Judy’s words were still reverberating through her head.  Nobody had put a gun in her mouth.  He wouldn’t have done that because it would have blocked out her screams.  That’s what he’d wanted.  He’d wanted her to cry, and moan, and scream so that Evie would hear her and do anything he asked.  If she had been stronger, she would never have done that. She should have stayed strong.  But the pain…

“Chloe?  Cupcake?  Can you hear me?”

Zarek was sitting on the sofa, and her foot was in his lap.  When had that happened?

Absently she noted that her heel was bandaged, and now she saw that he was stroking her foot, caressing it.  Shouldn’t that feel good?  Shouldn’t she feel something?

“Ah Baby, you’re out of it, aren’t you?”

“I guess so,” she admitted softly.  She’d been gone a long time.  When she’d woken up in the hospital, it had been like there was some kind of barrier all around her.  She’d liked it.  She didn’t feel pain, she didn’t cry and she certainly didn’t scream.  Those few times when she felt some emotion start to come close to the surface, like when she spoke to Evie, she would grab the bedsheet and wrap it tight around her, like a cocoon, and it would block out reality.  By the time she left the hospital, it was like the sheet was inside her head, blocking everything out, but right now she was having trouble blocking out Zarek. 

He continued to rub her foot, when she looked at him, she saw concern, but he was smiling too.  That was odd.

“Do you have a question?”

He’d always been able to read her, but she was surprised that there was any expression for him to take note of.

“You’re smiling,” she noted.

“Of course I am.  I get a chance to be up and personal with your pretty feet.”

What was he talking about?

“Hasn’t any man told you that you have sexy feet?”

She tried to pull away from him, but he did something with his thumb to the arch of her foot.  Her toes curled, and a sharp sensation knifed through her body.  She didn’t want to feel anything!  Certainly not something that felt good.  Numb.  She wanted numb.  Numb was safe.  She jerked her feet out of his lap. 

Zarek sighed.  Her eyes darted up to his then back down to her lap.  He was watching her, as if she was some bug under a microscope to analyze.

“Stop looking at me.”  Was that her voice sounding so desperate?  She swallowed, and tried again.  “Don’t you have something else to do?” she asked in a monotone.

“I’ll start a fire.  You’re cold.”  He got up from the couch.  She could have sworn he muttered something about having to go naked. 

“Did you say something?”

He looked over his shoulder and gave her a bland look.  “Nothing.”  He crouched before the hearth and started the fire.

It seemed odd that a firefighter would actually be setting a fire.  She remembered back to when he’d been twelve and he’d first said that was what he wanted to be when he grew up.  She never doubted that he would do it.  She hadn’t known what she wanted to be, but one teacher convinced her to believe in herself.  Mrs. Pearsall had taken her aside in fourth grade and told her that she was special.  Back then, she was the only person who had ever believed in her.  Her.  Just her.  Not her and Zoe.  Not one of the Avery twins.

Just me.

She’d be pretty disappointed in her now.

“You’re thinking pretty hard over there.”

She saw that the fire was going.  She kept losing time.  “I’m not thinking.”

“Whatever.”  Eyes too knowing roved over her face.  She turned away to look at the back of the couch, then flinched when she heard a knock.  She twisted around to look at the door.  Zarek saw the look on her face, and came down and sat next to her on the couch.  He whispered his finger down the side of her face.

“What’s wrong Cupcake?”

He started calling her that when he was twenty and she was fifteen.  He’d seen her steal Zoe’s cupcake and eat it.  She’d liked the nickname then.  Now it was making her uncomfortable.  A second knock on the door made her whole body jerk.

“Chloe, what is it?  What’s wrong?”

Chloe wanted to cry.  To die.  How humiliating that a simple knock on the door was so horrifying.  The bad men at the cabin had knocked on the door.  They’d said they were lost.  Lacy had answered the door. 

“Make the knocking stop,” she pleaded.

When Zarek made a move to get up off the couch she grabbed his arm.  “Be careful.”

“Are you scared?”

She shook her head.

“It’s just the people delivering the food.  But I’ll make sure it’s them.  I won’t open the door until I check, okay?”

