Chapter Eight
CHAPTER EIGHT
Zarah
I know I sound like a toddler, our conversation skipping from one touchy subject to the next, especially compared to last night. I was able to hold my own with Stella, Zane, and Tate, and Zane even complimented me on the way home, saying I was sounding better. I’m proud of that because I’m working hard to fight all the drugs. It’s mentally exhausting, but Jerricka says it’s good for me and it will get easier.
I wish it was easier now. I’m nervous around Gage. I like him, and I want him to like me, too.
The dogs are having so much fun chasing each other around the trees. Sometimes they double back, tearing through the snow-covered grass near the house, then racing through the woods.
Gage is steady by my side, helping me over forest debris even though I don’t need it. Maybe he likes touching me. I would like that.
I want to ask him to kiss me...I want to know what it feels like to kiss someone who makes my heart beat faster. Max and I kissed, exploring. He tried to go slow, but sometimes it would still be too much. I hadn’t been out of Quiet Meadows long, and I was on a lot more drugs than I am now.
Spending time with Gage does funny things to my insides, and if I tried to explain it to Stella, she’d say it’s attraction. Gage is handsome, and my fingers itch to touch him. Arousal is why people who don’t love each other have sex.
I can’t tell if Gage feels the things I feel. Probably not. He has the woman who works at the café. She doesn’t have the issues I have.
“I suppose we should head back soon,” he says. “We’ve been out over an hour.”
“Okay.” My chance is slipping away. “You have to be strong for your job,” I say, turning on the trail that will lead us back to the house.
“It comes in handy.”
I can’t tiptoe around what I want him to do. People can’t read my mind and I need to use my words. “Can you pick me up? Will you kiss me?”
He frowns and stares, searching my face.
“Will you pick me up? Because I’m short.”
“I can pick you up, Zarah, without the kissing.”
“Then why would you pick me up?”
“Why do you want me to kiss you?”
“I want to know how it feels to kiss someone who makes me feel squishy inside.”
He blows out a breath. “You tell me if you want me to stop, okay? I do not want you scared of me. I mean it. You never have to do anything with me that you don’t want to do.”
I feel safe, and I trust him. “Okay.”
He scoops me up, one hand under my knees, the other behind my back. My stomach dips a little, in a good way, and I let out a squeak, laughing. The movement brings me closer to his face, and I drink in the slash of dark eyebrows, his strong nose, full lips. His scruff covers a chiseled jaw. I don’t see any of Max in his features, and for a reason I can’t explain, I find comfort in that.
He lowers his head, and I hold my breath. So lightly I can barely feel it, he presses his lips to mine. Tentatively, I wrap my arms around his neck, and as he moves his lips, I sink into the kiss. A whimper climbs out of my throat, and I hang on tight.
We kiss in the middle of the woods, Gage holding me against his solid chest, his lips nuzzling mine, and I never want this to stop.
But it does, and he lifts his head. “Zarah, what are we doing?”
Falling in love.
It’s right there on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t say it. I don’t know what love is, and I certainly don’t know how it feels. My body reacts to Gage’s. It’s chemistry, not love, and I don’t want to have sex without love. I might not be able to anyway. I couldn’t let Max touch me.
I don’t feel the panic I did with Max, but we have all of our clothes on and a light peck in the middle of the woods is different than Max crawling into my bed, sliding his hand under my nightgown, and wanting to touch me between my legs. I never told anyone he tried having sex with me. I’m too ashamed I couldn’t let him.
Instead of answering, I lean up and push my lips against his. He holds still, letting me explore. I poke out the tip of my tongue, and he opens his mouth. Our tongues tangle together, and I sigh.
Gage was right. This is romantic.
Zane’s words come back to me. If Gage and I get close, he’ll want sex. When that happens, I’ll have to decide if I want to try. The thought scares me, and I pull away.
“Too fast?” he asks.
“Maybe.”
He rubs the tip of his nose over mine. “It’s your call. Every time. Do you want me to put you down?”
I giggle. “No.”
“You got it.”
He carries me through the woods, and I kiss his stubbly cheek. “Thank you.”
“I’m starting to like you, Zarah. That way. I don’t want to scare you or pressure you, but it’s how I feel and you should know.”
His words shoot off sparks in my heart. “Then we can see each other again?”
“Whenever you want.” He sets me to my feet.
