Zara cried and cried, and my heart broke. There was nothing I could do. She needed a hug. Why wasn’t someone holding her? Where was Zane? Her dad?
Without warning, the door to the house opened, and a few bodies spilled out. Someone yelled my name. Elbows and knees bumped into me. I nearly lost my grip on the phone.
“Where are you?” Zara asked, her voice wobbly.
“Nowhere important. I want to talk to you.”
“Maccie!” Tim called from the side yard. “Get your pretty cowboy ass over here. Kayla misses you.”
I groaned. “Look, I’m going to—”
“No, I’m sorry for calling so late. Of course you’re busy. It’s fine. I need to go be with my mom anyway.”
“I’m here, Zara,” I rushed out. “Talk to me.”
“I have to go. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”
And she was gone before I could say anything else.
Both of us went quiet. Any minute, I expected her to climb out of my truck and get into her car, but she stayed, looking out the window, sipping her coffee. Having nowhere to be, I let myself relax as best I could.
Zara’s breath got stuck in her throat, and she sat up straight, her brow furrowed as she studied me.
“You okay?”
“Yes.” She nodded a few times. “I need to ask you something.”
“All right. Ask me anything you want.” I might not have liked the question, but if she wanted answers, I’d give them to her.
“While I agree it’s best to leave some questions unanswered, I can’t let this one go. Last night, you said you never hated me. Not once.”
“That’s true.”
She looked down at her hands clenched in her lap, her shoulders rising as she sucked in a deep breath. When she let it out, she raised her head, pinning her dark eyes on me, accusation and hurt swirling in them.
“Then why did you try to talk Jackson out of marrying me the night before our wedding?”
For a second, I didn’t understand.
The words hit my ears, but my brain refused to process them.
I stared at her, certain I’d misheard.
“I—” My throat closed, and I swallowed, but it didn’t help. “What?”
How could she know about that night?
Chapter Seventeen
Zara
Ihadn’tplannedonasking him that. Long ago, I’d decided to let it be the punctuation at the bitter end of our friendship.
But that was before spending time with Cormac these last few weeks and finding out he was still the same guy he used to be. So sweet and tender, funny and kind. He’d bend over backward without a second thought. Even after everything, he’d dropped everything to help me last weekend. Last night. Today.
I didn’t know how to reconcile the things I’d overheard him saying with the man in front of me.
And from his befuddled expression, he didn’t understand what I was asking.
