“And you’re the one who broke into my apartment,” Zachary said tentatively. “There’s a police record of that. Are you going to tell the judge that?”
“I didn’t break in!” Bridget shouted, taking a step toward him.
Zachary took a step back. Kenzie moved in closer; her hands clenched into fists. “If you hit him again, I’m calling the cops,” she warned. “What’s all this about breaking in?”
“Christmas Day,” Zachary said. “When I was at the hospital with Isabella’s family. She came by here. Used her key to get in. I called the police because I thought she was a burglar.”
“You are sick; you know that?” Kenzie addressed Bridget. “Maybe you should get some help. Some therapy. Because you’re the one who won’t leave him alone. For all I know, you’re the one that cut the brake lines on his car.”
Zachary watched Bridget carefully for her reaction. He knew that her car hadn’t been anywhere near the inn that night. What about Gordon? Had he done her bidding? Or had she borrowed his car, knowing that Zachary might recognize hers if he saw it in the parking lot or following him on the street? He had never asked the police if they’d looked into the possibility that she was involved in the sabotage.
“I didn’t do that,” Bridget hissed. Her face contorted with rage. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him. If I need therapy, that’s his fault too. Do you have any idea what it’s like putting up with his crap day in and day out? With his suspicion and paranoia and having to check and recheck everything? He’s never had a healthy relationship in his life. I warned you. You don’t want to lose years of your life to this creep. He’s like a soul-sucking vampire. It’s no wonder I ended up getting cancer. The stress of having to deal with his obsessive behavior every day wrecked my health. I got sick because of him!”
Zachary couldn’t have been more staggered if she’d punched him. His gut and his chest tightened, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe anymore. His legs were like jelly, and the world turned all wavy in front of his eyes. He knew it had finally happened. He was having a heart attack. She had broken his heart. He had suspected she blamed him for her cancer, but it was the first time she had put it into words.
“Zachary!” Kenzie grabbed at Zachary as his knees hit the ground, then his body. He curled up in agony, clutching his chest and unable to draw breath. “Zachary!”
“Look at him!” Bridget jeered. “Look how far he’ll go to get your sympathy. You imagine living with a man who has a panic attack any time you have an argument! I stayed with him because I thought he would die if I didn’t. I seriously thought he was going to keel over and die if I left.”
“Zachary!” Kenzie was clutching at him. “Should I call 9-1-1? Do you need a pill? An inhaler? What can I do?”
He couldn’t draw breath enough to answer her. The world was going dark around him. By the time an ambulance got there, he’d be dead.
“He’ll have pills in his apartment,” Bridget said grudgingly. “I don’t know why he doesn’t carry them with him. Or have something he can take every day to prevent it from happening in the first place. If we can get him up there…”
Kenzie put her hand under Zachary’s arm, trying to coax him to his feet. “I don’t think we’re going to be able to get him anywhere. Maybe I should get an ambulance.”
“If you just wait, it will pass. An ambulance and admitting him to the hospital will just rack up the bills.”
“He’s turning blue.”
“It will pass,” Bridget repeated. “It’s self-limiting. He’ll either pass out or it will start abating on its own.”
It helped Zachary to hear Bridget’s calm voice repeating what the doctors had always said. She’d seen him have panic attacks before. She didn’t see anything to be concerned about.
“What if it’s not a panic attack?” Kenzie asked. “What if it’s a heart attack? Or a stroke?”
“It’s not.”
They both watched Zachary. Gradually, his gasping started to slow, and the world began to come back into focus. Kenzie attended to him, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly and repeating soothing words and phrases.
“Better?” Kenzie asked. “Are you okay?”
Zachary cleared his throat. His chest was still hurting, and his throat felt raw from breathing so hard. He still felt dizzy and a little nauseated. “Yeah. I’m okay.”
“You should see a doctor,” Bridget snapped. “You know you have a problem, so why don’t you do something about it?”
“They can’t always control it.”
“You haven’t even tried.”
Zachary started to sit up, taking his time. He stopped and put his head in his hands, closing his eyes.
“I have tried.”
“Can you get up?” Kenzie asked.
Zachary let her help him to his feet. He leaned on her, trying not to put too much of his weight on her.
“I think it’s time for you to go,” Kenzie told Bridget.
“I’ll help you get him up to his apartment.”
“I don’t think so! You’ve done enough damage.”
Bridget stood there for a moment, her mouth partway open, looking for something to say. Finally, she raised her hands in a melodramatic shrug. “Fine. He’s all yours. I don’t want him in my life.”
“Good. Then go.”
Bridget turned halfway around. “He has a few Xanax in his medicine cabinet. He’ll probably want one of them. Then he’ll sleep.”
“We’ll sort it out.”
“Fine.” Bridget looked at Zachary. “No more trackers on my car. No following or surveilling me. Not personally, not with electronics, and not by hiring someone else. Got it? Just stay away from me.”
“Take your own advice,” Kenzie snapped.
“If I were you, I’d have your car checked for trackers too,” Bridget told her.
Kenzie looked at Zachary. He tried not to give anything away with his expression. He shifted, easing his weight off of her, trying to get his legs working.
“Okay,” Kenzie
