Two days later, Zoe gazed at a sleeping Willa, still unable to believe that she was here – in Denver, in this hospital, in this bed. She was supposed to be safe and sound and happy, wandering the sun-kissed, golden deserts of New Mexico with Jimmy, on her dream trip. Or painting the bedroom wall in their new place. But instead she was here, and she was beaten up, starved, dehydrated, and…
Zoe’s eyes drifted to Willa’s right hand. To what wasn’t there anymore. She winced, and flexed her own fingers, then took Willa’s left hand gingerly, not wanting to wake her up. God, what Willa had been through…
She had always known that Gil was a monster, of course. But this was beyond what she’d ever thought him capable of. It was light-years beyond what she’d thought anyone capable of.
Fucking animal, taking an innocent woman’s finger to send me a repulsive message… one that I didn’t even get in the end because Arrow picked up the box, not me.
And then he’d blown up her place of work, and it seemed that his aim was to hurt as many people as possible, maybe kill a number. All to – what? Get Keira back? Was his plan to sneak into Zoe’s office through the storage room, knock her out, take Keira, then set off what the cops now knew was a homemade explosive? Hopefully kill Zoe, her staff, her customers, and bonus points for totally destroying the place that had given Zoe a job, and a second chance at life?
If that was the plan, then what had gone wrong in the end? Why had he detonated the bomb with Zoe outside the building? And the bigger mystery: how had Gil ended up on the floor of the storage room, unconscious and maybe even dead before the fire got to him? Keira had been left alone to perish in that back room, which surely had not been Gil’s intention. According to Willa, this whole thing had been about getting Keira, and the two of them disappearing to start a new life somewhere far, far away from Colorado.
So, had the bomb been on a timer, and did it maybe go off early? Did Gil set it off by accident? Or did he look at Keira and change his mind at the last minute, suddenly become afraid that he’d spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder for the police, and he’d decided to do a whole murder-suicide thing, and just cross his fingers that people would be hurt, or worse?
Zoe had been perplexed by the fact that the front windows had been blown out, but somehow Gil and Keira had both survived the bomb blast. The one cop had told Wolf that it looked like the bomb had been placed in Zoe’s office with the door to the main work area left open – and Gil and Keira had been around the corner in the storage room. It was one of the scenarios being floated around – but it wasn’t yet definitive.
So many questions; so few answers. And none would be coming from Gil. The coroner had just confirmed that the body on the floor in the storage room was indeed his. Zoe had guessed that, naturally, but still. Now it was official.
He was dead and gone, and his secrets had gone with him. But he was never coming back to hurt Keira, not ever again.
The cops were investigating, of course, but Zoe didn’t think they’d find out much more than they already knew. Oh, they’d find the warehouse where Willa had been held, no doubt, and they’d get some sense of Gil’s movements by tracking his cell phone records and credit cards. But Zoe knew that he’d been watching her, and Keira, and Maria, and Scars, and Wolf, and the parlor. That was all she needed to know – she wasn’t even remotely interested in exact dates and times. What she knew was enough to freeze her blood.
He knew where I lived… he knew where Keira slept. What the hell else do I need to know? That’s enough to give me nightmares for years to come, thank you very much.
Willa moaned now, turned her head, and Zoe gently squeezed her hand a bit. She wanted Willa to know that she wasn’t alone. Her friend’s beautiful blue eyes opened slowly, and a puzzled look crossed Willa’s face as she looked around the room.
“Hey,” Zoe said. “It’s me. You’re OK. You’re safe.”
Willa stared at her, then remembered everything in a rush. She took a shaky breath. “How long was I out?”
“Since we last talked, you mean?” Zoe stroked her friend’s tumbled red hair off her pale cheeks, avoiding Willa’s black eye and bruising. “About five hours. It’s going on dinner time now.”
“Did you stay here the whole time?”
“No. I went to quickly check on Keira… and Scars.”
“Has he woken up yet?”
“No, hon, not really.” Zoe tried to keep her tone light, unconcerned about the fact that the man that she loved had been out cold for close to forty-three hours. Like she wasn’t a damn heaving mess of internal worry, like she wasn’t mentally in the fetal position and shrieking in panic and fear. “He comes to for a few seconds, then drops off again. I don’t think he’s seeing or understanding anything. The painkillers are strong enough to take out a T-rex.”
