Page 78 of Shattered Hearts

I explain JodiAnne and Marci were also patients at Quiet Meadows, both of them dead. The change of subject is welcome. I can’t talk about Savannah and not think of Troy and Meredith taking their own lives.

“How are they connected?”

I frown. “Only by Quiet Meadows as far as I know. That, and their families are wealthy, but that’s not much of a correlation. You have to be rich to afford Quiet Meadows. Though, JodiAnne’s mother kept saying JodiAnne was insistent someone was after her. That they were going to kill her. We didn’t talk to Marci’s mother for very long, but she let me page through Marci’s diary and she said the same thing. She thought she was being watched—that someone was following her. Savannah’s fiancé said something similar. No one took them seriously because of their mental health.”

“Someone who worked at Quiet Meadows?”

“I don’t know, but that seems the most likely.” I slide the pictures back into their files. They’re dead cases now, pardon the grotesque pun. There’s nothing more we can do for them. Dead and buried. Well, maybe not buried. It’s too cold to dig into the ground, but their deaths are in the past, their families moving forward. I wonder if Marci’s mother would let me have her diary. I doubt it, and I don’t have time to go through it. I still have to pack up Max’s apartment. It’s a surprise my mother hasn’tgotten in touch to set up a time after agreeing to help me. “Do you feel like someone’s following you?”

Zarah shakes her head. “No, but I don’t go anywhere alone.”

“That’s true. JodiAnne didn’t, either. She had her . . . nurse.” I stop. “We questioned him, though. Except . . .”

“What?”

I dig through JodiAnne’s file. “He worked at Quiet Meadows before it closed. Fuck.”

“You think that’s more than a coincidence?”

“We didn’t, not back then.” I scan my notes and the conclusions Pop and I drew after we spoke to Jason Bellamy. “But since we talked to him, two more girls are dead. Speaking of nurses, any news about Ingrid?”

I feel like shit I told Zane I would look into her disappearance and haven’t started yet. My brain is zooming in a hundred different directions and I can’t focus on anything or get anything done. As much as I hate to admit it, Pop’s right. I need to let Zarah do her own thing for a few days.

“No. It’s like she dropped off the planet.”

“Do you miss her?”

“Yeah. I thought we were friends, but she left and didn’t look back.”

I wrap my arms around her. “I’m sorry.”

Shrugging, she says, “It’s okay. She was only hired help, right? Zane was paying her to be my companion. I guess that’s all she wanted, and after that dried up, she took off.”

“Yeah, but it still sucks. Come on, let’s grab some food. You still want to spend the night?” Our argument about Zane and the video comes back to me, and a pit hollows out my stomach. Out of anything we could break up over, her choosing Zane over me seems like a situation that could very well become a reality. I thought maybe Rourke would shove a wedge between us, or her money, or when she’s finally off the drugs she’d decide I’m notgood enough, but her choosing her brother could be the realest scenario of them all. She’d never hurt Zane because hurting her brother means hurting Stella. Zarah would gnaw her arm off her body before she hurt Stella.

That leaves me shit outta luck.

“Yes. If you still want me to.”

I could use the break to catch up, but she’s frail in my arms, a tiny bird, and the thought of us being separated, no matter the length of time, breaks my heart wide open. When I say I’m in love with Zarah Maddox, it’s not just lip service. It’s not me saying the words. She’s all I can think about, she’s everything I want, and that doesn’t change simply because I don’t see this working out for us. Helping her get her life back will be my greatest achievement, but watching her move on with someone else will ruin me.

All I want is for her to be happy, finally living the life she deserves, but I know deep down where I don’t like to go, that if she finds happiness with another man, I’ll never recover.

I brush the hair out of her eyes, my fingers lingering around her temple.

“What is it?” she asks softly, pressing my hand against her cheek.

“I’m scared, Zarah. I’m scared of what’s going to happen next.”

She launches herself against my chest, nearly knocking me backward onto the floor.

Baby yelps in surprise, then hops to her feet, thinking we’re playing a game.

Zarah hugs me, her breath warm against my neck. “I am too, Gage. I am, too.”

I wake up buried deep inside her, her legs and arms encasing me to the point I can barely move. I hope I’m covered because my brain is swamped with sleep and I can’t remember tearing the packet open or sheathing myself. I don’t pause to check, and I pump, long, steady glides.

She whimpers in my ear. “Don’t stop.”

---