Beneath the Scars

by Melanie Moreland

  “It’s mine. We both know that!”

  “It doesn’t matter how often you say it. It will never be the truth. I’m not signing.”

  He slammed his hand down on the table, the water jug and glasses shaking with the force of his action. An ugly sneer marred his face—the face I now knew to be his real one. What I ever saw in him, I couldn’t remember now. “Your inane declarations are tiresome. My publishers don’t like any of this bullshit. They may not publish the book with this hanging over it.”

  “Good. It’s not your book to publish.”

  His eyes narrowed. “It is.”

  I glared back at him. “Well, we’re never going to agree on that fact.”

  “I want my book published.”

  “Then finish writing your other book, Jared. You can’t have mine. I don’t want your money.”

  He glared at me. “What do you want, then?”

  “For you to give me my book back.”

  He shook his head, contemplating me with a knowing jeer. “I can quote ninety percent of this book to you right now, Megan. Can you do that? Since, as you say, it’s yours.”

  “Of course not,” I snapped. “I wrote most of it two years ago and you made changes. You can quote it because you memorized the damn thing as you copied it. It proves nothing.”

  He shook his head again, an evil smirk twisting his lips. “It proves it’s mine.”

  Bill spoke up. “I think we’re done here. Ms. Greene isn’t signing.”

  I shook my head as Jared let out a string of muffled curses.

  Leaning forward, I scowled at him. “Stop harassing my friends. Leave me alone. I’m moving on with my life.”

  “Oh?” He snarled. “Anything you want to share?”

  I stood up. “No. I made the mistake of sharing with you once. I won’t do it again.”

  Pivoting on my heel, I walked to the door, gasping when Jared’s hand closed around my bicep. “You’ll regret this, Megan,” he warned in my ear. “You’re fucking me up and I’m gonna return the favor.”

  I shook his hand off. “You already did, Jared. Good luck with publishing my book.”

  I walked out of the room quickly, so he couldn’t see how hard I was shaking. Bill could finish whatever needed to be done, but I had to get out of there before I lost it totally on Jared. I pushed the elevator button, praying it would come fast. Once I was safely down in the lobby, I sunk into one of the chairs scattered around and waited for Bill.

  I didn’t feel better having faced Jared. If anything, I felt worse. He was so smug and arrogant. I cursed myself for ever seeing only his handsome face and not seeing the darkness that lurked behind his easy smile.

  I longed for Zachary. Even in his anger he was honest. I wanted to hear his voice. I had only spoken to him briefly when I arrived, then again this morning. He didn’t like to talk on the phone, and kept our conversations short. He did, however, assure me earlier he missed me and was looking forward to me coming home. I had stared at the phone for a while after he had hung up.

  Home.

  It was amazing how fast home had become the place where Zachary was. His very presence made me feel safe, and the way he seemed to need me made me feel complete. Here, without him, I felt very empty.

  Bill sat down beside me, shaking his head. “It’s not over, Megan.”

  “What now?”

  “He may come after you. He’s threatening slander or defamation of character, something. He’s desperate to discredit you.”

  Weariness settled over my shoulders. “You think I should sign? Give him my book and let the world think I lied?”

  “It’s not my field of expertise, but I’ll fight this for you,” he said, holding up his hand when I started to shake my head. “We’ve been friends a long time, Megan. I’m not asking for payment. I’d do this as your friend, but it could get ugly, and there’s a very good chance we’ll lose. It would certainly stop the book from coming out, though.”

  “I can’t let you do that. Your firm—”

  “Takes some pro bono cases. I could do this—for you.”

  “And if I lose, he gets the book anyway.”

  “It’s a risk. We have to see what his next move is.” He hesitated. “Can I ask you something?”

  I nodded.

  “Can you write another book, Megan?”

  “Yes.”

  “As hard as it would be to do, wouldn’t the money help you figure out the next step? Give you a break for a while to do that?” His voice became guarded. “Can you recover from this if he chooses to come after you?”

