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“She always threatened that she’d torch the place,” I whispered, staring at the lighter. “How did she find me?”
I slumped to my knees next to Zack as the nausea intensified. “Zack, I can’t do this. Not again.”
He pulled me into him, the warmth of his body shielding me from the chill drifting over me. I felt a tear roll down my cheek, but I pushed it away. I wouldn’t give Carmella the gratification of seeing me cry again.
I’d vowed that even when I took the stand as a witness, I wouldn’t cry.
“You’re going to be okay.”
“So, she’s here?” I murmured as his arms let me go.
“I…” He shook his head. “It’s hard to believe that she could possibly get here this fast or be this…”
“Stupid?” I asked, my brows arching.
“Yeah.”
I clutched myself, crossing my arms over my chest and gripping my shoulders as if that would provide the shield I needed.
Glancing around my nearly empty bedroom that I’d called home for several months made me sad. This was my sacred place—a place where I’d finally found some healing.
And this woman wanted to take that away from me.
Zack stood and walked over to the window, running his finger along the sill. “They didn’t use the front door.”
I wasn’t sure if that made me feel better or worse.
“I don’t think this was Carmella.” He turned to gauge my reaction, but all I could do was stare straight ahead.
“There’s something I haven’t mentioned,” I said softly, not meeting Zack’s gaze.
Zack walked to the attached bathroom and kneeled at the vanity, opening both doors to reveal nothing.
He turned slowly and nodded. “Now’s probably the time to tell me anything and everything.”
I laughed softly, seeing his lip curl slightly.
“I was worried I wouldn’t hear that again,” he said, walking over to me, still kneeling by the pile.
“What?” I asked, shaking my head.
“Your beautiful laughter.”
I tilted my head slightly at the gorgeous man before me and wondered why I had given it all up.
It was easy to point the finger at him with my therapist. I could always explain away the night terrors or the flashbacks in the middle of a grocery store because, as my therapist put it, I could never escape the ties to that traumatic event when my rescuer was always there to remind me.
And it wasn’t his fault.
The man was built to be a protector.
At over six feet tall, he was lean and muscular, disciplined, devoted…
But he shouldn’t have to play the hero in his personal relationships.
He knelt and brushed away a stray piece of hair from my cheek. “What haven’t you told me?”
“Over the last few weeks, I’ve felt like I’m being watched.” My eyes met his, and I caught a flicker of anger whizz through his gaze.
