Vital Sign (23 page)

“No. I don’t believe that.” I can hear feet shuffling against the cement. “Just—just tell me if you had anything to do with Jacob Parker’s death,” Zander whispers, barely loud enough for me to hear.

I clasp my hand over my mouth
to stifle the gasp that tried to escape. My knees weaken and I lean harder against the brick, relying on it to hold me up against the weight of what I’m hearing.

“I may have done what I had to do
and paid who I had to pay to get you that heart, but I did not do anything beyond that. What you’re implying sickens me, Alexander,” Governor McBride hisses in a shaky voice.

“Swear it,” Zander demands. “Swear it right now, right here on my life
, that you didn’t arrange what happened to him or have any sort of preexisting knowledge of how he was killed.”

“I. Swear. It
,” Governor McBride bites out, spewing copious amounts of his own venom.

I wipe a tear from my cheek and step out from my hiding spot to face them. Their eyes snap to me and I stare back at them
, trying hard to find the right words.

“What did you do?” I whisper.

“Ah, fuck,” Zander groans, taking a step towards me. “Sadie, baby, come on. Let’s go, okay?” Zander tries coaxing me to him, but my eyes are locked with Governor Daniel McBride’s.

“What did you do?” I repeat.

Zander runs both hands through his hair and looks from me to his dad then back to me. He puts one hand low on his hip and leans against the brick.

“Tell her,” he orders his
father. “Tell her how I got so lucky, Dad.”

“I wouldn’t change it,” Governor McBride says hoarse
ly, looking from me then to Zander. “You’re my son,” he croaks, sounding emotional. “What happened to your husband was a tragedy and a loss for this city, but the circumstances surrounding his death are a mystery to me just like they are to you,” he points his finger at me. “I had a chance to save my son and I made sure he got a heart as quickly as possible. I may have done the wrong thing, but I’d do it again.” He brushes his hands over his cheeks harshly, sniffling away the emotion that has slipped out from beneath his public persona. He takes one more look at Zander and me then goes back into the building.

The ride back to the hotel is silent. My mind is reeling with what I heard outside and I can tell that Zander’s is going a mile a minute too.

The Lincoln comes to a stop and the driver comes around to let us out. Zander exits first, then holds his hand out for me. I look at it from the edge of the leather seat then up to those sapphire eyes that have so much power over me. His brows furrow slightly, his eyes pleading with me to take his hand, and I find that I can’t refuse him. He’s a victim in this situation too. I’m upset, I think, that he didn’t even try to tell me about his dad buying his position on the transplant list.

I slip my hand into his
, watching as his chest visibly deflates with relief. His hand holds onto mine tightly, almost as if he worries that I’ll slip away if he lets go. I don’t like seeing him so unsure, so hurt, but I’m hurt too and I need answers.

He shoves the plastic key card into the lock and it opens on the first try. He holds the door open for me.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that he arranged your transplant? Why?” I demand, turning to pace the floor.

“It isn’t that easy, Sadie.”

“Yeah, I think it could have been. It definitely would have been easier than this shit,” I huff and toss my clutch onto the chair closest to me.

             
“I’m not brave, okay?” he raises his voice. “Dammit!”

I cross my arms and wait for him to go on.

“I’ve been doing this balancing act since I first started talking to you. Scared to show you the shit that’s in here,” he points his finger at his temple, “and even more scared to tell you what’s going on in here.” He motions toward his chest and it makes me heart ache. “I’m scared that if you know everything about me, if you see the real me, you won’t want anything to do with me. Just like everyone else I know,” he mumbles weakly as he turns towards the panoramic windows and scrubs his hands across his jaw. When he turns again to face me, my heart aches at seeing him so emotional.

If I’m sorrow
, he’s torment, and neither of us have much hope or confidence in anything, especially ourselves.

“I’ve been
fighting against the ghost of him every goddamned day, Sadie! Every day! It’s more than I can handle. I’m not Jake! I’m no saint. I don’t lead some virtuous life full of good deeds and friends and family who would vouch for me at the drop of a hat. I’m fighting an invisible enemy that I know I have no hopes of defeating, but here I am. I’m begging you for one ounce, one fucking iota, of hope!” Zander is red-faced and looks like he’s on the edge of coming undone. “You think I don’t hate this too? You think I don’t hate that I’m not the most deserving man to get another shot at a life that I’ve already fucked up? You think I don’t feel like shit for having his heart and now falling for
his wife
? You’d be sorely mistaken. I hate myself for it every time I look in the mirror. Every time I close my eyes and imagine you next to me for the rest of my existence. Every time I have to resist the urge to take your hand, bring it to my lips, and swear on my life that I can make you happy given half the chance. Every time.”

