it. Dad would sometimes tell me that it would go away if I’d just look for somebody else.” He stopped pacing and slid her a look. “There is nobody else. There can’t be. Not for me.”
Abby wasn’t looking at him. Her shoulders were rising and falling just a little too fast, like she was having trouble breathing.
“You never noticed. Never seemed to see me, but I thought maybe if you’d just go out with me, give me a chance, I could get you to notice me. So I worked up the courage, spent all damn week psyching myself up for it. And that fucker was there, trying to hurt you.” He stopped and stared at the design wall in front of him, but he wasn’t seeing the pictures. He saw that day, everything playing out as it had a thousand times in his nightmares. “I could have killed him. I wanted to do it and I swear, sometimes, I think if I hadn’t heard you crying, I might have done it.”
Hearing the ragged sound of her breathing, he turned back around and stared at her averted face. “And if I said I was sorry about that, I’d be lying.”
She finally looked at him. Her eyes were bright and hot, but dry. Thank God. If she’d been crying, he didn’t know if he could keep talking. “The only thing I’m sorry about is that you got into so much trouble over it, Zach.”
“I’m not sorry over any of it,” he snarled. Crossing the distance between them, he caught her face between his hands. Even now, he still saw the fear. She’d been so pale, so scared, fighting against that thick-necked son of a bitch, trapped between him and a table, struggling to get away. And all he’d had was a damned skateboard. Swallowing the bile rising up in his throat, he waited until the fury passed and then he shifted his gaze away from her again. “I was just going to wait a few weeks. Just a few weeks. But when I went back over to talk to you again, you told me that you were glad that I was just me . . . just your friend. Not like any of the jerks out there and you felt safe with me. Safe . . .”
“Zach . . .”
He shook his head. “So I wanted to stay that way. Safe. Not a jerk. Just your friend. For a little while longer, so you could feel safe.” He smoothed a hand down her back and because she was there, because he wanted to touch her while she wasn’t pulling away, he tugged her against him and when she let him do that, he dipped his head, pressed his lips to her neck. “I waited too long, though, and you had me shoved back into that corner as friend. Your dad died. You took off running. In college, you hooked up with that asshole. Then you finally settled down here . . .”
He stopped, fisting a hand in the back of her dress as he fought for the words.
* * *
Settled down here . . .
The light clicked on in Abigale’s head. Sebastian . . . what he’d said.
You got him to move away from LA.
“You left LA for me.”
He lifted his head, gold-streaked hair tumbling into his eyes. “I’d leave heaven and earth behind for you. You were the only thing that ever mattered to me.”
Her heart thudded against her ribs as the hand on her neck slid up to cradle her face. The way he touched her . . . the way he looked at her. All this time. Yes, he’d made her feel safe all those years ago. Zach had always been her haven. Her sanctuary. He was her everything, but she’d never seen that until recently. Never let him see it, either.
Swallowing the knot in her throat, she closed a hand around his wrist and asked raggedly, “And acting? Everything else you left behind? How much of that was because of me, too?”
“I left it behind because that wasn’t my life,” he said gently. Dark blue eyes watched her. “You know that. I never once regretted walking away. It doesn’t suit me anymore. It doesn’t fit me. I found the life I wanted. And the woman I’ve always wanted is standing right in front of me.”
Her breathing hitched. “And why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded. “Damn it, I asked you . . . just a few days ago.