Page 63 of The Last Love Song
“Afterward might have hurt you, Heather. Have you considered that?”
Gasping, she turned to him quickly. She couldn’t let him think that. Not even for an instant. “Actually, I asked the doctor about that very issue when you left. I don’t know why I turned into a tongue-tied teenager about sex, but it felt easier to quiz her on things like that without you in the room.” It was mostly true. She’d had questions about medications and side effects, too. If she had limited time in Heartache, she didn’t want to spend it being loopy and too tired to visit with her family and friends, but Dr. Ruiz thought she’d be fine.
“And?” Zach’s hazel eyes swung her way, a heated glance that torched her skin in spite of how tired she felt. How much her joints still ached.
“And we didn’t do anything wrong. Flare-ups can happen out of the blue. She said that exercise and movement are critical to maintaining good health.” Which had sounded like good news to Heather, but judging by Zach’s narrowed gaze, he wasn’t as enthused as she. “That’s a good thing, by the way. It means we don’t need to worry about sex causing problems as long as we don’t bring out a trapeze.”
Her attempt at humor fell flat. He simply grunted and continued to stare at the road.
Driving through downtown, Heather spotted Last Chance Vintage. Pumpkins surrounded the front door. Up above the street, the town had hung a sign advertising the harvest festival with a special theme this year—Lumberjack Days—to celebrate area woodsmen.
On the surface, small-community charm abounded. Underneath…many darker issues had cropped up lately.
Finally, Zach glanced her way again, making her realize he’d been thinking about what she’d said.
“How can you suggest we ‘not worry’ about this? It might be too late for that.” Zach turned off the main street and headed down the road toward the Finley families’ homes. “Sex already created some problems, don’t you think?”
At least they were done dancing around the subject. She’d been waiting for this to come up the whole way home.
“I thought it was pretty special,” she admitted.
He reached the cul-de-sac with her mother’s house and—behind that—her bungalow.
“Really?” He jammed the SUV in Park on the gravel driveway outside her house. “Is that why you were with me, Heather? Because it seems like the only reason you let yourself get close to me was because you knew we came with an expiration date. And once you’re done with Heartache, you’re going to be done with me, too.”
Zach didn’t waste any time waiting for an answer, levering his door open to go around and help her out of the vehicle.
His touch seemed mechanical, though. His help only for common courtesy’s sake. She hated that she’d hurt him.
“Zach, that’s not true.” She fished her keys from her purse and let herself in the house, then waved him in so she could retrieve her father’s old laptop. “Last night.”
He covered her lips with his fingers. Gently. But firmly. He shook his head wearily.
“Let’s wait before we talk about this anymore, okay? I’m tired, and I know you are, too. Frankly, between learning about Megan’s problems and this news about you, I’m shredded. If it’s just the same to you, I’d like to take the computer and regroup.”
She nodded. Because what more could she say? She was shredded, too. She hadn’t wanted to end up in the hospital last night. Hadn’t wanted their night together to end on this note. So, no matter that her whole body hurt, she dug in a storage closet stuffed with her father’s old office items.
She found his heavy, old laptop, and with burning fingers, handed it to Zach. “Here, I hope this helps all of us.”
“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes searching hers.
“I’ll be fine. Thank you for the ride.” She thought she might collapse if she didn’t lie down soon, but she was determined to see him out the door without falling apart.
Again.
Bad enough he’d seen her physically incapacitated. She wasn’t going to lose it emotionally, too.
“Feel better, Heather.” He laid a chaste kiss on her forehead.
The kind of kiss that felt like an end and not a beginning.
Calling up a half smile, she watched him walk out the door.
And knew she’d screwed things up irreparably with him.
Chapter Fifteen
Slumped over hernotes on graphing amplitude, Megan fought sleep. Trigonometry was her last class of the day. She never learned anything from Mrs. Wyman, a teacher who paced back and forth as she lectured, never varying her lecture pitch or speed. Megan had long given up trying to stay awake during the hypnotic pacing spells, learning everything she knew about trig from YouTube videos.