“Damn, Zoe. I’m sorry.” Willa shifted on the bed, wincing as the nasty bruises on her back twinged. “And Keira?”
“She’s good. Much better. They took the tube out an hour ago, and she’s breathing just fine on her own now.”
“Who’s with her?” Willa asked. “Maria?”
“Yeah. It’s OK, Willa. She’s OK.” Zoe smiled. “Maria’s not going anywhere, believe me, not until she gets kicked out by some burly security guard types, and even then, I’m not sure she’d go. Between me and her and the guys, we’ve got Keira covered every minute of the day and night, believe me.”
“Thank God.” Willa sighed. “Jimmy?”
“He landed an hour ago, and Wolf told me that Holt will pick him up from the airport. And of course, you guys are both staying at my place.”
“Ohhh.” Willa’s eyes filled with tears. “God, Zoe… I can’t wait to see him. He’s spent the past two months thinking that I’d dumped him for some hot biker… he must have been so upset.”
“I know, hon.” Zoe said, thinking that as bad as being dumped by text must have been, she was sure that Jimmy wasn’t the one who had been through hell on earth. That dubious honor was reserved for Willa. She hesitated, then opened her mouth again. “Willa?”
Her friend looked up at her, and her blue gaze sharpened. “Don’t you dare.”
“Don’t I dare – what?” Zoe faltered.
“Don’t you dare apologize again.” Willa spoke crisply. “I don’t blame you. Jimmy doesn’t blame you. Wolf and his guys don’t blame you. Scars won’t, when he comes to and can put a sentence together, and Keira never will, because you rescued her from that disgusting man almost as soon as she was born. The only person blaming you, Zoe, is you. So just cut it out, before it eats you up inside, and I mean, right the hell now.”
“I… I don’t know if I can do that,” Zoe said quietly. “So much hurt, so much pain, so much damage… and no, I didn’t do it, but I had a hand in it, even an unknowing and oblivious one. He was here because I’m here, because I brought Keira here. I’m not sure if I can ever really look at you again, look at your hand, and not feel totally responsible. You were – you went through so much, hon. I can’t forget that.”
“You don’t have to forget it. I won’t. But it doesn’t have to be the only and first thing that we both think about, does it? Jimmy has already set up appointments for me with a therapist back in Fargo next month. He’s moving me into his house next weekend. He’s going to help me, Zoe, he’s going to love me and be whatever I need. I don’t know what that is right now, but I’ll figure it out.”
Zoe blinked.”You’re so… I don’t know. Sane? Serene?”
“Because I’m here, and I can see the sun shining, and I’m mostly OK. That monster who killed your sister and tried to kill your daughter is dead, and he can’t ever hurt anyone again. Your baby girl is going to be fine. Scars… well.” Willa paused. “From what you’ve told me, his vitals are strong and steady, and the burns aren’t infected. He’s a big, healthy guy, and he’s fighting, I’m sure.”
“I hope so.”
“So, beat yourself up if you want to, OK? Feel terrible and responsible forever. Go ahead. And watch every relationship that you care about just shrivel up and die, Zoe, because they will. I won’t put up with you telling me what happened to me is your fault – I just won’t, so don’t try to make me. I love you, you’re incredibly important to me, but I won’t cater to your self-abuse and bullshit.”
“Wow. Ummm.” Zoe didn’t quite know where to look. “You’re so – fierce.”
“And you’re not!” Willa told her. “You’re sitting around telling everyone how sorry you are, over and over. And we’ve told you to stop that, over and over. Your refusal to do so is just wallowing in your own self-pity now, and that is not the Zoe that I know. The Zoe that I know would be fierce and furious. Instead, you’re all weepy and weak. Stop. It. Now. If it were my kid that Gil had come after, or Wolf’s kid, or Scars’ kid, and you’d gotten hurt somehow, you’d never hold it against us. You’d tell us that assholes are gonna asshole, and you’d order us to stop holding ourselves responsible for the sick actions of a pathetic dickhead. So – do that, Zoe. Do it now.”
“Jesus, Willa. Tell me what you really think.”
“There she is!” Willa beamed. “Back in smart-ass mode is a good sign.”
Zoe laughed, and was amazed at how good that felt. “OK, OK. Point made, you bossy bitch.”
“Awesome.”
Just then, Willa’s doctor entered, and the women looked up at her.
“Hey,” Willa said. “Can I get out of here?”
