Chapter 7
Zane
Standing here in Tessa’s childhood bedroom is undoing me. Every memory I have here, from visiting her to bring her food because I knew she wasn’t eating enough, to checking in just to make sure she was alive, slams into me at once.
Even the time her dad tried to kill me because I’d fallen asleep talking to her, and he’d thought we were sleeping together. It hadn’t mattered that I told him I had no intention of having sex until marriage.
Something I didn’t stick to when I strayed from God after losing Tessa. I’ve since asked His forgiveness and stuck to my new vow of celibacy, even knowing I would likely never marry. I’ve never felt anything for anyone else that even came close to what I felt for Tessa.
What I still feel for her even as she stands here, staring at me like I’m the enemy.
“We agreed that we wouldn’t talk about it.” Her walls are back up, firmly in place, and she glares at me like I betrayed her.
“We agreed not to talk about the night you left. Not about where you’ve been.”
Tessa glares at me. “I’ve been all over the place. Most recently, Savannah,” she says.
“Why there?”
“I like peaches.”
“You hate peaches.”
It was the one fruit she never liked to eat. I found out a few years after we met that the reason was because her mother always drank peach schnaps, so the smell nauseated her.
“People change,” she retorts. “What do you do for a living?”
“Government work.”
“Which explains nothing,” she replies.
“I was in the Navy for a while. After that, I got pulled in for contract work.” She doesn’t have to know it was by force. Or that I’ve pulled a trigger more times than I can count. Always when it was mine or innocent lives on the line—though that doesn’t make it any better.
Killing is still killing. There’s no positive spin on it.
“The Navy?” She arches a brow. “I didn’t see that coming.”
I cross my arms. “You said you don’t know if someone is after you. Why would they wait outside your apartment after tossing it?”
“I have no idea. I’d just gotten a new job, and things were starting to look up.”
“Where?”
“An environmental agency in Savannah. I was working as a secretary.”
“How long?”
“Three months.”
“What was the name of the company?” I press.
“Southeast Environmental Commission.” She crosses her arms. “What made you decide not to become a doctor?”
It’s the third time she’s asked that question, and although I really don’t want to answer it, I need her to keep answering mine. “You.”
“Me?” Her eyes widen in surprise.
“When you went missing, I put everything I had into finding you. The police couldn’t do much, and I was angry. Weston was headed into the Navy, so I went, too. Because I’d already done four years of college by the time I was nineteen, I went in as an officer, and the rest is history.”
“But you’d always wanted to be a doctor. You were supposed to start med school after we got back from our—” She trails off, but I know what she was going to say.
When we got back from our honeymoon, we were going to move into an apartment in Charleston so I could start med school while Tessa worked on her bachelor’s at the University of South Carolina.
“Things change.” I clench my jaw. “Was the company in any hot water?”
“They’re an environmental company,” she deadpans. “So I doubt it.”
“You’d be surprised.” My gaze travels over her bruised cheekbone and the cuts and scrapes on her arms. “I need to know about the night you were attacked.”
“Why? You’re not a cop. Why does it matter?”
“It matters to me,” I reply. “And if I know, then maybe I can find out if someone is actually after you or if you’re going to be safe.”
She closes her eyes for a moment, then takes a deep breath. “I don’t see how that’s possible since you’re not a cop, but fine. If you really want to know, then I guess we can consider this show and tell.” Her voice quivers.
She’s afraid.
And that just infuriates me even more.
Unable to do anything else to get rid of this anger inside me, I clench both hands into fists and wait.
“Like I said, I went home after picking up some dinner. It was the first thing I’d eaten that wasn’t out of a can in months, so I was pretty focused on it.
When I saw that my door was partially open, I thought I’d just forgotten to close it.
But when I looked inside and saw everything was a mess, I knew that something was wrong. I dropped the food and turned to run.”
“Where were you going to go? The police?”
“No. I was going to leave and start over again. I’ve done it before.”
When you left me. That’s why I couldn’t find her. Because she didn’t want to be found.
“What happened next?”
“There’s an alleyway between the apartment building and the restaurant beside it.
I was passing by, and someone grabbed me.
” She crosses her arms, and her bottom lip quivers.
“I didn’t get a good look at him because it was dark.
