“All you do is lecture. I haven’t done anything yet.”
Travis scoffed. “Yet. That’s the problem. If you hurt Lauren, I’ll hurt you.”
Zach gripped the door handle with the force of a vise. “Why is everyone worried about Lauren?”
It was a stupid question. Zach knew exactly why he was on everyone’s radar where Lauren was concerned. He didn’t care what people thought. Lauren knew he wouldn’t hurt her, and that was all that mattered.
“Because everybody loves her. She didn’t deserve what happened to her, and she doesn’t deserve to get walked all over.”
Of course everybody loved her. Zach knew she was different the moment he saw her face in the light of day. He’d filled her life with terror, and she looked at him like he was a sad puppy.
But he wasn’t a puppy. He was a monster, and she was just too stupid to realize it.
“I apologized, but that’s between me and Lauren.”
“That’s not all I’m talking about. She’s had it rough since the day she was born.”
“She can join the club! Lots of people have tough lives!” Zach shouted. The little hints Lauren had given him about her life were like breadcrumbs—enough to entice hunger, but not enough to satisfy. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t interested. He’d always assumed her childhood was the stuff of fairytales, and something inside him rolled at the realization that she’d once been a scared and defenseless kid.
Travis’s words were slow, and each word packed a punch. “But she didn’t turn out like you, did she? She’sbeen subjected to pain like you wouldn’t know, but she still thinks everyone deserves a chance. Even you.”
The last shred of energy in Zach’s body seeped out. He didn’t have the will to argue. They were just talking in circles. Zach didn’t understand Lauren, and Travis still didn’t understand Zach. It would be the same tomorrow and the next day too.
“I won’t hurt her.” There. The words would have to do because it was the only thing Zach had. No evidence. No oath. No written contract. Travis would have to take it or leave it.
Travis’s jaw shifted in the shadows as he processed Zach’s words. “One bruise, and I’m coming after you.”
“Well, if there’s a bruise on her, I’ll be joining in the search because it won’t be from me.”
With that, Zach shoved the door open. He was two seconds away from rearranging Travis’s face, and he wasn’t in the mood to explain the assault to his parole officer.
Lauren was the only one who was safe from him. He might not lay a hand on her, but he’d be bailing this Brady Bunch perfect life she was forcing him into as soon as he saw a way out.
The flimsy door rattled on its hinges as he jerked the front door closed behind him. He opened and slammed half the cupboards shut before he realized he was searching for the bottle of whiskey he didn’t have.
The only thing he knew how to do was destroy, and he didn’t want to be around Lauren when he did it again.
12
Lauren
Every muscle ached as Lauren trudged up the steps onto the porch. The dim, orange light beside the front door only provided enough glow for her to find the key and get inside.
She dropped her purse onto a table by the door and froze. Something was different.
It was quiet. Where was Zach? For the last two weeks, he’d been working at her house when she got home in the evenings.
Maybe he’d decided to work on the rental house. Maybe he was finished for the day. She was later than usual. She’d gone straight to the church after work to move her Sunday School classroom to a bigger area. The kids’ class was bursting at the seams, and the older class had graciously offered to trade them the larger space.
She turned around and opened the door she’d just come through and squinted to see anything in thedarkness. The truck Mr. Benson had loaned Zach wasn’t anywhere to be found. Thank the Lord, he had a license and a phone now, but that made it tougher to keep up with him.
Keeping up with him was not her job. She needed to tattoo the reminder on her hand, so she’d stop worrying over him all the time.
Slipping back inside and locking the door, she let the last of her composure slip away. Sure, Zach was providing her a service she needed, but the relief of being able to relax in her own home was a luxury she’d taken for granted in the past. She could slip into her pajamas and work on the Sunday School lesson.
The lesson. Heavy hands pressed on her shoulders. It was Saturday night, and she hadn’t prepared a single thing for tomorrow morning’s class. She’d never waited this late to prepare, but every time she sat down in front of her Bible, her mind was inconveniently blank. Now, it was crunch time, and she was crippling under the pressure.
She mulled over lesson ideas while she showered. The kids ranged in age from four to six, and making the lessons relatable to them usually posed a challenge. She didn’t want to sugarcoat the Lord’s word, but she wanted to present it on their level too.