She gripped his forearm, the muscle was like steel.  He could protect her.  Couldn’t he?  Slowly she nodded her head.  He brushed a kiss across her hair.

She watched every step he took and shuddered in relief when he looked through the peephole.  He looked over his shoulder and gave her a thumbs-up.  Even better, he didn’t let the man into the room, Zarek just signed something and took the tray from him, then closed and locked the door.  Chloe knew the door was locked, because she watched him do it.

“Honey, I cooked!” he said in a sing-song voice.  Zarek walked over and kneed the ottoman over in front of her so he could set down the tray of food.  

Zarek saw Chloe staring at it. 

“You liked the pineapple smoothie.  You’ll like this too,” Zarek smiled.

She felt overwhelmed at the sight of all the food.  He was asking too much of her. 

“You need to eat.”

“I’m really not that hungry,” Chloe told him as she looked at the food then back at Zarek who was now sitting ctoss-legged on the other side of the ottoman.

“I was afraid you would say that, so I provided incentive.  They didn’t have any cupcakes, but they did have chocolate cake.  I got ice cream to go with it.  You can start with dessert.  At this point I don’t care what you eat, just as long as you eat something.”  He gave her that Zarek charming smile, but it wasn’t working.  Even looking at food that should be appealing, wasn’t.

“Chloe,” his voice was deeper.  “You’ve lost weight, you had trouble walking up the stairs to get here.  You have the strength of a baby bird.  Is that the woman you want to be?”

He picked up a fork and grasped her hand and wrapped it around the utensil.  “Are you going to eat, or do you want me to feed you?”

She went to cut off a piece of cake and saw her hand tremble.  She tried to stop it, but she couldn’t.  He was right, she was weak. 

“Let me help you,” he said gently.

“I can do it myself,” she snapped.

Dammit, where had that come from?  She didn’t want to let him get under her skin.  That meant that she was feeling something.  Feeling something was bad.  She took a deep breath.  “I mean, I’m fine, just give me a moment.” 

He eyed her, then nodded.  She took a bite of the cake, then grimaced.  It was too rich.  She continued to chew then swallowed.  Oh God, was she going to throw up?  Then it was like Zarek read her mind, because he handed her a frosty glass.

“It’s Seven-Up.  It’ll settle your stomach.”

She took a big gulp.  Then set down the glass and covered her mouth.  She let out a belch, and she felt her face get red.

“Chloe, you can’t be embarrassed, that was the most ladylike burp in the history of mankind.”  She turned away to look at the back of the couch.  It wasn’t the burp, it was the fact that she was upset that she was weak, and now she was embarrassed.  Zarek was making her feel.  She wasn’t supposed do feel.  She closed her eyes, and saw black, but tried to imagine the white of the sheet.

“Chloe, talk to me.” 

Her stomach growled.

“You’re hungry, that’s good.  Please eat something, if not for yourself, then for my peace of mind.  You’re killing me.”

White, she needed to find the numbness of white.

“Chloe, you need to eat.” He was no longer cajoling or tempting.  Now he sounded like a man used to being obeyed.  All of it was grating on her last nerve.  She tried to tune him out.

“Cupcake―”

“Don’t tell me what to do!  I haven’t seen you in two years, you don’t get to barge in and try to take over,” she yelled the words into the back of the sofa.

“If you’re mad at me, you’re going to have to look at me.” 

His tone was reasonable.  It turned up the heat of her temper.

“No I don’t.  See, quit bossing me around!”  She whipped around to glare at him.  “Zarek Andrew Post you are an asshole!  You don’t understand a goddamn thing.  You can’t waltz in here and think you know what’s best for me.  I know what I need.  I need to be left alone.”

“Being left alone isn’t cutting it.  You need counseling.  You need help.”

“If I needed help, you’d be the last fucking person on earth I’d run to, you turned your back on all of us lowly Tennessee types years ago.” 

Oh God, was she crying?  She was.  She swiped at her eyes so she could see him clearly.  He just sat there and took what she was dishing out. 

“Are you done yet?”

She was breathing so hard, and her head hurt.  If it weren’t for those two things she could have gone on for hours.