  I shut my eyes as I thought about it. I could write another book. I could find a job and move ahead with my life. I could take the money, walk away, and not have to worry how it would affect Zachary. A dull throbbing started behind my eyes and I rubbed my temples, trying to ease the headache that was coming on. “I don’t know,” I admitted quietly.

  “Think about it. We can talk in a couple days. The next move is his, if he decides to come after you.”

  “I will.”

  “Are you staying here?”

  “No. I’m going back to my place to get a few things, then head to Cliff’s Edge tomorrow.” The mere thought of getting back there eased some of the tension I was feeling. “I’m anxious to get back to Zachary,” I added without thinking.

  “Who is Zachary, Megan? Your next mark?” Jared’s voice was snide as he spoke from behind me.

  Slowly, I stood up, trying hard not to show my panic. How much had he heard? I didn’t want him to know anything about Zachary or where I was staying. Internally, I cursed myself for slipping up. I turned to Jared, who was eyeing me closely, a calculating expression on his face. I shrugged nonchalantly, hoping he bought my act. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I got a new dog.”

  His expression didn’t change. Desperate to throw him off track, I pulled out my phone. “Want to see a picture?” I asked, knowing full well he had no interest at all in seeing one.

  My ruse seemed to work. He sneered at me as he shook his head. “No, thanks.” With a nasty grin he turned to leave. “Think about what your lawyer said, and what I said, Megan. I meant it...you know I did.”

  A long, cold shudder ran through my spine as I watched him walk away.

  Karen was perched on the countertop, watching me clean out the refrigerator in my apartment. “I hate to say it, Megan, but maybe Bill is right. If you won’t accept the money to fight it, maybe you should walk away.”

  I threw another container of bad yogurt into the bin. “So he wins.”

  Her voice was filled with sympathy. “I think he already did.”

  The expired pasta sauce hit the edge of the garbage bin with more force than I intended. For a second I thought I had overthrown it and I would have to clean up another mess, but then it tipped into the can and I sighed in relief. “I guess he has.”

  “At least you get some money. Maybe the book will suck and there won’t be any sales.” At the rather insulted look I threw her, she chuckled. “I meant with the changes he made. Maybe it won’t be as good.”

  “I don’t want to take his money. It feels all sorts of wrong.”

  “Don’t think about it. Think about what it means. You don’t have to deal with him anymore. You can move forward with your life, and like Bill said, write another book.”

  I snorted as I tied the top of the bag shut. “Like any publisher would ever touch me with all of this attached to my name.”

  “Then you self-publish under another name and build up your reputation that way. You can do this, Megan. I know you can.”

  I adjusted the temperature and shut the door. “Maybe I should just walk away. Withdraw my statement and be done with it.”

  “I think if you’re going to do that, you should take the money.” She tilted her head. “At least get some compensation out of it. I bet if Bill went to them and said you’d take the money, they’d word the statement in a positive way.”

  “Like wh
at?” I shook my head. “That I was mistaken?”

  “I’m sure they could figure something out. If Jared got what he wanted, I’m sure he’d be happy to word it, ah, in a kind fashion.”

  “Yeah.” I nodded, sarcasm edging my voice. “He’s such a kind person.”

  “Give him what he wants, he might be. Think about it,” she urged.

  “I will.”

  She jumped off the counter. “Okay enough of this shit. No more about Jared or the book. We’re going to the salon and you’re getting the works: mani, pedi, facial, and I’ll trim your hair. Then we’ll order in pizza and drink our weight in wine. What time are you going back tomorrow?”

  “I have some errands to do, plus an appointment at the bank, then I’ll head back. I plan on being there in the early evening.”

  “Okay. Got your stuff packed?”

  “Yep.”

  “Good.” She grinned at me. “I call girls’ night officially started.”

  I couldn’t help but return her grin. She was right. I needed a break from everything else.

  “Girls’ night it is.”

