Where the Blame Lies(72)

She brought the quilt around them, and they held each other as they watched a new day arrive.





CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO


They spent the day hiking, dipping their toes in the cold creeks they came across, and soaking in the peace of the surroundings. The landscape was elemental, raw, and it held a sort of simple honesty her spirit had needed.

Josie felt renewed, not only mentally but spiritually. In soul and in . . . body. She thought back to the night before, how much she’d wanted Zach. How beautiful he’d looked as he’d taken her in his arms and smiled at her. How at first the arousal had been like a surge of energy making her feel powerful, alive. How it was the laughter that had convinced her to lean in and kiss him. How things could have gone so badly, how she could have been left feeling more damaged than she had before. How in the end, he’d known just what she needed, how he’d helped her find healing—light—in the midst of the darkness that had begun to encroach.

He'd known, somehow, what she was experiencing and what to do to bring her back to herself, to trust him, to allow him to take the lead.

She’d waited a long time to feel ready to allow a man to touch her sexually, to trust her body in the hands of another who could hurt her if he wanted. And she discovered it wasn’t only sex she’d been afraid of. It was the response of her own body, the memories each part elicited. Her breasts had nursed a child under horrific circumstances, her stomach had stretched with her traumatic pregnancy, her thigh had been carved into, causing pain and heartache. Shame. Every part had been associated with contempt and desolation. She had been terrified to let someone touch her, to attempt to draw pleasure from the places that still represented such harrowing memories.

And yet . . . she’d discovered that she could still feel pleasure. That she wasn’t ruined as she’d once thought. In that way too, she was no longer a victim. And yes, she’d have to learn to fully trust again, but the relief that filled her that morning at the knowledge that she wasn’t permanently and irrevocably broken, could hardly be described. To her, the reawakening of her body filled her with a glorious sense of hope.

And yes, it scared her too because it hadn’t just been her body that had opened to him, it had been her heart.

They sat on two rocks at the summit of the trail they’d hiked, the sun high in the sky as Zach bit off a piece of beef jerky. He chewed thoughtfully, chewed some more . . . and some more. Josie laughed. Zach looked at her, his expression bemused, if not slightly panicked as he continued to chew.

“I think you just have to force it down,” Josie said, a laugh in her voice, hoping she wasn’t going to have to give him the Heimlich out here in the middle of nowhere.

Zach swallowed with obvious effort and then put the dried beef back in the backpack he was carrying. He met her eyes, his lip twitching before he let out a laugh. Her stomach flipped. He was so incredibly handsome, his olive skin smooth and burnished under the midday sun, his short hair glinting blue black in the shifting light. She tilted her head. She wished things could stay the same but knew they couldn’t. “When we get back, things will be different, won’t they?” she asked, her heart trembling with the knowledge that it wouldn’t always be like this, that this time was temporary. Zach’s feelings for her might be temporary too, though she’d told herself that morning as she’d stood at the railing watching the new day arrive, that she would try not to feel sad about that. The gifts he’d already given her were so precious and plentiful. And the truth was, though she craved it, maybe she wasn’t quite ready for more than what they’d shared either. She looked out to the horizon.

“I don’t know. I . . . things might be complicated. We’ll have to . . .” He sighed and she looked back at him as he ran a hand over his short hair. “We’ll have to see what’s what when we get back.”

She nodded.

“Hey,” he said, reaching out and taking her hands in his, obviously reading her disappointment. “I can’t afford to do anything that might sacrifice your safety or get in the way of solving this case. When this is all over, we’ll figure it out, okay?”

Josie nodded again. “Josie,” he said. “Trust me.”

She looked back at him, her gaze moving over his beautiful face. “I do,” she said honestly. And amazingly, she had from the first moment she’d met Zach. He’d looked her in the eye and had been honest without sugarcoating his words. Yes, he’d been cautious, but rather than belittling her, he’d used discretion and instinct, and she’d appreciated that.

They walked back to the cabin where they spent the afternoon making love. She couldn’t get enough of him, couldn’t get enough of the way he elicited pleasure from her body—the body she thought was incapable of feeling that type of pleasure ever again. They didn’t have any more condoms, but she was on the pill. There was really no reason for her to be on birth control. She hadn’t slept with anyone in eight years and thought maybe she never would. But she admitted to herself then that being on the pill had represented the control over her own fertility . . . in case. Being on the pill had represented the fear that something bad could happen to her again. That life was unpredictable, that her safety was always at risk. That’s what a violent crime did to a person, Josie mused. It altered their entire world view. People always said things like, “Everything will work out,” or, “That won’t happen.” But what about when things didn’t work out? Or when the unthinkable did happen? You had to walk around with the knowledge that life could sweep the rug out from under you at any moment. It could, because it had.