“Plotting your escape, huh?” Doctor Locke said wryly. “Well, you’re in luck, because you get to go home tomorrow afternoon.”
“Yeah?” Willa said. “For real?”
“For real. Your finger has healed up incredibly well, and your body can heal just as well on a sofa in front of the TV as it can here. So long as you’re never left alone, just because you need help moving around, you’re free to run as fast as those legs can carry you.”
“It’s snail-speed, but I don’t care,” Willa said. “My boyfriend just flew in, and he won’t let me out of his sight, believe me.”
“Good man.” Doctor Locke smiled. “So… eat a good meal tonight and tomorrow morning, and if you can do that, I’ll sign off on your release.”
“Deal!”
“Perfect timing,” Doctor Locke said as the food cart stopped outside the room. “ And it smells like chicken with potatoes and mushy peas! Yum.”
“Argh.” Willa sank back onto her pillows. “Mushy peas. Why did it have to be mushy peas?”
“It’s always mushy peas,” Doctor Locke said cheerfully. “We’re not very creative around here.”
“Bah,” Willa huffed. “But if eating them gets my butt out of here tomorrow, I’ll choke them down.”
“Do you mind if I go check on Keira?” Zoe asked her as the nurse brought the tray over. “And on Scars?”
“Go.” Willa waved her left hand, the hand holding the fork. She was right-handed, and Zoe knew that she’d struggle a bit with feeding herself wrong-handed until the bandage came off. “You don’t need to see mushy peas all down my face as I miss my mouth more than I hit it, believe me.”
“Sooo true.” Zoe gave her a kiss on the top of her head. “Mushy bananas dripping off a one-year-old are bad enough, God knows.”
“Welcome back, you snarky bitch,” Willa said happily. “Took your time getting here, but you’re definitely here now.”
**
Wolf was sitting in Scars’ room reading a text from Kansas (who was standing in the police station getting an update from the cop assigned to the Blue Dragon case), when a long, low groan came from the bed. Scars had been making sounds of pain for the past two days, of course, but this one sounded different. More aware.
Quickly, Wolf pocketed his phone, leaned over the bed. “Scars? Hey man, you there?”
“What the actual fuck?” Scars grated out and Wolf grinned. As the first words uttered after a resurrection, he’d take them. “Wolf?”
“Yeah.” He leaned down farther to meet Scars’ fuzzy gaze, then gently grasped his Vice-President’s arm when he tried to turn over to face Wolf better. “Stay on your stomach, man. You’re attached to an IV and your back is – injured.”
Those blue eyes blinked, sharpened, focused, and suddenly, it was Scars Innis looking up at him. Fully present and alert. And worried.
“Keira?” Scars said, his voice rough. “Zoe? The guys? The parlor?”
Wolf grabbed the glass of water on the bedside table. He adjusted the straw, extended the drink to Scars, who drank it down slowly.
“Tell me,” Scars said, his voice stronger, clearer. “Tell me everything.”
“You got it.” Wolf sat down again, moved the chair closer so Scars could see his face. “First, Keira is fine. Really OK. You got her out, man. Minimal damage.”
“Burned?” Scars was terrified that that sweet little girl was going to have to go through life carrying the marks forever. “Scarred?”
“No. Some trouble breathing from smoke inhalation, but she’s doin’ good now. Nothin’ permanent. She can probably go home in two or three days.”
“Thank Christ. Zoe?”
“Not sleepin’ and barely eatin’ but she’s game. Been in and out of here about ninety times a day to check on you. You’ve been out for two days, and she’s gettin’ fed up with your unconscious man routine.”
Scars cracked a tiny smile. “Anyone else hurt?”
“Wait up… I need to go get Zee.” Wolf stood up. “She needs to know you’re awake. And I need to tell the doc, he was just here toppin’ up your pain meds, so I know he’s around…”
“No!” Scars’ whole body jumped with the vehemence of that single word, and he moaned in pain. “No… Wolf. No.”
“Hey, hey.” Wolf was alarmed. “OK, alright. Stay calm. No movin’.”
“I won’t move if you don’t go get Zoe.”
“But – she needs to know. She’s been goin’ out of her mind with worry.”
“Not yet. Please. Look, like you said, I have enough painkillers, so I’m not in any pain, right? And I need to know some stuff.”