  I woke up early the next day, my head surprisingly clear, considering how much wine we’d consumed the previous night. Karen and I had sat up late talking, drinking—the way we often had since we met.

  A hot shower swept away the last of the cobwebs, and feeling ambitious, I went to the kitchen to make coffee. I moved around quietly, knowing I was the only one up. Chris was away and Karen wasn’t going into the salon until late morning. My laptop was taking up counter space and I pushed it aside to fill the coffee pot, frowning when memories of last night’s wine-induced idea came back to me.

  In a moment of weakness, while I was lamenting missing Zachary, I had typed his professional name into a search engine. I was shocked at the amount of hits that came up, considering he had been such a big star before the age of internet had fully hit. There was a vast amount of information regarding both his personal and professional life. Karen and I had looked at some pictures, agreeing he was incredibly handsome. I was embarrassed to realize I had downloaded some of them. As I studied a couple, I also recognized something else: all the pictures showed his rugged good looks, but if you looked in his eyes, you saw the truth. They stared at the camera, void of any emotion, even ones where he was smiling. Lifeless and cold, his eyes made me shiver and think that perhaps I wouldn’t have liked that person very much.

  The Zachary I had come to know, who was beginning to open up, to show his feelings, was indeed a different person. What had happened—his past—had changed not only his physical appearance, but also the person inside. I thought about how different he was since we had come together: warmer, gentler. Maybe, I thought with a smile, I had changed him. Maybe the love I had shown him, helped make him that way.

  I groaned when I looked at my history and saw not only a large number of pictures, but I had even purchased and downloaded an unauthorized biography on his life. I remembered thinking it was a good idea at the time, and that knowing more about him might help me to understand him better.

  Now, with a clear head, I knew if there was something I wanted to know, I should just ask him directly. I wondered how he would respond if I showed him some of the pictures and asked him more questions. Hearing Karen moving around, I opened a new folder and transferred all the pictures and the book into it, labeling it Zachary. I would go through it all later, and delete most of it, once I made the decision about talking to him.

  At the exact moment, I needed coffee.

  Small excited tremors ran through my stomach as I drove into Cliff’s Edge mid-afternoon. Thanks to my early start, I had accomplished not only my errands, but also managed to move the bank appointment up, so I was on the road prior to noon. Zachary wasn’t expecting me yet, so I was hoping to surprise him. I stopped, grabbed a few things at the store, and even dropped by to say hello to Ashley, telling her how much Karen loved the scarf I had given her. She showed me a couple new pieces Zachary had brought in, and we chatted for a few minutes. Her smile, when she told me she had never seen him look so at ease or happy, made me blush a little. The fact he admitted to her he missed me, made me long to get home even quicker. Before I left, she handed me some tubes of paint he had ordered. Outside, as I was putting them in the trunk, the breeze caught the small order form, lifting it high and swirling away across the parking lot, coming to rest part way across the pavement. I hurried over to grab it, almost reaching it, when it lifted back up, drifting higher and landing on the road. I watched it with pursed lips as it drifted far out of my reach, then decided not to chase after it. If he needed another copy, Ashley would make him one. Right now, my only goal was to get to him.

  I pulled up behind Karen’s house, and after a few minutes of hesitation, carried my bags inside. I had most of my things here, although it seemed more of my possessions were up at Zachary’s daily. Still, I wasn’t sure how he’d feel about me arriving at his place with suitcases. Moving quickly, I put away the few groceries, even though I hoped most of them would end up at Zachary’s later.

  Opening the glass door, I inhaled the fresh air and reveled in the sound of the waves crashing along the shore. My eyes immediately went to the house on the bluff. As usual, I admired the way it nestled on the edge of the forest and overlooked the vast expanse of water in front of it. It appeared deserted, but I knew chances were he’d be in his studio, given the bright light of the day. All the windows were treated with a special film that blocked out the harmful rays, while still allowing light in so he could work and be comfortable. I could picture him in there, surrounded by his canvases, holding his paint palette, lost to the vision in front of him. I loved watching him create, deep in concentration.

