Beneath the Scars (29 page)

My head snapped up at the sound of the door opening. When Zachary appeared in the kitchen, I shut the door to the dishwasher and turned to face him. I expected anger and confusion on his face. I expected him to start yelling or to close in on himself, but all I saw was sorrow. His eyes were resigned, his shoulders slumped as we stared at each other.

He was composed—too composed. “You’re leaving.”

I stepped forward. “Karen shouldn’t have said anything.”

“She probably thought you told me.” There was no doubt I was hearing some hurt in his voice.

“I only decided this afternoon when I spoke with her. I was going to tell you.” I smiled, trying to get him to understand. “You, ah, had me pretty busy before she arrived.”

A glimmer of a smile appeared on his mouth, but then he shook his head and frowned. “Why, Megan? Why are you going back there?”

I stepped closer until we were almost touching. “I’m not leaving you, Zachary.”

He started to speak, but I cut him off.

“I’m not leaving you,” I stated clearly. I needed him to understand.

“What are you doing, then?”

“I have to go back and meet with Jared. Then I’ll be back. ”

His composure disappeared. “What? Why the fuck would you want to do that?”

“I have to put this behind me.”

“Fine. I’ll give you the money for a lawyer and they can fight it for you. Hire experts to prove he is lying.”

“I’m not fighting it. I’m walking away.”

“You can’t do that. You have other options.”

My eyes narrowed. “No, I don’t have other options. I can and I am. It’s my decision.”

“He stole your work.”

“Yes, he did, and without me accepting his payout or recanting my story, he might not get it published.” I shrugged. “We both lose.”

“Fight it! I’ll give you the money! I have plenty!”

“I don’t want your money!” Weeks of pent up anger exploded, and suddenly I was yelling. “It’s a lost cause, Zachary! He has the book—my notes—even my fucking ideas about the cover! He has it all! I worked for him! Slept with him! Do you know how this all looks to people?” I paused, dragging in a deep breath. “His story is airtight!
He
told
me
about the book.
He
showed
me
the chapters. He even managed to show a date line! He’s an established, successful author. I’m the ex-girlfriend who’s doing this because she’s bitter about the breakup and wants to make a name for herself, since she’s trying to become a writer.” I sat down on the chair in front of him, tired. “There’s nothing to fight. It’s done.” I looked up at him. “I’m only going to finish it. Please understand.”

He kneeled in front of me, cupping my face. “I hate the bastard.”

“I’m not so fond of him myself. I can’t take your money, Zachary.”

He nodded in understanding. “I don’t want you to go.”

I wrapped my hand around his, stroking the hardened flesh tenderly. “I have to. I’ll only be gone a few days.”

“You’ll come back?”

I nodded. “I’ll bring a few more things with me.”

“Megan”—he hesitated—“does your decision not to fight this have anything to do with me?”

I closed my eyes and nodded. “I’d already made up my mind for the most part, but it factored into my final decision. I won’t risk your privacy.”

His fast intake of air and the way his hands tightened on my skin made me open my eyes. “I hate you’re giving up because of me.”

“I’m not giving up. I’m moving on. Don’t ask me to change my mind, and don’t be angry with me, please.”

“Anger isn’t what I’m feeling right now.”

I searched his face. “What is?”

His mouth hovered over mine. “Love. Only love, Megan.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I inhaled the clean ocean air. I would miss the smell, even if it was only for a few days. My small bag was packed and I was ready to go, even though I really didn’t want to. I wanted to let Bill handle it, tell Jared I refused his “generous” offer, and stay here with Zachary.

I had to confront him myself, though. I wanted to see the look on his face when he realized he wasn’t getting his way, and I wouldn’t be bullied. I didn’t care what happened with the book now—if it got published or not was irrelevant at this point. I was going to move ahead, in Cliff’s Edge with Zachary. Together, we’d find our own path and when I was ready, I would try writing again. More than once, Zachary had hinted at me staying close to him. He had reminded me Ashley hired staff in the busy summer months at the gallery and the hours were flexible, which would leave lots of writing time. Karen told me I could stay here at her beach house as long as I needed. My lease was up on my apartment in the fall, and the thought of living here was a far more pleasant one than staying on in Boston. It would be a fresh start. Dixie loved it here, too.

Her excited little bark made me turn my head to see Zachary and Elliott coming toward us. Dixie turned in frantic little circles of excitement as they came closer. I giggled as I realized, if I could, I would do the same thing when I saw Zachary. He was almost larger than life, striding toward me, his overcoat billowing out behind him, stretched taut across his broad shoulders. My stomach did strange little flip flops every time I saw him. The longing to feel his arms around me grew with every step he took closer, and a small sigh of pent up emotion escaped my lips when I was wrapped up in his embrace.

“Ready to go?” he asked, his voice rough.

I tightened my arms around his waist. “It’s only a few days. I’ll come back as quick as I can.”