“Ohhh-kaaaay.” Wolf’s unshaven face crinkled in confusion, but he respected his brother’s wishes and sat again. Right away, Scars visibly relaxed. “Ummm. What did you want to know?”
“The guys? Are they all OK? And the parlor?”
“Oh, yeah. A few burns on Saint’s arms, but that’s it. And as for the parlor, what fuckin’ parlor? Gone, man. Burned to the ground, pretty much. We have to tear it down and start again from scratch.”
“How the hell did this happen, Wolf? Was it an accident?” Scars’ blue eyes widened as memory started to return all of a sudden, like the sun breaking through a thick haze of gray. “Wait, wait… there was a voice. A man’s voice. He – he was talking to Keira, and we were running back to the parlor, and then the explosion… he did this. He did, right? The guy in Zoe’s office.”
“Yeah.”
“Who the hell was he?”
“Gil Purdie. Keira’s Dad.”
Scars did a double-take. “The guy who killed Zoe’s sister? The guy on the run in Mexico?”
“One and the same.”
“And… wait.” Something else was swimming on the edges of Scars’ memory now. “There was… there was a guy. In the back room, on the floor. That was him? Gil?”
“Yep. The police are still figurin’ it out, but it looks like he had some kind of homemade explosive that went wrong somehow. Maybe he set it off early, maybe it was faulty. They’ll have answers in a few weeks, probably. But seein’ as the guy is dead, it ain’t really a major priority, since nobody’s on the run or anythin’ like that.”
“Was he dead when I grabbed Keira and walked away from him? When I left him in the fire?”
Wolf studied his friend. “You really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“No. He was still alive.”
“So…” Scars closed his eyes. “So… he died later. After I ran.”
“The coroner said from what she could see from the state of his lungs, he died of smoke inhalation.”
“Right.”
“How you feelin’ about that?”
“About what, exactly?” Scars opened his eyes again, and Wolf saw pure steel. “About choosing an innocent baby and myself over a murderer? About leaving him there to choke to death on the fire and smoke of his own creation? About making him pay fair and square for his actions? About basically killing him by choosing not to help him?”
“Yeah.”
“I feel fine about it, Wolf. I feel good. I can look at myself in the mirror, and I won’t be losing sleep.”
“Yeah. I can tell.”
“So. Anything else?”
Wolf hesitated, decided not to say anything about Willa right now. That could wait, it was a lot of information, and anyway, Wolf wanted to talk about something else first.
“It’s pretty incredible, but the only person who got hurt bad was you, Innis. You – you must have felt the fire on you as the ceiling came down on your back. Did you? Do you remember?”
“Yeah.” Scars took a deep and steadying breath, winced as the skin on his back pulled. “Tell me how bad it is. No sugar-coating.”
“Subtle ain’t exactly my style,” Wolf said. “I’m lackin’ in that gene, big time.” He sighed a bit, then launched into it:
“You’ve got third-degree burns on your back, and mostly second-degree on the backs of your legs. Your hair was on fire too, but the boys got that out before anythin’ too bad happened. So you got a haircut, and a few scorch marks, and you got a few new scars on your head, but nothin’ too bad on your face.”
“Nothing more than I already have, you mean.” Scars made a feeble joke, though the last thing that he felt like doing was laughing. “Anything else?”
“Yeah. Well…” Wolf paused. “Your head and face are OK, considerin’ everythin’, but your back and legs are a whole different story. You – you went straight into shock right there in the parkin’ lot, and you – you seized in the ambulance.”
“I did what?”
“You went into cardiac arrest. You – your body couldn’t handle it, Scars. Your brother said that extreme burns like the ones on your back do that, pretty often. Burns are like… they’re just so damn hard on the human body. But it’s not like I’m tellin’ you anythin’ that you don’t already know…”
“Sam,” Scars whispered, horrified, suddenly seeing yet another nightmare scenario in full technicolor. “Please tell me that he wasn’t working the E.R. when I was brought in…”
“No. He’d just finished his shift and was in the cafeteria havin’ a coffee and relaxin’. He got the call from the head nurse and by the time he got to you, a team was already workin’ on you, so Sam stepped back and let them get on with it.”
“Is he – how is he?”
“Pissed at you for bein’ a hero and dashin’ into fire yet again, so brace yourself for that conversation, boy.”
Scars laughed, a real laugh this time. “I’ll look forward to it.”
