Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Cormac
Zara leaned her head against the passenger window, her golden legs stretched in front of her, fingers tapping to the rhythm of the road. The sunlight caught in the fine hairs on her thighs, and I had to drag my eyes back to the highway before they lingered too long.
She didn’t seem to be in the mood to talk, and that was fine by me. After last night, I was stuck in my head. The run had helped burn off some of the edge, but sitting in the truck beside the source of my internal upheaval had brought me right back to where I’d started.
That always seemed to be the case around Zara.
Out of nowhere, she said, “You know, you never told me.”
I raised a brow, glancing from the road to her, trying to read her profile. “Told you what?”
“What you were doing in town last weekend, when you found me making a complete fool of myself in public.”
“Ah. When you were beating up your car.” I drummed my thumbs on the wheel. “I was headed to Sugar Rush.”
She sat up, turning toward me. “But…I’d just come from there.”
“Right…”
“That means you couldn’t have gone there. I would have seen you.”
“I ran into you before I made it,” I explained.
Her mouth parted, and a little puff of air blew out. “Mac”—she huffed, indignant—“I screwed up your plans. You didn’t get to see Phoebe.”
I shrugged off her concern. “Not a big deal. I see her pretty often. Your situation seemed more dire than my need for a muffin. Plus, I ended up with a cookie anyway, so I can’t complain.”
She smacked my arm, but it landed as light as a butterfly. “That’s it. After we get my car, we’re going to Sugar Rush and I’m buying you whatever you want. The whole pastry case is yours. Well, unless there are Danishes…or have your feelings about Danishes changed?”
“They haven’t changed, and that’s not necessary.”
“Yes, it is. You rescued me last weekend, then last night, and you’re doing it again today. I’m going to start feeling pitiful if you don’t let me do something for you.”
Zara’s stubborn streak still ran as strong as it always had. If I tried to deny her, she’d dig her heels in and wind up winning in the long run. Since I was in no mood to argue—especially when I already knew the outcome—I took the path of least resistance.
“All right. We’ll do things your way.”
My sister was a little too thrilled to see Zara and me arriving together. She didn’t know everything. No one did. But she’d been around for the height of our friendship…and had seen the aftermath of the ending. It came as no surprise she would think we were mending fences.
And maybe we were.
Zara ordered damn near one of everything and insisted she’d pay for my coffee. At that, I’d made a lame attempt at arguing, but only because I knew I’d lose and she’d feel good about winning.
Her victorious little dance and smile had made it worth it.
While we waited for our order, Phoebe kept darting glances at us. I couldn’t begin to imagine what she thought she was seeing, but if it was anything other than a hungover woman and a man so emotionally raw it felt like a hangover, she wasn’t seeing us.
With no open tables, we took our drinks and box of pastries out to my truck without much discussion. Zara closed her eyes as she sucked down her latte, and I flipped the box open, claiming the carrot cake muffin I’d been craving for a week.
Zara opened her eyes and turned toward me. “I haven’t been drunk like that since college.”
I pressed my thumb down on my leg, gathering the crumbs I’d dropped. “It’s always fun while it lasts.”
Her mouth curved as her eyes went hazy. “It was a really good night. I’m glad you were there. We haven’t had fun together in a long time.”
“You were having plenty of fun without me.”
“I was. Henrik is a big, lovable oaf. I’m pretty sure it’s impossible not to have fun when he’s there.” Tucking her leg under her, she leaned across the console like she was sharing a secret. “Don’t tell anyone, but he has a crush on Javier. He called him a hot and spicy salt-and-pepper daddy.”
I sputtered a laugh. “Oh, that’s rich. Did he say that to Javier’s face?”
“No, no, no.” She covered her giggle with her hand. “Only to me, which is why you can’t repeat it. Henrik would die, and Javier probably would too.”
I cocked my head. “Maybe he’d like it. You never know.”
“True.” She grinned, and I did too. “You never know that side of people. Javier could be a total daddy.”
I leaned back against my door and folded my arms, considering it. “I see it. I don’t necessarily want to, but I do.”
