning streaked across the sky, silhouetting the shadow that stood outside the doors, as the beating resumed. Warily, I snapped on the light and pulled back the curtains to reveal Zachary’s ravaged face pressed against the window. Sliding the door open, I backed up as he stepped inside. He was soaking wet, rain rolling off his broad shoulders, causing the water to puddle around his feet. His hair was plastered to his head, black and gleaming in the light. His eyes were dark and stormy like the waves that pounded on the sand outside.

  Silently, we stared at each other. His chest heaved with his gasping breaths and I found my own breathing picking up as he gazed at me, a myriad of emotions flowing in his eyes, his mouth drawn tight. His body was rigid; rage and fear rolling off him, his hands fisted at his sides. I was powerless to move in the face of his pain. “I’m sorry,” he pleaded. “I’m a fucking idiot and I’m so very sorry, Megan.”

  Relief punched through my chest, my hand flying to my mouth to stifle the sob that threatened to escape. He was here. He was apologizing.

  “I only wanted to help.”

  “I know. I didn’t mean it. Tell me you know that.” He caught my hand and placed it on his chest. “Tell me you can forgive me.”

  Overwhelmed at his plea, I could only nod.

  “I can’t stay away from you. I’ve tried all day to resist it, but all I could think about was you. How you looked at me yesterday, Megan
.” His lips brushed over my shaking hand, his voice softening. “How do you say so much with those eyes of yours? How do you affect me so fucking deeply?”

  Small bursts of electricity charged through me. My legs began shaking as our eyes held. “You do the same to me,” I whispered. “You affect me, too.”

  “I can’t sleep without you either,” he hissed. “I tried, but I can’t. How is that possible? God damn it!” He lunged, jerking me hard to his chest as his mouth covered mine possessively. I gasped as I met the coldness of his body. My shock fast became a hot, blistering need as he worked my mouth, tongues seeking, our breaths mingling, becoming one. Whimpering, I held him to me, needing to feel his roughness—to know he was real. My hands twisted in his wet hair, holding his face close to mine as I gave him what he wanted. I gave him everything I had and he took it; growling as he kissed and moaned, claimed and seized. He blindly reached behind him, shutting the door with a loud slam. He lifted me as if I weighed no more than a feather, walking down the hall to the bedroom, stumbling against furniture and walls, never loosening his hold.

  Neither of us pulled away. Neither of us wanted to separate for even one, single second. My back hit the mattress, him on top of me; icy, wet rain running off and soaking into the fabric all around us. Neither of us cared.

  His mouth pushed into mine, needy and hot, his chilly hands slipping under my shirt. Abruptly, he sat up, gripping and tearing; the material giving away under his strong hands like paper succumbing to scissors. His mouth closed around my aching nipple, sucking hard, and I gasped, arching closer to him. Back and forth he went, leaving no inch of skin untouched by his lips and tongue, laving and teasing, leaving trails of heat behind. He drew back long enough for me to pull his shirt over his head and then he was back on me, his cold skin welcome against the burning warmth of my mine.

  We kissed and touched for what seemed like hours. Zachary’s mouth and hands never ceased in their caresses and strokes. I reveled in his touch, thinking it had been lost to me forever. “Megan, I want you,” he murmured, his breath hot in my ear, causing a shiver to run down my spine. “So beautiful.” He moaned as he pinned me to the mattress with his body, heavy and possessive, the weight of him wanted and real. Grunting and pulling, the rest of our clothing was torn away, his erection hot and thick in my hand as I stroked him.

  He hovered over me, panting, as he touched his forehead to mine. “Please.”

  Barely holding on to my sanity, his low, rough voice pushed me over the edge.

  “Zachary,” I implored, my need for him as desperate as his was for me.

  His hands ran up my legs, his touch firm as he pulled my thighs apart and pushed inside me…hard. There was nothing gentle in his lovemaking tonight; it was all about possession. His hips thrust with power and speed as he took me, groaning and cursing, his head buried in my neck while he surged and claimed. Pleasure sparked and peaked as I held him tight, crying out his name as I came. I fell apart under him while he kept moving, crushing me to his chest so hard it was almost painful. He emptied himself inside me, moaning my name, his hot lips pressed to my skin. Shuddering, he collapsed, rolling so I was nestled into his side, but his hold not lessening.

  Our ragged breaths filled the room as we calmed. I shivered as the sweat on my body cooled, realizing the bed below us was damp with rain and seawater. Zachary swore lowly and stood up, grabbing his pants, pulling them on. I watched in silence, dread filling my heart—he was leaving.

  He turned on the light beside me and I blinked at the sudden brightness. “Do you have a robe or something?” he asked.

  Embarrassment flooded my cheeks at his subtle rejection. I slid off the bed, fighting back tears, not wanting him to see how his words upset me. His hands wrapped around my biceps, stopping me. “Hey.”

  “It’s behind the door.”