“Can’t you see this won’t work.  Let me go back to my house.  You’ve done your charity work.  I’m all squeaky clean, I’ll open the windows and clean the house.  You can go back to your high-class life in Dallas and be the mighty fireman.  I’m all better now.  Are you happy?”

“I’m happy that you’re yelling and seem a little more like my Chloe, but hearing that you think I’ve abandoned you for some exciting life in the city hurts.”

“Well didn’t you?”

***

Zarek watched her with a practiced eye.  Her breathing was shallow, the pulse in her neck was going twice as fast as it should, and beads of perspiration dotted her forehead.  He needed to get her to calm down.  He needed a diversion.

“How’s Drake?  You told me about the big reunion, it was pretty dramatic, but how’s he doing now?”

She looked at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Seriously, we’re in the middle of a fight and you’re asking about my big brother?”

“If I suggested you calm down, I figured you might hit me.  You’re not in the correct head space to listen to why I moved to Dallas, so that was out.”

“What do you mean I’m not in the correct headspace?  My headspace is fine!” she shouted.

“I rest my case,” he said keeping a straight face.  “So how is Drake.  I remember you had a lot of dreams built up about him.  You and your sisters, thought he could walk on water.”

She scowled at him.  “You know he was special.  Think about all the money he sent to us.  It wasn’t his fault that he was forced to leave Tennessee and join the military when he was eighteen.  He was framed.  He did more for me and my sisters than anybody could have ever asked.”

“That’s what I mean, you had him built on a pedestal.  What was it like when he came home in February.  Did he live up to your expectations?”

A dreamy expression crossed Chloe’s face, then it tightened and he knew she was thinking about her shitty parents who were both now in prison.

“Concentrate on Drake, Chloe.”

She blew out a breath.

“I fucking hate my parents.”

“There’s a lot of that going around.  But you and your siblings are something else.  Knowing where you came from, the mountain you had to climb, makes it all the more amazing.”

“Drake fell in love with a kindergarten teacher.  It took him less than a week to sweep her off her feet.  That’s how Trenda tells it.  Evie says that Karen swept Drake of his feet.”

Zarek snorted.  “Does it really matter who does the sweeping?”

“I’m just glad that Drake is getting his happily-ever-after.  As long as the baby is okay.  The doctors say that if she stays on bed rest, everything should be fine.”

“They’re planning the wedding for six weeks after she gives birth, right?”

“They were planning it for her eighth month.  Can you believe that Drake thought that would be romantic?!  Karen was having a fit.  She says that is the only good thing that is coming out of the forced bedrest.  Now she won’t have to wear a maternity wedding dress.”

Zarek chuckled softly.  He was happy to note that Chloe’s pulse had slowed and her breathing was back to normal.

“The ice cream’s melted,” he observed.

She looked down at the bowls filled with liquid vanilla cream. 

“Did the soda settle your stomach?  Can you eat a little something?”

“I’ll try.”  She picked up the sandwich and opened it up.  She grimaced and pulled out the tomato.  This time he laughed.  If she was still a picky wench, there was definitely hope.  But he knew they were still deep in the woods, and this would be a long road.

After depositing the offending vegetable on the plate, she took a small bite and chewed slowly.

“Quit putting me under a microscope and eat your damn sandwich,” she scowled at him.

Grinning, he picked up her discarded tomato and added it to his club sandwich and took a healthy bite.  It was good, and he had finished half of his by the time she had finished three small bites.

“More Seven-Up?”

She took the proffered glass, and drank.  “I don’t think I’m going to be able to finish much more than this.  What’s more, I can’t deal with the cake,” she said on a yawn.  “I’m tired.  Let’s choose rooms.”

“Chloe, how many hours a day have you been sleeping?” 

“I don’t know, maybe two naps a day.”

“How many hours total?”

“It depends, maybe sixteen.”

Just another sign of depression.  “Can you try not to take a nap?” he coaxed.

He watched her eyes droop.  “I’m really tired,” she said quietly.  “Did you pack my sweats?”

“Shit, I left the bags in the truck.  I’ll be back in a minute.  Will you be all right while I’m gone?”

She nodded sleepily.  He gave her a sharp glance, but she seemed so tired, that he felt he could leave her for the five minutes it would take to go to the truck.

“I’ll be right back.”