What Doesn't Kill You (2 page)

Eric set another cup of the disgusting stuff on the table. “I dosed it with plenty of cold rice milk.”

“Thanks.” She drank a good bit of it, to get the torture over with. “Blech. Why did it have to be chamomile?” Eric rubbed his mouth, and she knew damn well he was trying to hide a smile. “Go ahead and laugh, as long as you don’t tell Claire. Ever. I’d never live it down.”

She sucked down more. Her sour stomach eased, but it tasted just as bad. The only thing that kept her drinking was the almost instant relief. Eric had done extensive research before he let her drink it, when she discovered accidentally that the chamomile soothed, after a local café mixed up orders and gave her that instead of her usual, and completely ineffective, mint tea.

With wildly across-the-board opinions, Annie decided to try it, diluted with plenty of rice milk. Her obstetrician, Dr. Karen Meecham, gave the okay when she brought in a sample; there was so little of the herb, Dr. Meecham stated she couldn’t even taste it. But Annie could, and gagged it down at least twice a week.

Claire would laugh herself hoarse.

Eric rubbed her back. They discovered it helped take her mind off the taste. So did talking. “Zach still at the beach?”

“Yeah,” she said. It was his habit after dinner now. Eating as fast as possible, then bolting before Annie could force him to talk. Tonight he skipped dinner—the result of their latest argument, when Annie cornered him in the library, and poked at him until he took off.

He usually stayed out until after she went to bed. But not tonight. Since she’d chased him off, she decided it was up to her to go to him and apologize. She also decided, after noting the grief and anger their argument brought to the surface, that it was past time for him to confront the demons he kept running away from.

She pushed blonde curls off her forehead, and let out a sigh. “I’d better get out there. He should be headed back this way by now, since it’s after my bedtime.”

Smiling, Eric helped her stand. “I’d offer to go, but I get the feeling I’ll only be an awkward bystander.”

“Coward.”

“Guilty.” He bent down, kissed her stomach, and spread his hands over the enormous bulk. “Enjoy the beach, sweetheart. Your mom and I can’t wait to spend long summer days with you, building sandcastles, playing in the water.” He rubbed her stomach, slow, soothing, and arousing. Annie pulled away, since now was not the time to jump him. Just looking at him left her hot, and she didn’t need any more stimulation. Jumping him would have to wait until she got Zach sorted. “Don’t stay out too long. It’s damp tonight.”

“Yes, Dad.” Winking, she waddled to the front door, feeling like a bowling ball with legs, and took a thick, hand crocheted shawl off the coat rack, wrapping it around her. “We’ll be back soon. I hope.”

She left, enjoying the cool, fog-laced air on her flushed cheeks. Who knew pregnancy would turn her into a love machine? She smiled, started the short walk to the beach. Eric certainly wasn’t complaining.

The tile and stone chess table came into sight, set into a slab of concrete on the lawn that followed the curve of the boardwalk. Annie headed for one of the matching stone chairs, knowing Zach would have to pass by on his way to the house. Claire had trained him too well for him to ignore her. Easing herself to the cold seat, she settled in to wait.

Zach was not going to be happy to see her.

THREE

K
icking at the sand with his foot, Zach Wiche let himself sink deeper into pout mode.

Annie had been at him,
again
, to go and talk to Mom. This time he had to physically run away to get her to stop. And didn’t get dinner because of it.

He just couldn’t face his mom. Not after what he’d said. Not when he didn’t know what he’d say when he saw her again. Annie may have thought so, but six months was not long enough to accept everything he’d learned about himself the night he left.

How do I live with the fact that I was an angel? That I wanted to be human so badly I threatened and caused harm, and that Mom gave up her very essence so I could do it?

Talk about selfish.

He just wasn’t sure who he was mad at—her or himself. Or both.

With a sigh, he moved up the beach, swinging his tennis shoes in one hand. And halted when he saw Annie, sitting at the stone chess table next to the boardwalk. He let out a bigger sigh, and went to face whatever she had planned for him.

Annie stood, her stomach leading the way, one hand planted on the arm of the stone seat. She adjusted the long blue shawl she wore, a gift from his mom. He couldn’t get away from her completely, no matter how hard he tried. “Missed you at dinner, punk.”

