Safe at Last (Slow Burn #3)

And yet Zack had been utterly devastated by the revelation. No one could possibly feign that kind of reaction. He’d looked sick at heart and there was no faking the tears and anguish. Never had she seen such raw agony in another person.

She could make herself crazy trying to make sense of the insensible. There was no point in even attempting it. But she could make sure she was never again in a position of being betrayed by someone she trusted when the solution was so simple.

She wouldn’t give him—or anyone—the opportunity. And that was no way to live. Never allowing herself to get close to someone. Never having friendships, close relationships. Or sharing her life with someone she cared about. Hadn’t she already wasted too much of her life as it was? Living in a self-imposed void, carrying out the motions of each day, never dreaming of the future. Not having dreams at all?

The idea filled her with sadness, and, disgusted with herself for already weakening under his influence after only forty-eight hours, she shoved the covers back and gingerly sat up, sliding her legs around and over the edge of the bed.

Taking it slow, she eased up, holding on to the headboard so she didn’t end up in a heap on the floor. Her body groaned its protest. A hot flush washed through her body, and the stiffness and pain had her panting lightly as she weaved around like some drunk sorority girl. She paused a moment to gain her bearings, and after she steadied herself enough that she felt confident that she wouldn’t take a header, she took a purposeful step, pleased when she didn’t so much as wobble.

She was still dressed in the clothes she’d worn the day before. Wrinkling her nose in distaste, she made her way to the closet. Zack had said Eliza had shopped for her and she was curious to see what the other woman had chosen.

If she had been worried, she needn’t have been. The clothing was a study in comfort. Soft—not stiff—denim jeans were folded neatly and arranged on the shelves. There was an array of tops to choose from as well as shoes, socks and, to her embarrassment, an assortment of panties and bras. It appeared as though Eliza had covered all the bases.

Bypassing the jeans, because she didn’t feel up to wrestling with the formfitting denim, she instead chose a pair of athletic pants and then selected one of the comfortable-looking shirts.

She’d kill for a hot bath and to soak for a couple of hours, but she knew she didn’t have a prayer of being able to get out of the tub once in, and she wasn’t about to ask Zack for help. Later she would attempt a shower and hope that she was steady enough not to slip and fall.

After brushing her teeth and taming her tangled hair into a much more manageable ponytail, she braved leaving the bedroom and carefully walked toward the living room. To her surprise, she saw Wade and Eliza—not Zack. Where was he? In the last few days, she hadn’t been able to move without him being no more than a foot away at most.

Eliza was cheerfully making a cup of coffee, and Wade . . . well, he didn’t look pleased by Eliza’s company. Anna-Grace wondered what that was all about. Wade certainly wasn’t immune to a pretty woman and Eliza was very attractive. Not to mention capable and self-sufficient. All the things Anna-Grace wished she was.

Wade turned down the coffee Eliza offered, and with a shrug, Eliza sank down onto the couch with her mug cupped in her palms as though she had a cup of ambrosia. The look of bliss on her face was comical.

Then Eliza glanced up and saw Anna-Grace in the doorway. Immediately she shot to her feet and set her coffee on the table in front of the couch and hurried over to where Anna-Grace stood.

“How are you feeling?” Eliza asked.

She put her hand under Anna-Grace’s elbow to lead her farther into the living room and then firmly deposited her in one of the armchairs.

“Would you like some coffee? I just brewed it so it’s nice and hot, and I do make a pretty mean cup of coffee if I do say so myself.”

Wade also walked over to Anna-Grace, concern darkening his face.

“Are you all right, Anna-Grace?” he asked quietly. “Are you hungry? Is there anything I can get you?”

To her surprise, Anna-Grace was hungry. After a few days of sipping, at best, a few spoonfuls of soup, her stomach was protesting loudly.

“Coffee and breakfast sound heavenly,” she breathed.

Eliza beamed. “I’d say that’s a good sign that you’re starting to get better.”

Wade turned to Eliza and grudgingly asked, “Would you like something to eat as well?”

Eliza’s eyes twinkled mischievously, almost as if she knew she annoyed Wade—and didn’t care one bit, and she smiled sweetly with exaggerated innocence. “Why thank you, Wade. I’d love something to eat. Gracie and I can eat together.”

“Her name is Anna-Grace,” Wade growled.

Eliza’s gaze shot to Anna-Graze, apology evident in her eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s just that Zack has always called you Gracie and that’s what I know you by. Would you prefer that I call you Anna-Grace?”