  I ran down the steps, hurrying across the beach. It felt as if there was an invisible string pulling me to his house—to him. About halfway across, both dogs suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs, barking and running toward me. Falling on my knees, I hugged them both, picking up Dixie to snuggle, her little body quivering with happiness.

  I sensed his presence, and looking up, I was met with the vision of Zachary standing at the top of the stairs, watching me. Wearing loose pants and one of his long-sleeved, white linen shirts, his dark hair blowing in the breeze, he looked so good to me. My heart rate picked up as he began moving, taking the stairs two at a time and heading my way, his feet pounding against the hard sand. I stood up, rushing to meet him, images of a romantic lovers’ reunion filling my head. He would swoop me in his arms and swing me around, laughing joyfully at my return—of this I was certain.

  Until, that was, I tripped, falling head first into his chest and sending us both crashing to the beach, a mass of entwined arms and limbs. “Oops,” I muttered, feeling my cheeks darken.

  “I thought only steps were your problem.”

  “No, flat, stable surfaces also present difficulties at times,” I mumbled into his chest.

  He chuckled, the sound deep in his throat. His long fingers found my chin, lifting my head. Our eyes met and what I saw in them, made me forget my embarrassment. Deep, intense emotion that was lit with blue and green gazed at me, filling me with warmth. Love filled his eyes as he smiled, one long finger running over my cheek. “You’re home.”

  Never had a word felt so beautiful.

  I nodded, unable to tear my eyes away from his.

  “Early.”

  “I missed you,” I rasped out, my throat thick with unspoken words and feelings.

  He dragged me up his chest, his arms encircling me like a vice. Lifting his head, he peppered my face with small, light kisses over my warm skin. “Megan,” he murmured, his voice sounding incredulous that I was back with him.

  Threading his hand into my hair, he brought my mouth to his, parting my lips and kissing me deeply. I moaned as his taste exploded, filling my senses. Mint, coffee, and Zachary—nothing could be better. His chest rumbled beneath me as he held me close. His lips were soft and pliant, and his hand slipped
under my shirt to stroke the skin of my back, causing shudders to run through me. The dull ache that had been present in my chest the past couple days disappeared now that I was in his arms. My entire body came alive against his as he welcomed me back, his mouth commanding mine. He teased and caressed, leaving me panting and breathless when he drew back, tucking me under his chin. A long sigh of pleasure blew across my head as he nuzzled my hair.

  “Thank you.”

  I knew he was thanking me for more than a kiss on the beach. He was thanking me for keeping my word by coming back to him.

  “Always,” I whispered against his throat.

  “I love you.”

  Now, I was home.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “Are you planning on eating that monstrosity, or only drowning it?” Zachary’s amused voice interrupted my thoughts.

  With a grin, I lifted the bottle of corn syrup, snapping the lid shut and putting it on the table. I’d put on quite a lot. “I’ll share,” I offered.

  He shook his head. “Syrup is for pancakes, Megan. Not ice cream.”

  “No, maple syrup is for pancakes. Corn syrup is perfect for ice cream. It makes the yumminess-factor even better.”

  “Yumminess-factor?” he repeated, curiously. “Did they teach you that phrase in writing school?”

  I nodded, answering around a mouthful of the sweet treat. “It’s a good phrase.”

  He chuckled and shook his head as I held the spoon out to tempt him. “No, I think I’ll pass.”

  “Please?”

  Rolling his eyes, he leaned forward, opening his mouth. I slipped the heaping spoonful inside, his full lips closing around the spoon slowly. I sat back and waited for his approval. He turned the sweet concoction around in his mouth and swallowed. “God, that is wretched.” He shuddered. “It’s like eating pure sugar.”

  I grinned, eating another large mouthful. “Nope. Delicious.”

  He sipped his black coffee. “Whatever. When you go into diabetic shock, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”