Punk—it was her latest nickname for him. He missed being called bud, or sweetheart, or even Zach. She hadn’t used his name since he yelled at her, telling her to back off about Mom.

“I wasn’t hungry.” Actually, he was starving. He’d hoped to pick up something at Lily’s, but her tiny storefront takeaway was closed when he got there.

“Right. You are always hungry. It’s your natural state. Come on,” she said, tilting towards the sidewalk. “I saved a roast beef sandwich for you.” His stomach grumbled, giving him away. Laughing, Annie held out her hand, and Zach knew he was forgiven. For now. “You’ll eat, and I’ll talk. No.” She raised her hand as he opened his mouth to argue. “You will listen this time, and not run out mid-sentence. It’s been six months, and I can’t stand watching your mom, my best friend, suffer for saving your life.”

“She lied to me—”

“She was protecting you.”

Zach let out his breath, tried again. “She kept the truth from me.”

“And would you have believed her?” Annie stopped, holding her stomach. “Baby, you are getting too big for my britches.”

Panic shot through him. “You’re not—”

Laughter burst out of her. “Not right this second.” She draped one arm over his shoulders, leaned against him. Zach supported her around the waist—or where her waist used to be. She really was enormous. Not that he’d ever say that out loud. Again. “Thanks. Now keep holding on while we walk home. I do enjoy a captive audience.” He snorted, and Annie smiled. It faded, telling him he wouldn’t like what she said next. “It’s time for you to settle this.”

He was right. Those words shot his good mood to hell. Before he could pull away, she anticipated him, her fingers digging into his shoulder. “Annie—I can’t.”

“You can, Zach, and you will.” He stared at her, startled by the lack of snark. She sounded—concerned. It completely freaked him out. “Claire risked her life to help you, and believe me, at the time, you didn’t deserve it. The you that came back was a much improved version. But I see you headed back to that selfish, self-centered prick we first encountered. I don’t want that to happen to you. You’re a good kid, and you have too much going for you to blow it now.”

“Annie—God, was I that bad?” He remembered pieces of it, but not enough to put all the fragments together.

“We put a binding spell on you, punk.” That pretty much painted a clear picture of the former him. “Though you did heal Claire, and at the end, you did care. More than I thought you could.” Sighing, she leaned harder, and he felt her exhaustion, low and constant now. She was one of the few people he connected to on an emotional level—another side effect of his confrontation with the fire elemental. “I didn’t want to give you an ultimatum, Zach, but it’s been longer than even I expected. You are as stubborn as your mom.” He stiffened; part of him had been waiting for this since the day he knocked on her door. “Talk to her, or you’re out.”

“Okay.”

She looked at him, eyebrows raised. “That’s it? No argument, no excuses? I was so looking forward to a rousing argument. Eric hardly raises his voice around me, afraid he’ll traumatize the baby. I know he’s just storing it up for after.” Zach laughed, and a smile flashed across her face. “You don’t need to tell me I’ve been less than a joy to live with—
I
want to get away from me. How do women do this more than once?” She let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, thank God.”

The house Eric bought for her after they all came back from England appeared as they turned the corner. Half a block from the beach, it was big, rambling, and as eclectic as Annie. Zach could get lost in the half dozen rooms, spend hours in the ginormous library, and hide in the back bedroom when he needed solace.

All that just became a memory, unless he talked to Mom. And who knew what would come after? He may go home—or be forced to leave Santa Luna. He knew most of the outcome depended on how he acted, or reacted, to whatever Mom might dredge up. He did not want to know any more about his past; what he’d learned was depressing enough.

“Annie!” Eric ran down the long, sloping sidewalk. “You’ve been out in this damp too long. It’s not good for—”

“I’m fine, Eric. Stop fussing.” Zach’s mouth dropped open when she slapped Eric’s hand away. “I can damn well walk to the door of my own house by myself.” She jerked out of Zach’s grip and did just that.

Eric sighed, glanced over at him. “I can’t seem to do anything right, lately. That’s the pregnancy thing—I hope.”

Zach bit back a smile, and followed him into the house, ready for that roast beef sandwich. Then he had thinking to do. A lot of thinking.