It’s been years since I’ve been this happy. I grin and run across the yard, the dogs gleefully chasing me. I look over my shoulder to see if he’s following me, but he’s only standing there, staring.
The squishy feeling comes back, but this time, I let it stay.
Dinner is cheerful, and starving, I dig into my meal.
Lucille is thrilled to have another mouth to feed, and Ingrid joins us. After a year, she feels more like a friend than a paid nurse, and off the clock, she sips a glass of wine.
Stella and I like sparkling water, and Zane and Gage drink beer.
I ask Stella to tell Gage the story of how Richard Denton called in a bomb threat at Quiet Meadows and she snuck into my room. I love hearing it, but Zane doesn’t.
Gage can see it on Zane’s face, and he slightly changes the subject. “Has the FBI finished their investigation of Quiet Meadows?”
Sitting at the head of the table, Zane braces his elbows on the table and folds his hands together. “No. They’re still looking into the treatment of the one hundred plus patients, but it seems every client had a tailored program that depended on why they were admitted. Medical records appear to be in order. I’m not surprised, but a lot of families were hoping to sue for malpractice. Zarah was the only one mistreated, and that’s only because Ash wanted to keep her quiet. She didn’t need to be there at all.”
A silence falls over the table until Gage says, “One of their patients died a few days ago. She was Zarah’s age and had been a client there for several years. My father and I were hired to look into her death, and we talked to the medical examiner. All the drugs wore out her heart, and she went into cardiac arrest.”
“I understand your concern. Zarah’s had two very thorough exams since I brought her home. She’s completely healthy, physically, and I know how lucky we are,” Zane says.
Gage nods, and his frown smooths out.
He’s worried about me, and my soul hums.
Ingrid doesn’t stay to eat dessert, excusing herself to go to bed, and Zane and Stella chat about her parents’ visit. I’m happy she found her family, but I miss Mom and Dad.
Their conversation fades, and Lucille serves plates of chocolate cheesecake. Gage looks content, leaning back in his chair and petting Sansa. For his visit, Lucille set the table in the formal dining room. The kitchen table is large enough to seat us and we usually eat with Lucille and Douglas. This is a nice change, a little sliver of what life used to be like before Clayton killed our parents.
Stella coughs. “Zane, we should go upstairs.”
Zane frowns. “Why—”
Stella lifts her eyebrows.
“Oh. Right.”
Lucille clears our plates, and Stella kisses her cheek. “Goodnight, Lucille. Thank you for dinner.”
She smiles. “You’re welcome, doll. Goodnight.”
Zane stands and holds out his hand to Gage who shakes it firmly. “Have a safe drive back into the city, and thank you for coming. We’ll have to do it again sometime.”
“I’d like that.”
They step into the hallway, both dressed too casually to sit in the dining room, but I think they did that on purpose so I wouldn’t have to change my clothes and Gage would fit in. He’s wearing jeans and a black flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Tattoos cover every inch of skin. I want to trace my fingers over the ink, but I don’t dare.
I don’t want him to leave yet and ask, “Do you want to stay a little longer? We can have coffee in the living room.”
“Sure. That’d be great.”
I show him to a large den located at the rear of the house. I chose the carpet, furniture, and watercolors hanging on the walls and it’s my favorite room. The couches are dark grey and soft. When you sit, you sink into them like the cushions are going to swallow you whole.
Wiping my damp palms over my jeans, I say, “I’ll run to the kitchen quick. I can call Lucille over the intercom, but we hardly use it. I’ll be right back.”
I hurry to the kitchen, and Lucille helps me put together a tray. She uses the espresso machine and adds homemade whipped cream to the café mochas. They’re almost too much after the rich cheesecake we ate for dessert, and I hope Gage doesn’t mind.
Lucille holds the swinging door open. “I like him. Polite,” she says.
Carefully, I carry the tray. She would have, but I want to serve Gage myself. “He’s nice,” I agree.
“I’m going to my cottage. Do you need anything else?”
“No, I’m fine, thanks. Zane and Stella stay up later. I can call them if I need something.”
“Okay. Goodnight, Zarah.”
“Night.”
I’m eager to get back to the den, and Gage is where I left him, the dogs napping in front of the crackling flames in the fireplace.
“Let me help you,” he says when he sees me. He relieves me of the tray and places it on the coffee table. “I was looking at all the pictures.” He points to a snapshot sitting on one of the bookshelves of Mom and Dad dressed for a night out. Lucille must have taken it. “Is this your mom?”
