Chapter 10
Tessa
“I would have torn him apart.” Zane’s words have been on repeat in my mind ever since he headed down the steps to shower.
It’s all I can think about.
His reaction is exactly why I couldn’t stay. My dad was always going to be trouble for us. No matter what. Had Zane and I actually gotten married? There’s not a single doubt in my mind that he would have made our lives miserable.
But, man, how I’d wanted to walk down that aisle.
When things got bad over the last eighteen years, which was more times than not, I’d imagine that I had. I’d imagine Zane lifting my veil, of him leaning forward and capturing my lips as man and wife. And for a moment—one brief, blissful moment, I’d been happy.
And then reality set in, and I’d remember that I lost everything that ever mattered to me.
My gaze drifts back to the door where Zane disappeared fifteen minutes ago. Why didn’t he ever settle down?
Masculine voices outside rip my attention from the door and plunge me back into the present. My heart begins to beat faster as flashes of last night assault my mind.
Did they find us?
Are they here for me?
When the voices grow closer, my heart rate increases. I push to my feet and grab a steak knife from the drawer to the right of the stove. Heavy bootsteps thud just outside the door, and two large shadows pass by the curtained window.
I tuck myself into the corner.
Zane is down in the shower, completely unaware of what’s happening up here. I could scream, could yell for help, and he’d come running. I’d rather die than have anything happen to him. So, heart in my throat, I remain as still as I can…and wait.
You can do this, Tessa. You can fight.
The door opens, and two men I don’t recognize stroll in. One has a gun holstered to his hip, the other a large knife on his.
Adrenaline surges through my system, and I charge out, blade raised. The pain in my leg is barely registerable as the fight in me surges to the surface and blocks out everything else.
The one closest to me ducks, and the man behind him shoves me back and pins me against the wall as he rips the blade from my hand. “We’re not here to hurt you,” he says softly. His brown eyes are kind as he looks at me, and just as quickly as he disarmed me, he releases me and takes a step back.
“Speak for yourself, Demo,” the man I attacked says as he straightens and brushes both hands over the front of his shirt. “She swings another blade at me, and I’ll throw her overboard. I hope you can swim,” he adds.
The man he called Demo chuckles softly and strolls over toward the bench seat where I’d been playing solitaire. He’s just sitting down when Weston and Ryker walk in.
Four large men. All of them dwarfing the small cabin.
I stay where I am, closest to the door, my heart hammering as panic claws at my throat. Large men. Large hands. I know Weston won’t hurt me. And Ryker hasn’t been anything but kind, but the trauma response doesn’t get it.
And my fight or flight is currently weighted heavily toward flight. “What is happening?” I ask, doing what I can to keep my voice steady as I consider how long it would take for me to reach the door.
Could I get out before anyone could stop me?
“Girls’ night,” Weston says, his southern accent lacking all humor.
“Yeah, we’re going to braid each other’s hair,” the man I attacked quips.
The door to Zane’s room opens, and he steps out wearing jeans, a dark t-shirt, and boots. His hair is wet, and the cut on the side of his face has been freshly bandaged. Just seeing him eases my panic, and my racing heart begins to slow.
He’d never let anything happen to me.
And he wouldn’t keep company with people who would hurt someone.
“You guys are early,” he says.
“Yeah, and your girlfriend tried to take a few inches off the top.” The man I’d attacked gestures toward his hair, then the steak knife on the counter.
Zane looks from it to me, then back to him. “You should have knocked,” he says simply.
“Never have before,” he replies.
“I’m not here alone anymore.”
The man grins.
“We’re sorry that we didn’t knock,” the guy who’d disarmed me says with a soft smile. “It was rude, especially knowing what you’ve got going on.”
“Thanks.”
“You okay?” Zane asks.
Our gazes hold, and the same heat that was between us before sparks to life, but this time it’s laced with understanding of just what happens when you light a match amidst a sea of kerosene.
Because that’s what lies between us.
It’s always been there; I was just too foolish to see it.
“Apparently, Zane has lost his manners. I’m Sawyer.” The man who threatened to throw me overboard grins at me, though the smile doesn’t reach his caramel-colored eyes. Tattoos climb up one of his arms, disappearing beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt.
“This here is Garrison. But we call him Demo,” Sawyer introduces the muscled guy beside him. He’s the same one who disarmed me, but he doesn’t say anything in response to the introduction. Just offers me a simple nod.
“Demo?” I arch a brow.
“He likes to blow stuff up.” Sawyer winks and points to Weston. “Of course, from what I hear, you already know Cowboy.”
My gaze lands on Weston, who is still glaring at me. There was a time when I counted him amongst my closest friends, though I recognize that my leaving probably hurt him, too.
“Cowboy?”
“Yeah,” he replies, his tone sharper than a razor blade.
“And this here is Tank.” Sawyer clasps Ryker on the shoulder.
“We’ve met,” he replies.
“That’s right,” Sawyer says. “Because you and Cowboy got to ride into the rescue last night.”
Weston rolls his eyes. “We were together when Cap called,” he says. “It would have taken extra time to grab the two of you. Besides, I called and clued you in.”
“Yeah, after the fact,” Sawyer replies. “Either way, I’m hurt. I considered us close as family.”
The door opens again, and this time, a petite blonde strolls in, carrying three large shopping bags.
“Here, let me help,” Sawyer says and rushes forward to take the bags from her.
