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“How many?” he shouted.
Fear went through me because I knew his voice had been loud enough to wake Min or Leah or both. I tried to say Zach’s name, but his hold on my throat was too tight. Several long seconds passed and when neither Min nor Leah came knocking on the door, I was both relieved and terrified. Relieved because it meant the girls had likely decided to go to Leah’s place for the night and terrified because that meant I was completely at Zach’s mercy.
And right now, the man above me was not Zach.
Not my Zach, anyway.
He was the war-hardened soldier I’d spent many sleepless nights worrying about in the years since he’d left to serve his country one more time.
“Mac! Teller! Report!” Zach jerked his head to the right as if expecting to see someone standing there. It was further proof of what I’d already suspected.
“Zach,” I tried to choke out, but I couldn’t get his entire name out.
To my surprise, Zach lifted his arm just a little. My body instinctively sucked in every ounce of oxygen it could.
“How many?” Zach repeated, his voice deadly. “I won’t ask you again.”
“Zach,” I managed to whisper. Tears filled my eyes because the effort just to say his name made my throat burn. But I knew my voice was my only chance at the moment… it was the only way to get Zach to see me and not whatever enemy his brain was trying to convince him was lying beneath him.
“Zach, please…”
Zach was straddling my body and holding one of my arms down with his free hand. I felt his fingers loosen just a tiny bit. I seized the moment and said, “It’s me, Lucky. We’re—we’re friends. Your brother, Jake, knows my dads. You came here to make sure… to make sure I’m safe.”
I wasn’t sure if it was the last part of my statement or the mention of his brother that seemed to finally penetrate. The weight on my throat eased even more.
“Lucky?” Zach grated, his voice sounding as messed up as my own. His confusion was palpable. I took a risk and reached up to stroke his stubbled cheek.
“It’s me,” I assured him. “You’re okay. We’re both okay.”
“Lucky?” Zach repeated. His confusion quickly turned to disbelief, then horror. “No!” he shouted, then he was scrambling off of me. I sucked in as much air as I could, but my body refused my commands to sit up. I could only lie there helplessly as Zach kept backing up in the small room until his back hit the wall. I couldn’t make out his features, but I didn’t have to. Between the way he kept repeating my name over and over and his arms lifting to hold his head as if it were too heavy for his own body, I knew exactly what he was going through.
His horror gave me the strength I needed to move. I rolled off the bed, nearly hitting the floor in the process, but managed to catch myself.
“You’re okay, Zach. We’re okay.”
Zach began shaking his head. I’d never seen him, or anyone for that matter, so distressed. I stumbled to him, not sure I’d actually reach him without falling flat on my face. To my surprise, his hands shot out to wrap around my waist right before I went down.
His body was shaking violently, no doubt from the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. I threw caution to the wind and put my arms around his neck. “It’s okay, just take deep breaths for me.” When Zach ignored my order, I repeated it and then pulled back enough so he could watch me taking the same breaths with him. The vulnerability in his eyes as he tried to calm his breathing made my heart break into a million pieces. I pulled him against me and began whispering nonsense into his ear, mostly just to reassure him we were both okay. I could feel my own strength returning even as Zach’s seemed to fade. His grip on my waist was tight as his warm breath washed over my collarbone.
“Do you remember that night I tried to teach you how to ski?” I asked. “And you broke my ski.”
Zach didn’t respond at first, but the more I talked about the night I’d well and truly fallen for him, the slower his breathing became and his hold on me eased enough so it no longer felt like he was hanging on to me like I was his lifeline. I talked for a good five minutes about anything and everything related to that night because every moment of it was etched into my brain.
“You broke your own ski,” Zach softly interrupted just before I was about to launch into another nonsensical round of conversation.
“You stepped on the tip with yours,” I reminded him.