He hit me first, which is what sent me back onto the ground and gave me this.
” She gestures toward the bruise on her face.
It's all I can do to keep my head.
“That’s when I realized he had a knife. I kicked him in the groin, which dropped him down, and he stabbed me.
I didn’t get the feeling he was trying to kill me, but I didn’t want to wait around to find out.
While he was down, I kicked him in the face, got up, and took off.
I managed to get into my car before he could catch up to me—but barely. ”
“Why do you think he wasn’t trying to kill you?”
“I heard someone yell, ‘Don’t let her get away,’ from what sounded like a phone on speaker. Again, I didn’t wait around to ask questions.”
“He chased you?” If what she overheard on the phone wasn’t enough to sway me toward a targeted attack rather than a random mugging, that would.
Muggers don’t want attention, so nine times out of ten, they’ll bail at the first sign of trouble.
If this guy actively pursued her, then he was out for something else.
“Yes. I still didn’t see his face, though. Like I said, it was dark, and I was more focused on getting away.”
Because I need to do something, I take my baseball cap off and run a hand through my hair. “Is your car nearby?”
She shakes her head. “It broke down right before I reached Tidewater Bay.”
“How did you get here?”
“I wrapped my thigh in a sweatshirt I found in my trunk so no one would notice it; then I walked.”
“You walked on your injured leg? That must have taken at least an hour.”
“Two, actually. And yes. I needed a place to lie low, and this seemed like the best option. It’s been so long since I was here; I figured there would be little chance anyone would find me.”
“Why is that? It wouldn’t be hard to trace you once they have a name.”
She stares back at me for a moment, then shakes her head. “No, my turn. What exactly do you do for the government?”
I let out a deep breath, trying to decide how much I can tell her. “I solve problems others can’t solve.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I can’t give you much more than that,” I reply honestly.
The corners of her mouth tilt in a partial grin that stirs the feelings I’m trying really hard to ignore. “Why? Because then you’d have to kill me?” Her words are echoes of the action movies we’d watch together back before everything fell apart.
“Never,” I repeat without hesitation. “I would never hurt you.”
Even though you ripped out my heart and stomped on it, you’re still safe with me.
Her smile falters. “Why do you want to help me? Why are you so interested in making sure I’m safe?”
“It’s my turn,” I say, not exactly wanting to get into the fact that, even after all this time, and the fact that she chose to leave me all those years ago, there’s not a single thing I wouldn’t do to protect her.
“Why did you pick my boat? Any one of them would likely have had medical supplies on board, and mine is docked toward the end of the marina. It would have been a long, painful walk on an injured leg.”
Her expression darkens, and she crosses her arms. “I knew you would have what I needed because you always made sure you had emergency supplies whenever you went out on the boat.”
“It’s been nearly two decades. For all you know, I could have abandoned the boat.”
“You would never do that,” she retorts. “Because you love it.”
“We don’t always get to keep the things we love.”
Her gaze leaves me momentarily, but I never let mine stray from her face.
“Look, I don’t know why you’re so curious about what happened.”
“Because someone tried to kill you.”
“Key word: tried. I have no intention of letting them get another chance.” She takes a staggered step toward the door, and I fight the urge to reach out and help her. Since I know she’ll withdraw, though, I fist my hands at my sides and follow her out of the room and down the hall.
There’s a massive hole in the floor that she moves around with ease. It was here the last time I was, too, only her dad had placed a piece of wood over the top of it to keep from falling when he was too drunk to pay attention.
She pauses just outside his bedroom door, takes a deep breath, then shoves it open to move inside.
I’ve only been in here once since he passed, but as I step through the doorway, it’s as though I’m stepping back eighteen years.
Everything is dust-covered, but it’s the same.
Right down to the dirty laundry off to one side and the empty beer bottles scattered on the floor and bed.
I try not to pay any attention to the dark urine stain on the mattress or the haphazard way the blankets are strewn about.
Tessa lived in this nightmare every day.
And from the way it sounds, she’s still living one. It’s different, sure, but still a nightmare.
Tessa walks over toward the closet and reaches up, stretching up onto the toes of her uninjured leg and feeling the shelf. Because she’s going to hurt herself, I move around her and reach up with ease, retrieving the shoebox she was reaching for.