*

C
laire opened her eyes. Her bedroom was dark, Marcus warm and solid next to her. She shifted on the bed, and smiled when the arm around her tightened. Even asleep, he felt her.

And she felt Zach.

One finger brushed the amethyst heart at her throat. Heat radiated from the crystal, warming her skin. It deepened the ache in her heart. She missed Zach; so badly it left her breathless at unexpected moments.

How could one person completely insert himself into her life? She had been on this earth for centuries, and even Annie, as much as Claire loved her, didn’t wrap her heart as completely as Zach.

With a quiet sigh, she eased out of Marcus’ embrace, slipped her robe on, and headed to the kitchen. After pouring a glass of water, she leaned against the counter, staring out the window. Zach was just a few blocks away, maybe looking at the moon, or hunched over his laptop. Claire knew he wasn’t asleep. Her amethyst only gave off that kind of heat when he was awake, and usually restless.

It was time to mend this break between them. She hurt too much from it, could barely get past the pain of it some days. Even if it ended with him leaving, at least there would be closure.

They both needed it, whether he thought so or not.

Setting the empty glass in the sink, she wandered out to the living room, and lowered herself to the sofa, wrapping both arms around her waist. The ache was back, sharp and breath-robbing.

I can’t live like this.

“Claire.” Marcus stood in the doorway, wearing only his black jeans, sleep tangled curls cloaking his bare shoulders. Before she could open her mouth to protest he crossed the living room and sat beside her, gathering her into his arms. “Your pain woke me, sweet.” His lips brushed her temple. “It hurts me, knowing I can do nothing for you.”

“Being here does more than you know.” She held on to him, closed her eyes. “I’m going to talk to him tomorrow, whether he wants to or not. I can’t do this anymore. It feels like my life is slowly disintegrating. And I know from Annie that Zach is not all charm and light.”

“Was he ever?”

She let out a choked laugh. “Most of the time, yes. Just not around you.” Brushing his curls back, she kissed his cheek. “Since you helped save my life, his opinion may have changed. Let’s go back to bed. I want to be clearheaded when I order him to get his bum back home.”

Marcus studied her, jade green eyes narrowed. “You are not planning to order him.”

“No, but I can fantasize.” For the first time since Zach left, she felt a real smile tug at her mouth.

“I assume you do not want me here when you have this talk.”

Her smile faded. “I know he would feel more comfortable if you were not. This is going to be difficult enough. I don’t want you to think I—”

“Am kicking me out, after just inviting me in?” He smiled, and the charm that was so much a part of him slid over her skin. “I will live with the temporary eviction.” His emphasis on temporary didn’t escape her.

Before she could stand he lifted her in his arms and carried her back to bed. Claire laid her head on his shoulder, feeling cared for, the knot of grief in her heart loosened. Marcus always knew what she needed, without smothering her. Spending the rest of her life with him—however long it may be—was going to be an adventure she looked forward to.

FOUR

S
tanding at the window, Claire watched Zach walk up the sidewalk to the front door. She had closed the shop early today, to get here before he arrived, wanting him to feel welcome, to know she cared.

She couldn’t get over how much he had changed in six months. Blonde streaks highlighted his shoulder length golden brown hair. The surprise of his tanned skin, when she thought he would always stay pale, told her he had been spending a great deal of his time away from her outside.

The biggest shock was the wide shoulders, and the lean, defined muscles in his arms. This was not the gentle boy who walked out of her house.

Her heart beat faster; she wrapped her fingers around the amethyst, feeling heat flare as he looked up, saw her in the window. He halted, and she saw panic skate across his face. Before she could move to the door, he started walking again, each step slower than the last.

By the time he reached the front door and rang the bell she stood waiting, yanking the door open before the bell finished chiming.

“Zach.” He met her eyes for a second, then stared down at his feet, one tennis shoe scuffing the porch. “Please, come in.”

Heaven above, she sounded so formal, like she was talking to a stranger. Up close she noticed that he was taller, the lines of his face more angular. As much as she wanted him not to, he was growing up, changing. And she wondered what he was doing that made such a difference, not only in the way he looked, but in his confidence.