Chapter Nineteen
Cormac
Jackson was an even bigger piece of shit than I’d previously believed. Since I’d considered him the lowest of the low, that was saying something.
Zara talked and talked, spilling everything that had gone on with his company.
Reading between the lines, he’d brought her on to provide cover for the underhanded practices he and his brothers were getting up to.
It didn’t surprise me she’d left both him and the company as soon as she discovered what they were doing.
If nothing else, Zara had always been honest.
But it killed me the man who’d been supposed to love and honor her had put her in this position. She’d done nothing wrong, was trying to move on and start fresh, and had a PI wanting to come here and meet with her.
That wasn’t going to happen.
By the time she finished telling me everything, she was more incensed than freaked out, which was something, I guessed.
We were face to face. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were shining—not with tears but deep wells of anger. And she had every right to be pissed off. Hell, I was angry for her and hated that Jackson was still rearing his ugly head from a thousand miles away.
My fingers twitched from the desire to reach out and gather her in my arms. I held on to the edge of the counter instead, though it did nothing to abate the desire to comfort her. It seemed that was something that was never going to go away.
“You want to sit down? Take a break for a minute?”
“No.” She flipped her hair away from her face and took a deep, steadying breath. “No, I’m fine, Maccie. I promised you dinner, so that’s what we’re going to do.”
Then she gave me a light shove. “Get out of here. You’re distracting me.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m distracting you—not the phone call from the PI?”
She waved me off. “That was ten minutes ago. You’re my current obstacle.”
I held up both hands. “I’m only standing here, being handsome.”
That got me another shove. A laugh too. I liked both. For a moment, it felt like old times, when things were easy and uncomplicated.
“And it’s distracting,” she said. “Go away.”
I went, but the house was so small I couldn’t go far. I took a seat at the table right outside the open kitchen and watched Zara plate up our dinner. It took everything in me not to jump up and help her bring the plates to the table, but the razor-sharp look she shot me helped keep me in my seat.
She carried the plates over a minute later, chin tipped high, like she was waiting for me to comment.
I didn’t dare.
She set the plate in front of me, and steam swirled up, catching in the soft overhead light. Pasta twisted with ribbons of zucchini and yellow squash, bright pops of cherry tomatoes, flecks of parsley. It smelled like garlic and butter and something citrusy.
It smelled like summer. The best memories of my life—and they all featured her.
Zara slid into the chair across from mine. “If it doesn’t taste as good as it should, please keep it to yourself.”
“I’m sure it’s great, and I’m hungry enough it doesn’t matter.”
We both took our first bite at the same time. I didn’t mean to close my eyes, but I did.
“Why are you making that face?”
I swallowed and looked at her. “Because it tastes exactly like your mom’s.”
Her expression changed instantly, the sharp edges dulling. “It does not.” But her mouth rose in victory.
“It does.” I twirled another bite, studying it like it held proof. “There’s lemon in here, right?”
Zara blinked at me. “Only a little.”
“Yeah.” I nodded once. “She made it the exact same way.”
For a second, we were little kids again. Sitting at her family’s kitchen table during one of the times we visited them in Oregon. Our moms chiding us for “eating like wolves.” Zara kicking me under the table for taking the last piece of bread.
My chest tightened. There was no place in my memories Zara hadn’t touched.
She smiled, softer now. “You always liked it.”
“Still do.”
Silence settled between us, but it wasn’t heavy. Not at first. Just the quiet of forks against ceramic and the hum of the fridge behind her.
I shouldn’t have accepted her invitation tonight.
I shouldn’t have been sitting at her table, eating her food, laughing like we hadn’t detonated our friendship years ago—like I hadn’t spent half my life wanting something I couldn’t have.
I knew what this was doing to me.
Every minute across from her was a step backward. A reminder of what it felt like to belong in her orbit. To be the one who made her laugh. The one she confided in. The one she looked at like that.
I told myself I could handle it. I was grown now. I could sit across from Zara and not fall straight into the same hopeless place I’d been at sixteen and eighteen and twenty.
But the truth was, my feelings for her weren’t any smaller.
They hadn’t faded. If anything, they’d sharpened with time.
Cutting away the dreaminess of childhood until all that was left was the crux.
The blunt reality of desire and wanting.
Of a friendship that would always be more… but only for one of us.
She tucked her hair behind her ear, unaware of the war happening across from her. “You’re being quiet.”
“Just eating.”
“You’re thinking,” she corrected.
I huffed a breath. “I’m always thinking.”
“I should hope so, but that’s not what I meant.”
Of course it wasn’t.
Her gaze swept over me, curious and open. There was none of the heaviness I carried, and I was glad for that. I would hate for Zara to feel the way I did.
But I wasn’t going to dive into any of this. Not now. Not ever. Quite frankly, thinking about it over and over and over was exhausting.
“Are you going to talk to the PI?”
She put her fork down and wiped her mouth with her napkin. “I don’t know. I don’t want him to come here. Sugar Brush is mine. I’d hate anything having to do with Jackson to touch it. Maybe talking to him on the phone will keep him away.”
“Do you have any information to share with him?”
“I can tell him what I told you, but I don’t know how helpful that will be. As soon as I discovered what was going on, Jackson removed my access to every company account. I have a few things saved on my laptop, but nothing damning as far as I can tell.”
I nodded. “If you do decide to speak to him, let me know. I’d like to be there when it happens.”