I fight my own smile at his eagerness to help, something that isn’t too difficult to do, when the woman turns toward me, and I see that she’s none other than Anastasia Knox.
Zane’s younger sister.
Her smile dies when she sees me, and the momentary joy I’d felt at seeing her again withers in my chest at the way she glares back at me. Of course she’d hate me, too. She and Zane are closer than most siblings. When I left him—I left her, too.
And according to him, he hasn’t told her why.
“I brought you clothes and toiletries.” She points to the bags Sawyer just set on the table.
“Thanks.”
She doesn’t respond, just turns toward Zane. “I’m going to put these down in your room. Come on, Tessa. I’ll show you what I brought, and you can change out of Zane’s baggy clothes.” She grabs the bags and moves past me, toward the door that will take us down into the bedroom area.
I take a step to follow, only to have pain shoot up through my thigh because—once again—I wasn’t paying attention and put too much weight on it. I fall forward, and Zane’s strong arms come around me, holding me up on my feet.
Heat explodes through me, and my heart pounds in response to the contact. As innocent as it is, I can’t help myself.
“Let me help you,” he says, voice little more than a low growl.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not. And the last thing we need is you getting hurt worse.” He wraps one arm around my waist and takes most of my weight as I hop toward the steps.
Anastasia is already inside, and she’s set some clothes on the bed.
“I’ll help her,” she says. “Out, and I’ll call when we need your muscles again.”
Zane grins at her. No matter his mood, Anastasia was always able to bring a smile to his face. Seems like some things really don’t ever change.
Zane releases me, and I take a seat on the edge of the bed. “Thanks, Anastasia,” he says.
“You’re welcome,” she calls out as he closes the door.
Then, she turns to me, though she avoids eye contact like I’m enemy number one.
“Since I didn’t know your sizes, I stuck with leggings and baggy t-shirts.
If you get me your actual sizes, I can get you more fitted clothes.
You look like someone who sticks to jeans. ”
My bottom lip quivers as emotion sears the inside of my throat. Since I can’t trust myself to speak, I nod.
“Do you need help?” It’s just like Anastasia to offer help even when she’s furious with me. It’s just who she is. It never mattered how she was feeling. If someone else needed something, she’d set aside her own issues to make sure they had what they needed.
Just like her brother.
Truthfully, I could use help. Trying to get changed is going to be a nightmare. But I don’t want to ask for her help. Not now. I’d rather deal with the pain. “No. Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” She starts to move past me, then pauses and turns back toward me. “It was an awful thing—what you did to him. If you truly changed your mind, you should have told him. He grieved you, Tessa. And I don’t care what your excuses are; what you did to him was not okay.”
“I know,” I whisper as tears burn in the corners of my eyes.
The truth is, I’ve fought long and hard not to think about what Zane might have felt when I didn’t show up. I’d hoped he would realize that he was better than me. Then find a woman and settle down without the weight of my baggage dragging him down.
I knew that there was no us without a fight, and he deserved so much better than to live in a war zone. Something I knew way too much about to let him shackle himself to me until death do us part. Which, if my dad had his way, would have happened even before we were married.
Anastasia turns and heads up the steps, leaving me alone in a room that smells like the only person who ever truly loved me.
I’ve been doing all I can not to look too closely at his space.
Maybe it’s because I’m avoiding going upstairs or trying to postpone the pain that I’m sure to feel as soon as I try to change my clothes, but I can’t help myself now.
It’s neat, just like his room always was when we were kids.
There’s a framed photo of him, his sister, and both of his parents from back before his dad died.
I move forward to get a closer look at it and a smaller image pinned to the wall beside it. When I lean in enough to see the second photo up close, my heart flutters in my chest.
A young me is wrapped in his arms, staring up at him like he was my entire world. Which, he absolutely was.
Even standing here, jaded as I am, and outside of that moment, I can see the hearts in my eyes.
A tear slips down my cheek, and I reach up to run my fingertips over his smiling face. The pain in my chest isn’t new, but it constricts the very beat of my heart.
I’d loved him.
He’d loved me.
And I’d broken it because I was so afraid that the poison in my veins would taint him, too.
Didn’t I do that anyway?
He’s not at all what I expected him to be. A doctor, living happily with his wife and two perfect kids.
Zane Knox does government work—whatever that means—and lives on his father’s old boat all by himself.
How much of his current situation is because of what I did?
Guilt crushes down on me, and my father’s voice as he’d stood over me, my blood on his fist, echoes through my mind. “You’ll never be good enough for a boy like that. He’s too smart, and you’re just a stupid, worthless girl. He’ll get bored of you and then throw you out like the trash you are.”
The tears come faster now, so I angrily wipe them away, then step in to turn on the shower.
Stupid.
Useless.
I’d reached for the stars with Zane Knox. Went after a crown that glittered like gold. He was my ticket to a better life. My hope for a future where I wouldn’t end up married to a man like my father or become the type of woman my mother was.
But he was more than that. He was my everything. My calm in the midst of a storm.
Then, just like my father said I would, I lost him. Because I couldn’t understand why someone like him would ever love someone like me. And now he’s insisting on helping me. Should I do as I said I would and let him?
Or is his best chance if I leave and never look back?
Zane may have been my calm all those years ago, but I’m still the hurricane that will rip his quiet life apart. And I want no part in destroying what he has. Not even if it means facing down my own death.