“I bet.” Wolf smiled back. “So… that’s it, really. Can I get Zee now?”
“No. When can I go home?”
Wolf stared. “You – home? Scars… you have weeks and weeks of treatment here before you can go anywhere.”
“The fuck you say.”
“No lie, man.” Wolf was mystified at how the seriousness of his condition had totally escaped Scars; maybe he wasn’t as mentally aware as Wolf had assumed? He broke the bad news as gently as he could now. “You need skin grafts on sixty percent of your back, and on about half the backs of your legs… the wounds are still open under all those bandages, and they’re still healin’.”
“How many rounds of skin grafts?”
“Sam says at least three on your back, to build up the layers right. Your legs… I dunno. Maybe two? I mean – you’re lookin’ at months lyin’ on your front, Scars. Weeks in hospital, gettin’ a graft and then recoverin’ from it and buildin’ up resistance and checkin’ that your body doesn’t reject the new skin, because most of it can’t come from your own body and there’s a risk that you’ll reject donor skin. Then if that’s all OK, then you go into the next graft round and do it all over again. It’s – ” Wolf shook his dark head. “We’re in this for the long haul, man. You’re here to stay, for a while anyway. Well, here or another place that specializes in burns that Sam mentioned, over in California somewhere.”
Reality smacked Scars in the face right about then, suddenly and hard. Even drifting in and out of consciousness, on a blissful wave of morphine for the past forty-eight hours, he’d known that his back was bad – the pain was familiar, after all, and he well remembered what his arms, chest, and face had looked like before the skin grafts. Even all these years later, he remembered it like it was yesterday.
Some things never fade from memory, and when a nightmare comes to life, you don’t shake it. You learn to live with it, maybe, if you’re lucky. You build up emotional calluses, so that your raw, exposed feelings stop constantly rubbing against each other, stop keeping you up at night as your mind spins and whirls.
So, you move on. Mostly. But you don’t develop amnesia.
And if his memory served – which it fucking did – then Scars knew what his back and legs looked like. Even without laying eyes on them, he knew.
And worse, he knew what they were going to look like after months of painful treatment. Even with the wonders of modern medicine, and technological advances since he was nineteen years old, and good doctors, he was still going to be horrible. He’d have thick, raised scar tissue that would start off angry red and violent purple, and would stay that way for years. Oh, it would fade over the decades, of course, maybe turn white, if he was lucky. But still. For a long, long time, he’d still be…
Deformed. Ugly. Repulsive.
“Scars? Hey? You with me?”
With an effort, Scars wrenched his mind back to the conversation they were having. Now, what the hell had they been talking about?
“Uhhh.” He cleared his throat. “There’s a good place in California?”
“Yeah. Sam’s buddy from med school works out there, said that he’d find a bed for you. It’s probably one of the best burn victim centers in the country and it ain’t free, but don’t worry about payin’ for anythin’. The club would cover. I mean, if you want to go out there, but I don’t see why you would. We’re all here. Zoe’s here. Denver has good burn clinics, your brother told me. Right?”
“Damn,” Scars said quietly, not answering the question. “I didn’t realize, I don’t think. This is way worse than the first time.”
“I’m sorry,” Wolf said gruffly. “It’s a shit situation. But you’re here and alive, and you got this. You got us. The club’s takin’ care of everythin’ here with a private room and like I said, we pay for anythin’ and everythin’, from grafts to physical therapy stuff. Me and the boys ain’t leavin’ you here alone, not for one minute, and Zoe will move heaven and earth to be here, every step of the way.”
“That’s what I’m worried about.”
“You’re – what are you worried about?”
“Zoe.”
“Why?” Wolf asked, totally perplexed.
“Because I don’t want her to see me like this, Wolf,” Scars said simply. “I don’t want her to spend the next who-knows-how-many months here, every day, and trying to raise a baby, and get the parlor back up and running. I mean, Christ… we’ve just barely gotten together at last, after a rough start. You think she’ll be able to handle all of this? If she has to shoulder this responsibility so soon after us becoming a couple, she’ll run herself into the ground. Please don’t let her do that to herself.”
“You what?” Wolf gaped at his Vice-President. “OK… look. I am totally aware that you have a death wish, with all your damn runnin’ into burnin’ buildings and cars about to blow up and shit. But you are even more interested in kickin’ off this earth than I thought if you try to tell Zee that she can’t see you and help you. I mean – c’mon, man. Have you met Zoe Parish? You think she’s gonna accept that situation for one goddamn second?”