“I know.” His lips nuzzled my hair. “You’re sure about Dixie?”

I tilted my head back. “Yes. I’m staying at Karen’s and I’ll be busy. If she’s here with you, she’ll be happier and I won’t worry.”

“And you’ll come back.”

I tamped down my frustration at his words. He still couldn’t accept I’d come back anyway. I reminded myself he needed time. The longer I was with him, the more comfortable he would become, and he would accept this was real. We were real. I kept my voice patient. “I
am
coming back, Zachary. Even if I took Dixie with me, I’d come back. I’m coming back for you. For us.”

His mouth covered mine, his kiss hard and desperate. He surrounded me, molding my body to his as he wrapped us both in his coat, seeking the reassurance my touch would give him. Slowly, the kiss morphed into a tender, gentle one of farewell, and he released me with a quiet exhale of air.

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

I swallowed back the unexpected sting of tears. I didn’t want to leave either.

“Hey.”

I looked up at him, his expression one of surprise. “Don’t cry, Megan.” He wiped away a small tear under my eye. “I’ll be right here, waiting. Hurry back to me.”

I wanted to ask him to come with me, but I knew that wasn’t possible. So, I nodded and forced a smile. “I know.”

We were quiet as I slid into the car. Zachary kneeled beside the open door. “Drive safe. Call me when you get there.”

“I will.”

He dropped a kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering, his expression forlorn. “I’ll miss you.”

He shut my door, and without a backward glance, walked away. I knew he was fighting his emotions, and all his doubts were messing with his head. He still didn’t believe he mattered enough. I wasn’t sure he even understood what that meant. So accustomed to rejection and being used, his insecurities crippled him. The cold, indifferent face he showed to the world was a far cry from the unsure, caring soul he kept hidden.

I knew I had to be patient. I hoped with time he would realize it. Once enough time passed and his trust grew, he would know how much he meant to me. His first instinct wouldn’t be one of distrust and worry, but rather the assurance that came with the acceptance of love. My love for him. One day we’d get there—together.

His tormented, worried eyes haunted me the whole drive back to the city.

I wished for Zachary’s presence beside me as I faced Jared in the boardroom at his lawyer’s office. Both Bill and I would have preferred the meeting elsewhere, but in the end, we had agreed to meet here. I hardly slept last night and hadn’t been able to even look at breakfast, my stomach was so tied in knots. We were kept waiting, which only increased my anxiety, and more than once, I realized I was tugging on my ears, trying to remain calm. I caught my reflection in the mirrored tile on one wall and grimaced at how bright pink the right lobe had become.

Jared’s arrogant stance and nasty attitude were even more obvious than the last time I had seen him as he strode into the room, a smug look on his face. He was sure I was coming to sign his offer and disappear, so he could move ahead with his plans. When Bill informed him I would not be accepting the deal and refused to withdraw my claims the book was mine, he became angrier, addressing me directly, even as his lawyer tried to override him.

“Take the damn money and sign, Megan,” Jared hissed through clenched teeth.

“No.” I shook my head, refusing to back down or show him fear. “I’m not taking your payout. I can’t fight you, but I’m not going to let you take my work.”

“It’s mine. We both know that!”

“It doesn’t matter how often you say it. It will never be the truth. I’m not signing.”

He slammed his hand down on the table, the water jug and glasses shaking with the force of his action. An ugly sneer marred his face—the face I now knew to be his real one. What I ever saw in him, I couldn’t remember now. “Your inane declarations are tiresome. My publishers don’t like any of this bullshit. They may not publish the book with this hanging over it.”

“Good. It’s not your book to publish.”

His eyes narrowed. “It is.”

I glared back at him. “Well, we’re never going to agree on that fact.”

“I want my book published.”

“Then finish writing your
other
book, Jared. You can’t have mine. I don’t want your money.”

He glared at me. “What do you want, then?”

“For you to give me my book back.”

He shook his head, contemplating me with a knowing jeer. “I can quote ninety percent of this book to you right now, Megan. Can you do that? Since, as you say, it’s yours.”

“Of course not,” I snapped. “I wrote most of it two years ago and you made changes. You can quote it because you memorized the damn thing as you copied it. It proves nothing.”

He shook his head again, an evil smirk twisting his lips. “It proves it’s mine.”

Bill spoke up. “I think we’re done here. Ms. Greene isn’t signing.”

I shook my head as Jared let out a string of muffled curses.

Leaning forward, I scowled at him. “Stop harassing my friends. Leave me alone. I’m moving on with my life.”

“Oh?” He snarled. “Anything you want to share?”

I stood up. “No. I made the mistake of sharing with you once. I won’t do it again.”

Pivoting on my heel, I walked to the door, gasping when Jared’s hand closed around my bicep. “You’ll regret this, Megan,” he warned in my ear. “You’re fucking me up and I’m gonna return the favor.”