  “Why are you crying?” His voice sounded horrified. “Jesus. Did I…did I hurt you, Megan?”

  “No,” I whispered, grabbing my robe and slipping it on, needing to cover myself from his eyes. “Just go, Zachary.”

  “Go?” His voice was confused, his hand cupping the back of his neck as he stared at me. With a groan, he wrapped me in his arms. “Megan, I got up because you’re shivering. I’m not leaving without you. I’m taking you home with me.”

  “What?”

  His finger ran down my cheek. “I told you—I can’t sleep without you now. I need you beside me.”

  I looked at the bed behind me. “But—”

  He grimaced. “I was so fucking desperate, I came in here like a damn caveman, took you with barely a word, and your bedding is soaked. I can’t let you stay in there.”

  “I can put it in the dryer.”

  “It’s three in the morning. Let me take you back home with me and you can do that later today. I want you beside me in my bed. Please, sweetheart.” He rested his forehead on mine. “Please.”

  The unexpected endearment brought the tears back to my eyes. He shook his head sadly. “A single word,” he murmured. “One single kind word from me and you cry. You take all the harsh ones and roll with them, but one kind one does this.” He gently wiped away the moisture. “I don’t deserve your tears.”

  “I love you.” I needed to say the words that had been burning in my head, out loud, needed him to know how I felt.

  His hand stilled on my cheek. His face became lax with shock. The tension in his body increased, his eyes widening with astonishment.

  “Nobody loves me. Nobody ever really has.”

  “I do.”

  “You don’t even know me,” he insisted.

  I shifted closer, his arm wrapping around my back, holding me to him. “I do know you. I know you’re alone because you choose to be. I know you’re lonely. I know you have a beautiful soul that needs to be loved.”

  “You think my soul is beautiful?”

  “Yes.”

  He shook his head. “It hasn’t always been. My past…my past is ugly, Megan.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I love you here. Now. Not for your past. Not for what happened to you.”

  “It might change your mind.”

  “It won’t.”

  He searched my gaze. “How can you be so sure?”

  “I simply am.”

  “But you want to know.”

  “I deserve that.”

  He held me closer, his lips grazing my forehead with a sigh. “Yes, you do.”

  “You’ll tell me?”

  He hesitated.

  “I want, I need, to know all of you,” I implored him. “Good and bad.”

  “Later today,” he promised. “Come home with me and let me hold you. Let me make up for earlier. Then later I’ll answer any question you ask.” He paused. “I’ll tell you everything.”

  “Okay.” I wanted to stay beside him. I wanted to feel his arms around me.

  I didn’t fail to notice he didn’t say I love you back.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I woke up slowly, my hand reaching for Zachary, only to find cold, empty sheets. Hearing muted barks, I padded over to the window, taking in the dull gray of the morning.

  The overcast sky was dark, the ocean fast moving and angry, foamy waves of steel swirling with green as they pounded frantically along the shore. Trees and long grass bent in the wind, and farther in the distance, small boats bobbed furiously on the water. The storm was not done with us yet. Elliott and Dixie were running around the beach, barking and playing, wound up by the weather.

  In the midst of all the chaos stood Zachary. A tall, solitary figure in his dark overcoat, standing in the shallow surf, staring out in to the unending distance. His hands were shoved in his pockets, hair blowing in the wind, feet deep in the frigid water. His stance screamed tension. The urge to go down and wrap myself around him, to offer him some comfort, was great. My fingers gripped the edge of the window tight in order to not give in to the desire. I knew our argument had upset him and his promise to tell me his story was weighing on
his mind. The thought my declaration of love was also upsetting him caused a small ache in my chest.

  My fingers plucked nervously at the edge of the long shirt I was wearing. After wrapping me in the damp comforter last night and scooping up Dixie, we had returned to his house. Zachary had carried both of us; his long gait across the wet, cold sand ate up the distance quickly. Once inside, a warm shower and gentle hands sliding a dry shirt over my head replaced the wet blanket and shivers. Slipping under the covers, Zachary’s hard chest molded to my back, holding me close as his breath whispered across my neck. “Sleep, sweetheart.”

  It hadn’t come easily—for either of us. His promise loomed too big, his tension so palpable that instead of the relief of quiet, blissful sleep, both of us were restless and trapped in our own dark thoughts. Physically close, the yawning gap between our emotions was vast.

  Now looking at him, once again choosing to be alone, I wondered if possibly he was right. Maybe he was too damaged. Maybe I couldn’t save him.

  Maybe…he didn’t want to be saved.

  The fire was burning low when I went downstairs, and I added another log the way Zachary had shown me, resituating the fire screen. The coffee was cold, so I dumped it down the drain and made a fresh pot, then went back to the window to watch Zachary. He had moved farther down the beach, closer to Karen’s house—his head now lowered, hands still deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched—as he slowly waded through the water. A shiver went through me watching him, trying to imagine how cold his feet must be, but he seemed immune to the icy water. He told me he liked how it felt against his skin.