“She has to.”
“Nope. Wrong. She doesn’t, and she won’t.”
“I don’t and won’t what?”
Wolf leapt out of the chair, turned to see Zoe standing in the doorway. “Zee! Look who’s awake!”
“I see.” She crossed the room, her beautiful face bright with joy and love. “Hey, big guy. How’s my hero doing?”
“Wolf…” Scars said, ignoring her question, not looking at her, and she heard the pleading in his voice. “Please…”
“You have got to be kiddin’ me.” Wolf shook his head, squeezed Zoe’s shoulder as he passed her leaving the room. “I’m out, Innis, totally out. You two sort this out, just you and just between you. And let me say to you guys here and now, I’m tired of bein’ your relationship counsellor… me, of all goddamn people. Jesus. I mean, could you have picked anyone worse?”
“What are you talking about?” Zoe asked him. “Why do we need a relationship counsellor?”
“Nuh-uh, baby girl. I’m out.”
Wolf shut the door behind him, and Zoe looked at Scars, wondering why he didn’t look happier to see her. She sat down in the chair next to Scars’ bed, gently took his hand.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, which was a ludicrous question, but it was the first one that came to her mind. “I mean – clearly, you feel like hell. But – how are you?”
Scars stared at the pillow in front of him.
“Are you in pain?” she said. “Do you need something? Should I get a doctor?”
“No, baby,” he said, and suddenly, it was Scars again, and she almost sagged in relief. “I’m not in pain.”
“OK so…” She stroked his face. “You OK? All things considered?”
“Well. I mean, I’m obviously devastated about the fresh scars ending my promising modeling career,” Scars said. “But I’ll get past it. Somehow.”
Zoe giggled. “Don’t be so sure about that, handsome. I think that ‘rough and ready’ can sell stuff. Jeans? Whiskey? Cowboy hats? Motorcycles? Badass bad boys with hero scars are hot as hell, trust me.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Scars shifted on his stomach, winced. “Ouch.”
“You in pain?” She was on her feet in a flash, ready to get someone to push some more drugs into the IV. “You need some help?”
“In a while, beautiful.”
“Oh, God.” Zoe’s eyes filled with tears, but she was smiling. “I’ve missed hearing that. I’ve missed you. Scars… that you so, so much for what you did. For saving Keira. You just – you just ran straight into that building, no hesitation or thoughts about yourself. You were her only hope, her last hope, and you brought her out alive, at huge personal cost to yourself. I’ll never, never be able to pay you back for that, I know, but I can spend the rest of my life trying, at least.”
“Zoe –”
“No, please. Let me finish… I’ve wanted to tell you this for the past two days, and there was a time that I wasn’t sure that I’d ever get a chance. So let me, OK?”
He nodded.
“So thank you, and I’m sorry. Gil did this, and Gil was here because of me and Keira. I wish… I wish you weren’t hurt, and I’m sorry that it’s all come to this, and I’d love to go back and stop the whole thing from happening, but I can’t. So all I can do is…” She took a deep breath to tell him what she’d been longing to say since that sunny afternoon in the parking lot. “Is tell you that I love you.”
Startled, despite the pulling on the back of his neck, Scars turned his head and looked at her. “What did you say?”
“I love you,” she repeated. “I don’t expect you to say it back, alright? We don’t need to do anything about it at all. But it’s how I feel, and I meant to tell you in that parking lot, and then all hell broke loose and I couldn’t. So I promised myself, when you came back, I was going tell you. No fear or worry or expectations. I just – I wanted you to know. That’s all.”
“Baby –”
“And now we can get on with healing you, and making you whole and strong again,” she cut him off, determined to say everything that was on her mind. “And then…well. Then we can decide what to do next. If anything. But if I had it my way, you’d move in with me and Keira, at least for most of the week, because I guess you’d want to keep your own place in the mountains. But we’d eat breakfast together almost every morning, and we’d have coffee in the backyard on Sundays. We’d cook and play with Keira, and after we put her to bed, we’d go to our bedroom and shut the door and do every filthy thing that came to our minds. We’d be happy, Scars, all three of us, and I know that we have a long road to your recovery… so I’ll wait for it. I’ll wait for all of it. But what I wanted you to know is – I’m not afraid anymore. I’m not afraid of being loved and wanted, and loving and wanting in return. I’m ready.”