“Exactly.” She examined the contents of the pastry box, picking out a lemon bar after some consideration. “Closed doors are a great thing.”
I laughed softly. “They are. It’s okay to have some questions unanswered.”
“Sure. I guess that’s true.” There was doubt behind her words, and for a beat, her mouth opened, like she had more to say. Then she closed it, shaking her head, and took a bite of her lemon bar.
“Good?” I asked.
“Mmmhmm.” She wiggled in her seat, a little happy dance of pleasure. The move was so Zara, I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.
“You’re doing your dance.”
She went still and looked down at herself. “I was?”
That made me laugh. “You didn’t notice?”
“Not at all.” Her teeth dug into the bottom curve of her grin. “Leave it to you not to miss anything.”
“Anyone who spends any time with you would notice.” While that was probably true, it was a deflection. There wasn’t much about Zara I didn’t notice and catalog. It was how it had been when we were younger, and I guessed it still was that way.
She hummed softly and changed the subject. “Your grandparents seem like they’re doing really well.”
“They are.” I scrubbed my hand along the scruff I hadn’t bothered shaving this morning. “As far as I’m concerned, they’re immortal.”
She flinched, and I felt like an asshole. I’d never known anyone else as close to their grandparents besides Zara. I got that flinch. Felt it deep in my chest.
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” she said softly.
“I try not to think about the alternative.”
The Past…
Zara’s name lit up my phone for the second time. I looked around, searching through the throngs of people for a place I’d be able to hear her. Finally, I set down my beer and headed outside. By the time I’d found somewhere, the call had dropped, so I dialed her back.
“Maccie,” she gasped.
My heart stilled. “Your mom?”
“No. My-my-my grandma’s dead.”
“Shit.” I fell back on the porch step, wishing like hell I was more sober. “Oh god, Zara. I’m so sorry.”
“She wasn’t sick. I don’t know—how, Maccie? How can she just be gone? My mom needs her. God, how’s my mom going to deal!”
My head was spinning. I hadn’t even wanted to come to this party. It had been Tim’s idea. I should have been home and sober, so I could think clearly, but he’d made the point that I’d done that all freshman year and needed to live a little this year, and I’d let myself be convinced.
Zara cried and cried, and my heart broke. There was nothing I could do. She needed a hug. Why wasn’t someone holding her? Where was Zane? Her dad?
Without warning, the door to the house opened, and a few bodies spilled out. Someone yelled my name. Elbows and knees bumped into me. I nearly lost my grip on the phone.
“Where are you?” Zara asked, her voice wobbly.
“Nowhere important. I want to talk to you.”
“Maccie!” Tim called from the side yard. “Get your pretty cowboy ass over here. Kayla misses you.”
I groaned. “Look, I’m going to—”
“No, I’m sorry for calling so late. Of course you’re busy. It’s fine. I need to go be with my mom anyway.”
“I’m here, Zara,” I rushed out. “Talk to me.”
“I have to go. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”
And she was gone before I could say anything else.
Both of us went quiet. Any minute, I expected her to climb out of my truck and get into her car, but she stayed, looking out the window, sipping her coffee. Having nowhere to be, I let myself relax as best I could.
Zara’s breath got stuck in her throat, and she sat up straight, her brow furrowed as she studied me.
“You okay?”
“Yes.” She nodded a few times. “I need to ask you something.”
“All right. Ask me anything you want.” I might not have liked the question, but if she wanted answers, I’d give them to her.
“While I agree it’s best to leave some questions unanswered, I can’t let this one go. Last night, you said you never hated me. Not once.”
“That’s true.”
She looked down at her hands clenched in her lap, her shoulders rising as she sucked in a deep breath. When she let it out, she raised her head, pinning her dark eyes on me, accusation and hurt swirling in them.
“Then why did you try to talk Jackson out of marrying me the night before our wedding?”
For a second, I didn’t understand.
The words hit my ears, but my brain refused to process them.
I stared at her, certain I’d misheard.
“I—” My throat closed, and I swallowed, but it didn’t help. “What?”
How could she know about that night?