Her brow crinkled. “Why?”
“This isn’t something you should have to deal with on your own. If you were back home in Oregon, I really doubt your dad or brother would allow that.”
“You’re right. If my dad knew a PI was calling me, he’d flip, so chances are, I wouldn’t tell him.”
I let out a curt laugh. “Luckily, you don’t have to decide whether to tell me. I was here, and I’m all in.”
She tossed her napkin on the table, slumping in her seat. “Here we are again, huh? I seem to always be the damsel in distress, and you ride in like my knight in shining armor.”
I flinched at her acerbic tone. “That isn’t how I see things, but if you don’t want my help, I won’t give it.”
“No, wait.” She shot forward, resting her hand over mine. “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re great. The best, really. I just hate myself for putting you in the position to come to my rescue. For once in our lives, it would be nice if we were on an even playing field.”
“I’ve known you since we were babies, Zara. My first memory of you is when I was four or five. You had a purple bow that did nothing to hold back your hair, and you were filthy, muddy from hunting morels with your grandpa.”
Her fingers curled over mine. “Were you visiting us?”
“Yeah. You came bursting out of the woods when we were unloading our rental car. You ran so fast and were so excited to see me, you knocked me down on my butt. I wasn’t so sure about you, but by the end of our visit, I was a Zara convert.
My mom said she had to pry us apart when it was time for us to leave.
I don’t remember that. It’s the purple bow, mud, and tackle crisp in my mind. ”
“I bet our parents have pictures.”
“I bet they do.” I flipped my hand over so I could hold hers. “Point is, we’ve known each other forever. I’m no knight, and you’re no damsel. We’re lifelong friends who’ve gone through tough times. Both of us, whether you know it or not.”
Her chest rose as she inhaled. “I wish we hadn’t stopped talking.”
“That’s as much my fault as yours.”
She nodded, rubbing her lips together. “We should have had a conversation like this a long time ago.”
“I don’t know if we were capable.”
“Right.” Her shoulders curled forward. “I was so damn sad, Mac. I didn’t make the right choices because of that. Marrying Jackson aside, my biggest mistake was letting our friendship go without putting up a fight.”
I ran my thumb across her knuckles. The skin on the top of her hand was even softer than it looked, but her palm was calloused, rougher in some spots than others, from climbing and riding and adventuring.
“I should have replied to your texts.”
“Yes. You should have.” Her fingers threaded through mine, holding on tight. “I get why you didn’t.”
They were still there, on my phone. When Hannah’s house almost burned down a few years ago. When Phoebe was injured. After Hannah had her first baby. When Phoebe got married. Zara checked in on me. On my family.
Zara: Maccie…my parents told me what happened to Hannah. Is there anything I can do? For her? For you? Please, tell me. I’m thinking of you guys.
And:
Zara: Please tell me Phoebe’s okay. I can only imagine how terrified you all must have been. Are you okay, Maccie? If that were Zane…oh, you must have been so scared. If you need to talk, I’m here. No questions asked. Spill it all to me.
And:
Zara: You’re an uncle again! I saw the pictures. Silas is the cutest! My mom showed me a picture of you holding him. You look so happy, Maccie. Just beside yourself. I really hope you’re happy. I mean that.
And:
Zara: I wish I could have come to Phoebe’s wedding.
I hear there wasn’t a single dry eye in the house.
She deserves the best. I’d say I hope Deke is good to her, but who am I kidding?
You Kellys wouldn’t have let him get near her if he wasn’t.
I know you won’t reply, but I wanted you to know I’m thinking of you and happy for your family.
And:
Zara: Hey, Maccie. Good news: I’m engaged!
Jackson and I are getting married. Can you believe it?
I never thought I’d get married this young, but he asked, and who am I to say no?
Kidding! I’m excited. Maybe you’ll be happy for me?
Maybe you’ll come to the wedding? I wish you would.
I miss your face, even after all this time.
You know, you could reply. It would be great if you did.
And finally:
Zara: If you had told me back when I was 15 there would be a day you and I would walk right past each other without exchanging a word, I would have laughed.
But it happened today, at my wedding. We’re not friends anymore, huh?
I’m stupid for thinking there was a chance after all the silence.
Message received, Cormac. Loud and clear.
I’d typed and deleted a thousand responses. I’d sent none. Nothing I could’ve said would have been right or honest enough for me.
So I’d let it die. It hadn’t been easy, but it was the best I could do back then.
“I’ll text you back this time. When you go, if you send me a message, I’ll reply.”
The corners of her mouth lifted. “Good. I’d really like it if you did. We can’t be muddy kids anymore, but we can remember what it was like when we were.”
I cocked my head, doing nothing to hold back my smile. “I don’t know. I think you could borrow a bow from Hannah. Though…I’m not sure you could tackle me to the ground anymore.”
She gasped. “Are you kidding me? I could take you down in a heartbeat. I might be short, but I’m strong, and your center of gravity is way too high.”
That got me laughing. “All right. If you want to believe that, you can.”
“We can go outside right now, Cormac Kelly. I’ll prove it.”
My shoulders shook at her fierce expression. She meant it. Hell, she probably would knock me right off my feet. I wouldn’t put anything past this woman.
“I’m good,” I choked out. “I concede.”
When it came to Zara, there was not a chance I would win.
I was finally learning to accept that.