“Oh, God. Zoe. Zoe.”
“What?” she faltered, suddenly afraid. “Why are you saying my name like that? Twice?”
“Oh, baby… I – I can’t.”
“You can’t – what?”
“I can’t do any of that with you.”
Zoe’s heart plummeted clean out of her chest and hit her stomach, then carried on down to the floor.
“Oh,” she said numbly. “Right. OK.”
“Hey –”
“No, it’s really OK. I mean… yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I was dumb to think – I mean, this is all my fault, and I know that, and I don’t blame you for being angry at me and dumping me. I was stupid to hope that we’d be able to get past this – you got hurt because of me bringing Gil here, and you’re going to be in pain for a long time, and if I were you, I wouldn’t want to –”
“Look at me, Zoe.”
She screeched to a conversational halt, peered at Scars. “Ummmm. I am?”
“No, beautiful. You’re not. Look at me.”
Her brow furrowed in confusion, but she did as he said. She looked at him, and she was hurt and upset at first (and felt like a goddamn moron for thinking that this was going to work out long-term, because it never did, did it? Nooooo, not ever), but as she kept looking, she began to calm, to see. Because when she looked at Scars, she didn’t see any blame, or anger, or accusation.
No, she saw hurt, lots of that, and no surprise there. Worry too, etched into every line on that gorgeous face. Warmth and tenderness, she was overjoyed to see. And – something else.
What is that?
Then she knew: it was fear.
“Why are you afraid?” she asked quietly. “You are afraid, aren’t you?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Of what?”
“Have you seen under these bandages, baby?”
“Yes,” she replied, the word constricted by the lingering horror of the memory of flesh burned to black, oozing, jagged edges. “I – a few times, nurses and your brother kicked me out when they changed the dressings, but I saw. I – I know how bad it is.”
“So how the actual goddamn hell can you stand to look at me?” Scars asked her, his voice breaking as he finally uttered his truest, deepest fear, the one that was rooted in self-loathing and -disgust, the one that spoke both from memory and certainty of the present. “Knowing what I am now, and what’s hiding underneath? How can I expect you to ever look at me the same way again? All you’ll see are my scars, Zoe. I know it, and I don’t blame you, but I can’t live with it. You deserve better – you deserve a man who is whole.”
Zoe gazed at him, lying there on that bed on his stomach, his massive arms cradling his head, that broad, muscular back covered by thick white bandages, and she thought how gorgeous he was, even shaved bald, because his cheekbones and eyes were brought out in sharp relief. He was stunning, this man, and even being immobile and weakened and damaged didn’t change that for her. Zoe looked at him, and all she saw was Scars.
“How can I stand to look at you?” she asked softly; she wasn’t looking for a fight here, but she also wasn’t going to stand for this crap. “My God… you don’t have the first clue what I’m going to see when I look at those scars, do you?”
He stayed silent.
“Babe. Look at me.” She paused. “Please.”
Scars turned his eyes in her direction.
“Those scars… they represent your courage and selflessness for running into flames without a second of thought about yourself. They represent your facing down your own terror of fire, and not just facing it down, but kicking it smack in the balls, like the warrior that you are. But most of all, they represent my daughter, my sweet, amazing girl who is still with me, who will come home with me, because of you.” Her voice thickened, and her eyes stung with tears. “They represent her, so trust me when I say that your scars will never be anything but beautiful to me. I’m promising you, Scars – that’s all I’ll see and think when I look at them. Your actions and decisions have been literally branded into your skin… and I love and respect every one of those scars of sacrifice.”
“I – I can’t, Zoe. I can’t let you put yourself through what’s coming.”
“What are you talking about? What’s coming?”
“The treatments and surgeries and skin grafts. The physical therapy. The frustration and pain and anger. It’s – I’ve done this before, baby, and I know what it was like, and this will be way, way worse. I won’t let you make this your burden. I can’t do that to you.” He took a shuddering breath. “So – I’ve decided. I’m going to go to California, to the treatment center that Sam told Wolf about. And I’m going alone.”
Zoe stared at him, completely silently, for about thirty seconds. Then she shot to her feet.
OK, I wasn’t going to fight with him, for obvious reasons… but now? Now I’m going to the goddamn mattresses.
