shocked. I had no fucking idea. And no fucking preparation for what I saw. I thought I knew you, Eve. Thought I knew what you looked like—as you and as her.” The redhead. “I had no fucking clue that window had damaged your face. No idea the explosion wounded more of you than the one scar you did reveal.”
Eve gasped as if she couldn’t breathe, and Zachary backed off, took a step away, leaving her standing against the fridge. He shoved a hand through his hair. “When you first told me about…about the bomb, I’d never felt so powerless, never been less able to protect the woman I loved. I wanted to hurt someone. Wanted to injure the people who’d done this to you. But then last night… Last night when I realized just how…how extensive your injuries were, I was gutted. For you, Tiny. I couldn’t comprehend how you’d endured such…violence, such hatred. Such pain. How you’d borne those scars and lived with them.”
His chest heaved, filled with pain and impotence and desperation. “The part that knocked me flat was how fucking much you must have hurt. How fucking long it must have taken you to recover, and how fucking unfair life could be. And I was mad too. Mad that anyone could do that to you. It hurt…me.” And if it had hurt him, he could only imagine what it had done to her. “Felt like someone was poking my stomach with a burning stake. The impotence, the anger, the injustice. All of it. Except you, Eve. You don’t… You could
The fight fizzled out of her. How could Eve possibly remain angry with him after that?
She wanted to walk over to him. Wanted to lean into him, have him wrap his arms around her and assure her everything would be okay.
But she couldn’t, and it wouldn’t.
Zachary might not have been repulsed by her, but he had pitied her. And every time he saw her face, he’d pity her all over again.
Eve didn’t want his sympathy. She didn’t want anyone’s sympathy. She just wanted to lead a regular life with a regular guy, and that, she’d learned once again, would never happen. Not for her.
Her sigh was long and jagged, kind of like the glass that had cut through the muscles in her chest. “I believe you,” she said simply.
The breath whooshed from his chest. “Oh, Jesus. Thank you.”
“But I’d still like you to leave now.”
He went white all over again. “What? Why?”
“Because I don’t want your pity.”
“Pity?”
“I couldn’t bear to see that look in your eyes every time I removed my makeup.”
He gritted his teeth. “That look in my eyes was not pity. It was shock. There’s a difference.”
“If you say so.”
“Fuck, Eve. I don’t pity you. I admire you. Admire your strength and your backbone. Admire your ability to pick up the pieces of your life and move on. Admire that you took the worst thing that could happen to a person and made the most of it. You turned the instinct to hide your scars into a profession. A successful profession. You made a name for yourself. Pity is the last thing on my mind.”
“I don’t want to be admired either. I just want a normal, day-to-day relationship with a man.”
“And you think I don’t want that? You think I haven’t been waiting for it all my life? Waiting for you all my life? You think it’s easy to fall in love when you’re a fucking rock star? Think there’s anything normal about that? Yeah…uh. No! Being with you was the most normal I’ve been in the last three years.” He held up his hand. “No, scratch that. There is nothing normal about the way I feel about you. Nothing normal about the intensity of my emotions. I fucking love you. I’m crazy mad about you. I…I feel things I’ve never felt before” He pounded his chest. “Feel them deep inside, like your emotions are mine. I hurt when you hurt, laugh when you laugh. It’s like we’re connected somehow. Like we… Like you’re my fate. You are, Eve. You’re my fate. You’re mine. You’re a part of me.”
She wanted to let him back in. God knew she wanted to be his fate. He even made it sound like they had a chance. Made it sound romantic—and possible. But a part of her, one she couldn’t ignore, still believed he’d never really be able to see past her scars. No matter what he’d said, it wasn’t feasible that anyone could get past that scarring. Hadn’t experience taught her that, time and again?
“Go, Zachary. Please. We’re over. There’s nothing left between us. Just…leave.”
Zachary growled fiercely and looked at her in pure frustration. Then he growled again, and before she could move, he grabbed both her hands in his and held tight.
What the…? That was deliberate. No question about it. Zachary knew exactly what he was doing.
Her palms tingled. Electricity raced up both of her arms. Spots danced in front of her eyes before the world around her turned grey and then black.
Pain shot through her eye and breathing became difficult, as though her nose were blocked. And damn it, her shin ached, from were Hannah had kicked her earlier. She was going to have a massive bruise there tomorrow.
What the…?
Hannah hadn’t kicked her in the shin.
Yeah, she had. After Bree punched her in the stomach.
Uh…
Oh, God. Not her.
Eve blinked, looked around, but everything was out of focus. Where before she’d been looking at Zachary and the kitchen door, now she stared at herself, in front of the fridge.
Eve groaned. She blinked again, but hard as she tried, her vision was still blurry. Maybe that was because she’d forced her stinging eye open? Soon as she closed it, her sight cleared, although now she could only see one side of the room.
No, it wasn’t her eye she looked out of. It was his.
Jesus, who cared about her—his—vision, or the pain in her—his—nose and leg. All he cared about was making this woman see how goddamned much he loved her. How important she was. How much he needed her in his life. Now and always.
What could he say? How could he make her understand?
Frustration and desperation boiled in his stomach.
She stared back at him, her eyes cloudy, her scars vivid on her unpainted cheek.
He didn’t care about the scars. Didn’t care they were there. Only that someone had hurt her this bad. It made him want to attack someone. Made him want to tear apart whoever had done this to her, limb by fucking limb.
“I love you, Eve.”
So damn much his ribs ached from it.
“Love you so much. I don’t see your scars. I don’t pity you. I only want to love you. Please, God, just give me the chance. Give me the opportunity to show you how happy we can be together.”
Eve didn’t respond. She seemed incapable of doing so. Her gaze was blank.
His heart pounded, his chest so full of love for her, he feared he might burst. “Jesus, Tiny. I know I’m holding your hands, know I shouldn’t be, but I can’t let go. Won’t let you go. Please, please, just feel it. Feel my love. Please.”
And that was the last thing he said before the blackness hit and Eve lost consciousness.
Eve came to on Bree’s couch. The ten or so scatter cushions pillowing her head gave her location away. She didn’t even try to open her eyes, knowing the room would spin out of control if she did.
She just lay there concentrating on breathing.
Her forehead pounded with the start of what promised to be a whopper of a headache.
“This is beginning to become a habit of yours, isn’t it?” she asked Zachary, knowing he was close by. She smelled his aftershave and heard his breathing.
