Her eyelids fluttered and she lifted her gaze to meet his, desperately trying to keep the mind-numbing terror at bay.
He framed her face in his hands and gently stroked his thumb over her bottom lip.
“You will not allow him to control your life any longer,” he said, soft reprimand in his voice. “You’ve allowed him too much control for too long. That’s over with. He can’t hurt you now. I swear to you, I’ll never let him hurt you. Do you trust me?”
She bit into her lip, because God, that wasn’t an easy question for someone like her. Someone who trusted no one. Who had no reason to trust anyone. And yet she’d already admitted that she did trust Wade. They’d established that point. One he was calling her on again. But before they’d been just words. Now they meant something.
She reluctantly nodded and he relaxed the slightest bit, almost as if he were afraid she’d deny it and run from him just as she’d run from everything else in her life for the last twelve years.
“You are not that frightened young girl any longer,” Wade said gently. “You’re strong. You’ve built a life for yourself. A career. A very promising career. You’re talented. Far more talented than many of the big names in art right now. You’ve created a place for yourself in the world. Are you going to let him destroy all that?”
Anna-Grace frowned, because when put that way, while she hadn’t had a choice over what happened to her all those years ago, now? She did have a choice. She was a different person than she’d been then. Older. Wiser. Not as young and naïve. Not as gullible. And yes, as Wade said, she was stronger now.
It was nearly laughable to consider any part of herself strong when she’d hidden for so long, scared of her own shadow. But she was strong. Stronger than she gave herself credit for. And Wade was also right in that she’d built a life for herself. Right here. Her showing was in a week. It was what could launch her entire career.
Wade leaned in and pressed his lips to her forehead in a gesture that looked decidedly intimate. To someone peeking in on them, they would appear to be lovers, clear affection between them. Only Anna-Grace and Wade knew better.
“Take a stand, Anna-Grace,” he whispered. “You aren’t alone. You’ll never be alone. Don’t allow your past to rule your present a single day longer. This is your moment to shine. Your moment in the sun. Don’t let anyone ruin it for you.”
She squared her shoulders and then lifted a hand to cup over Wade’s that still rested on her cheek. She leaned into his palm and briefly closed her eyes.
“I’m not that sixteen-year-old innocent, naïve girl any longer,” she said falteringly. But her voice grew stronger as she continued. “I’ll never be that girl again.”
She looked up at Wade with fire in her eyes.
“He took my life from me once. I won’t let him do it again. I’ll never allow him—anyone—to have that kind of power over me again.”
Wade smiled. “Now that’s the Anna-Grace I know.”
Anna-Grace took a deep breath. “I’m scared, Wade. I won’t lie about that. You heard him. He thought I was dead. What if they were supposed to kill me?”
Wade’s expression became hard. So hard that she shivered at the danger reflected in his dark eyes. His thumb rubbed along the indention of her chin and then moved to the corner of her mouth.
“I will never allow any harm to come to you, Anna-Grace. I swear it on my life.”
SEVEN
ZACK paced the interior of Eliza’s living room like a caged, restless lion ready to attack and kill. He dragged a hand repeatedly through his short, spiked hair until it was in complete disarray, shooting in a dozen different directions.
Sweat. He was sweating. His shirt was damp. His brow glistened with moisture. And a bead slipped down his spine, making him itchier and more irritable by the minute.
“Zack, sit down.”
Eliza’s voice was soft, but it carried a hint of command.
She glanced over the top of her laptop and motioned for him to sit down on the other wing of the sectional sofa. Eliza’s apartment was a study in comfort. Decorated in warm earth tones with a splash of femininity. Not overdone. Not too girly. It was a place a man would feel welcome. A place he could call home.
He’d dreamed of surprising Gracie with a huge home. A two-story mansion with at least seven bedrooms, and jack-and-jill bathrooms connecting the children’s bedrooms in twos. He’d wanted four boys and then two girls. Six of the bedrooms would be connected by a bathroom so that only two children would ever have to share one. And of course he’d want the little girls last so they’d have older brothers to look out for them and spoil them every bit as much as he would.
Gracie had loved the house that Zack had grown up in. It was the epitome of the American dream. Two-story white frame house with homey dormers, a sprawling front porch with a swing and a white picket fence surrounding the house. It was precisely the sort of home she’d daydreamed about, though he’d never brought her over after that first disaster when he’d taken her to meet his father. The memory still enraged him. His father had completely humiliated Gracie. Had made her feel like a piece of filth. Hell, he’d even called her white trash. Had said that even the trailer park was too good for the likes of her. Given that Gracie was homeless for the most part, it had been a low blow. A trailer would have been welcome to Gracie. Anything that put a roof over her head.
After Gracie’s uncle had died, Zack had been relieved, until he realized that Gracie had no place to live. Still, he recognized she was much better off homeless than under the power of an abusive relative.
Zack had found her a tiny motel on the Dover side of the lake. She landed a position as a room cleaner, which didn’t provide much of anything in the way of a paycheck. But what it did provide was a place for her to live—a tiny bedroom on the first floor next to the office—and it provided her one meal a day, her choice of breakfast or dinner from the homestyle cooking restaurant attached to the motel. Zack gave her money for the other two meals of the day, and he often ate breakfast and dinner with her so that he ensured she didn’t go without.
Every morning she rose before dawn to begin her day. She left in time to get to school and then she resumed her job afterward.
Zack came home at every opportunity. His father was disgusted by the fact he was so hung up on a girl that he was blowing what should have been the best years of his life. There were no frat parties or endless girlfriends, no living large with his star quarterback fame. No, he attended his classes and made all his practices, but he always looked forward to the end of football season, when he could come home to Gracie.