Safe at Last (Slow Burn #3)

She shrugged her shoulders. “Or maybe she’s just afraid of you and your broody-ass expressions. Take your pick.”


Gracie bit into her bottom lip, wondering how she could possibly find humor in something as macabre as her situation. And leaning on the very last people she would have ever accepted help from. Zack’s friends. Acquaintances. Coworkers or whatever he considered them. That he had a connection at all with them should have sent her on the run after that very first encounter with Zack.

But Wade had talked her down, ever the reasonable, unflappable one. And coldly dangerous. However, she’d known that had she not seen the light and realized that Wade was right about her needing to stop running and to embrace the life she’d made for herself, he would have helped her if she’d truly wanted to relocate somewhere else. All she would have had to do was ask.

Perhaps it was the stubborn streak in her. And . . . well . . . recent events had her questioning every single thing she’d been made to believe for the last twelve years. Zack had been utterly devastated and so enraged that in that moment she truly did fear him. Not that he’d hurt her. And that was insane enough after what he purportedly did. No, she feared he would kill every last man who had a part in her rape. And that gave her no joy. No sense of justice. Because it meant that Zack would have to pay the price, just as she’d had to pay the price for more than a decade, and she wouldn’t wish that on her worst enemy. Whether he’d betrayed her or not.

She opened her mouth to ask a question and froze because she sounded too . . . eager. And she wanted to remain indifferent. As if none of this mattered. Particularly Zack. She knew enough about herself to know she’d never love another man as she’d loved Zack. Sixteen or not, she’d know—known—that he was it for her. Every time she looked at him, she saw forever in his eyes and when she read his thoughts. God, they were bursting with love. So much love and pride. And possession.

She had belonged to him. The only person she’d every truly belonged to. And he’d belonged to her.

So what had happened?

None of this was adding up!

There was no faking the gut-wrenching grief and regret in Zack’s face when she’d told him what happened. He hadn’t been able to speak and when he had, tears had rolled down his cheeks and he’d crawled to her, unable to stand. A proud, arrogant, dominant male, crawling to her just so he could gently touch her face. So he could apologize and beg forgiveness for something he’d sworn to her he hadn’t done.

None of this made any sense in her already senseless world. The only question that stood out to her during this whole thing was . . .

What if he hadn’t done it? And what if because she ran from him twelve years ago without hearing his side of the story, he now hated her every bit as much as she’d hated him?

She closed her eyes and warm tears slid soundlessly down her cheeks. That one word held a wealth of meaning. Capitulation. Surrender. Admittance of wrongdoing. God. Was she crazy?

She had said she’d hated him. Past tense. As if that were no longer the case and she loved him still. Did she? Had she ever truly stopped loving him even in the darkest moments of her grief and despair? It was a question that disturbed her on many levels.

But the one thing that kept creeping into her consciousness, despite her best effort to keep it at bay, was the fact that he’d been so vehement in his denial that he’d had any part in her rape. And God, he’d seemed so sincere. What if she’d been wrong? All these years?

Nausea and unease churned in her stomach.

“Gracie?”

Eliza’s soft voice interrupted the volatile mix of Gracie’s thoughts. “I know you’re upset, but please just give Zack a chance. He’ll be home in a few hours. His flight was delayed and he was furious because he wanted to be here for your doctor’s appointment. But he’s coming.”

Gracie’s thoughts immediately shifted to Eliza as overwhelming fear and anxiety swept over Gracie. Should she tell Eliza what she’d “heard”? And had she heard anything at all except her own scrambled imagination?

She bit into her lip, not knowing what she should do. Wondering if she was losing her mind after so long trying to keep it together and survive.

“Gracie?”

This time it was Wade who softly spoke her name. There was concern and a slight edge to the softness. She glanced up to see his eyes sharp, taking in every aspect of her appearance, almost as if he were reading her thoughts.

But he didn’t need her gift to read people. He was very discerning and had an uncanny knack for reading people. Their intent. Whether they posed a threat or not. And given that she was the only person he’d allowed close, to her knowledge, she must have some way passed his scrutiny.