“Like hell you are,” she snapped, almost laughing at the look on his rough face at her less-than-sweet-and-supportive-girlfriend tone. “If you want to go to California for excellent treatment, well and good. Awesome decision. I applaud you. But you are not going without me.”
“Zoe –”
“Shut up,” she growled at him, reminding his strongly of Wolf. “I love you. We’re going to figure this out. The end.”
“But –”
“The end, you stubborn jerk. That means, this conversation is over.”
“But Keira –”
“Will come with me, and you’ll live with us when you’re between treatments and physio sessions and can leave,” she said calmly. “Any other objections?”
“Ummmm.” He blinked rapidly. “About a hundred.”
“I don’t care. Shelve them. Forget them. Write them on a piece of paper and eat them. This is happening.”
“The parlor –”
“Is burned to the ground. It’s also a crime scene. A man died there, after an attempted kidnapping, and a serious injury. The cops have made it clear that it’s going to take a couple of months to investigate and clear everything, and we can’t touch the parlor until they declare it not a crime scene. And then Wolf needs to get it inspected and assessed, then start planning and building, and he needs to hire an accountant to help with budgeting and expenses, then he has to insure everything. Nothing will happen in terms of actual building for at least two months, probably more, and I won’t even have a parlor to manage for another two after that, and frankly, Saint can take over if he has to. So – I’d say I’m pretty free for the foreseeable future, huh?”
“Uh.” He scrambled to find another objection. “Where would you and Keira live?”
“Jesus,” she said, disbelieving at how badly he was grasping at straws. “Good point, Scars! I mean, it’s not like California has apartments for rent or anything… Christ, thanks for pointing out this insurmountable problem to me. I’d better call the whole thing off.”
“Zoe –”
“Anything else weighing on your mind? Anything legitimate?”
“Yeah – I mean – just – well – I –”
“Yes?” She put her hands on her hips, tossed her blonde hair, glared down at him. “Yes?”
“I love you, Zoe.”
“I love you too,” she snapped back. “And that’s not an answer.”
“It’ll be hard,” he said slowly, finally stopping the ridiculous tap-dancing and telling her the truth. “Hard watching me like that. I’ll be angry sometimes, say that what happened was unfair. I won’t want to talk to you, see you… I won’t want Keira to be there some days, much as I adore her. I’ll – I’ll be a royal prick sometimes, as I go through things and work them out. I’ll need time alone. Days on end, maybe. I’ll take things out on you, even though I know that’s not right. I’ll feel sorry for myself once in a while. I’ll be resentful of having to go through all of that shit – again. I’ll want things to be different. I’ll want to run away. I’ll rage and vent and say awful things, then I’ll apologize and just have to hope that you accept and forgive and move on with me. I’m going to hurt you – the woman that I love – and I know that I will. You hearing me, baby? I won’t be the man that you remember, not for a long time. Maybe not ever again.”
“Oh, babe.” She spoke softly, amazed yet again at the absolute, stunning beauty of this man’s heart. “I don’t care who you become through this. However you remain the same, or however you change, whoever you are at the end of all of this, whoever you become… don’t you know that you’ll be incredible?”
“You really think so?”
“I know so.” Zoe sat down again, reached for him tentatively, was overjoyed when he held her fingers tightly. “You waited for me, Scars. You stuck by me, and kept showing up, and kept faith in me, even when I pushed you away or was a full-throttle bitch or defensive as hell. You kept telling me that you weren’t going to take anything less than my best, and then you let me find my way there. My way to you. You’ve shown me how to be strong and patient, how to believe in someone who hasn’t yet come to believe in themselves. You did it for me, and now… now I’m going to do it for you.”
She smiled, even as those sky-blue eyes shone up at her with tears. Happy tears, she knew.
“You take your time, babe,” she said. “Do what you have to, say what you need to, feel however you have to. And I promise you – none of it will drive me away, because damned if I’m going anywhere. I’m here now, I’ll be there through it all, I’m going to be there at the end of it. That’s a promise, a guarantee, a blood oath.”
“An oath forged in fire?” he asked, and she loved his light, joking tone.
“Forged in fire,” she repeated, dropping the smallest, softest kiss humanly possible on his lips. “You walked through fire for me and my daughter, Scars… I can sure as hell wait for you to walk back to me, in your own way, in your own time. And when you do that, we’ll be there with open arms. On my life, my heart, babe. I love you. We’re waiting.”