I stand next to him. “Yes.”
“You get your coloring from her.”
“Yeah. She’s half Armenian. Zane takes after our father’s side.”
“She was very beautiful.”
“Yes, she was, and she was kind. She cared about everything and everyone. Stella reminds me of her. Compassionate. She knows there’s more to life than money.”
“I like her. She’s smart. Brave. The shit she went through...the stories are incredible.”
“She did it for love,” I say softly, brushing my finger over the frame’s glass. I think I was ten or so when this picture was taken. By then my parents had been together for almost twenty years, and my father was looking at her like she was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“So did you. Zane’s having a tough time with what happened,” he says.
“Dad and Clayton were best friends, and Zane believed in their friendship. He believed in Ash’s friendship, too, and I don’t blame him for that. Other things, maybe, but not that. Ash told me he had information that would destroy our company and hurt Zane, but I didn’t know he was lying. I only wanted to protect my brother.”
Gage holds my hand and leads me to the couch. The whipped cream is starting to melt into the mochas.
“You did. Ash took Stella, and he locked you away. You and Stella kept Zane safe for five years. You’re brave, too.”
“Sometimes I don’t feel brave.” I meet his eyes. “Are you here because Max asked you to be?”
He brushes his thumb over my cheek, and I lean into his touch. “No. I’m here because I want to be.”
“Okay.” I snuggle into his side and rest my head on his chest. His heart beats steady under my ear, and his shirt smells like dog and fabric softener.
“Do you remember your time at Quiet Meadows?” he asks, wrapping his arm around me.
“I have dreams, nightmares , I’m in a basement. I have sticky things on my temples and chest, and my head hurts. They’re asking me questions and when I don’t know the answers, they’re happy, but when I do, they get mad.”
“Who’s ‘they?’”
“Doctors, I guess. They wear white lab coats and hold tablets.”
“What else?” Gage asks, and it’s difficult to answer. I’ve been trying not to think about my time there.
“Ash visited a lot. He’d tell me if I didn’t keep my mouth shut, he’d kill Zane and I wouldn’t have anybody left. My mouth wouldn’t work, and all I could do is scream. Sometimes he would tell me Zane hated me and he was the one who put me in there. I was scared of him for a long time. I didn’t know what was real and what was a lie.” I burrow against him and he kisses the top of my head.
“I’m sorry. That was a difficult time for you, and I shouldn’t have asked.” He moves his hand in soothing circles over my back.
“It’s okay. I have to get used to talking about it. It helps me remember the truth.”
“And what’s the truth?”
“That Zane loves me, and Stella’s okay, and I’m dirty and deserve what I got.” I press my lips together. I didn’t mean to say that, but when I think about Quiet Meadows, when I think about the drugs, the words are never far away.
“You’re not dirty, Zarah. Black gave you no choice, and what those men did to you wasn’t your fault.”
“How will any man want to touch me now?” I cry and scramble away from him. My hideous thoughts twist into each other. The violence. The hotel rooms. Ash’s ugly words. My time at Quiet Meadows.
“Because he’ll love you, Zarah. Like Max. He loved you, didn’t he? You’re tired. Let’s get you to bed. Will you show me your room?”
I nod. All I want is to go to sleep.
Leaving our coffees untouched on the table, I walk with him upstairs to my bedroom. In the bathroom, I change into my pajamas, and Gage waits, leaning against the wall while I brush my teeth and wash my makeup off. He pulls down the bedspread and sheet, and I climb into bed.
He sits on the edge of the mattress and brushes the hair away from my face. “I’m sorry I brought up bad memories. I never want to hurt you.”
“Help me make new ones,” I plead. I’m desperate to replace the pain with something good.
“I promise.”
He smooths his fingers through my hair until I fall asleep. I didn’t think he would stay, but I’m disappointed he’s gone when I wake up, even though Zane would have freaked out if Gage had spent the night.
I don’t have anywhere to go, but I still shower and put on my makeup. I look through my closet for something to wear, and out of the corner of my eye, I catch my notebook laying on my desk. Jerricka’s stupid list. But it’s not the same list I showed Gage at the café. No, a masculine print has filled in every line.
Before he left, Gage wrote ten reasons why a man would want me and none of them are sex or money.
I rub at the skin over my heart.
Gage kissed me in the woods, and he knows what Ash made me do.
Maybe I’m not as dirty as I think I am.