His confession makes my skin tingle with joy and sadness. He’s not Jake and I know that. I
know
that it’s not his fault. I know that what he feels, what I feel, isn’t something that can be helped. It’s involuntary.

“Zander,” I whisper
, my lips and voice quivering. The tattered heart in my chest speeds and sputters.

“Don’t you understand
, Sadie?” he murmurs, coming close enough to run his thumb over my cheek. “Whatever this is between us, it’s inescapable. You can deny me if you insist, but that’s one truth that neither one of us can deny.”

“I—I can’t. I have so much to work out. My head is all over the place, Zander,” I whimper tearfully. “I wish I could just snap my fingers and be what you need me to be, what I need me to be but I—I don’t know
. I feel so guilty,” I sob.

Zander sighs
, exasperated.

“What do you want from me
?” I snap through my tears and recoil away from him, gaining a foot of distance.

Zander winces at my response and purses his lips together.
“I’m asking you to brave here, Sadie,” he finally answers in a whispered plea.

“I don’t know if I can. I’m trying. I just don’t know if I can do what you want me to do.”

Zander groans and scrubs his angular jaw again in frustration. “Then what do you want? Do you want me to act like some monster so you can walk away? Do you want me to be some asshole so you can run away from me without even looking back? Without regret? Do you want me to end this so you won’t have to come up with the courage to let it happen?” He thrusts his arms out to the side and holds them there like he’s waiting for me to answer him.

I can’t respond. I can’t even form words. I’m standing here
like scared little girl, shaking and wishing I knew what to say. He’s right. He’s so right. I’m pathetic.

“If that’s what you want from me
, you can fucking forget about it!” he snaps as he turns away again and paces to the window and back.

I standing here waiting for something to break, for something to give, for a fucking light
bulb moment that will clarify all of this for us.

“I won’t make this easy for you
,” he says, his voice hoarse with conviction. “I won’t let you take the easiest, quickest route out of my life all because you’re too damn scared to let this happen. Dammit, Sadie! I’m the one that isn’t worth a damn, but I’m willing to risk heartbreak just to try it with you.” Zander turns on his heels and runs his hands through his hair, facing the panoramic view of the city.

“I’m
—I-I can’t do this,” I sputter. “I just can’t. I tried. I thought maybe I could let myself see where things would go, but I can’t. This is all so fucked up. I love Jake. I still love him so much and the guilt—”

“Jake is dead, Sadie!” Zander yells loudly
, cutting me off.

How dare he talk to me like that?

“I know!” I shout, fighting hard against the growing lump in my throat. “I fucking know that! Okay? He’s gone and he’s never coming back to me!”

“Come on, Sadie. You’re breaking my heart here. Please
just stop and think about this,” Zander urges softly.

“Your heart
, huh?” I sneer, laughing condescendingly at the mention of his heart. I’m so sick of thinking, dreaming, and remembering that heart! I’m ready to pull my goddamned hair out. Maybe I’m having some sort of breakdown. I just can’t do this shit anymore. Something has got to give here and I think my sanity is first in line.

“W
hy are you so determined to fight this?” he questions, looking back at me from his place by the window.

I don’t acknowledge his question. Not that I could respond if I wanted to
, because he’s just asked me the same exact question I’ve been asking myself for who knows how long. The time that I’ve spent with Zander has seemed to stall, fast forward, and rewind, leaving me constantly disoriented. It began with an email. I sent a simple, to the point email and the intrigue began as soon as he emailed me back with a short, to the point email of his own. He didn’t apologize profusely. He didn’t use kid gloves with me. He made me feel normal and a little less lonely. Meeting him in person on the beach only planted the hook. He was handsome and brooding but clearly alone like me. Coming together with Zander was the most effortless thing I’ve ever done.

I wish I could rid myself of guilt and love and all the other feelings that surround my life with Jake
, and without Jake, but I can’t. Or maybe I won’t. Maybe it’s both. Maybe my frustration over everything has nothing at all to do with Zander. Maybe it’s because I want him so damn much. Maybe it’s because I miss Jake, or maybe it’s that I don’t miss Jake nearly as much when I’m with Zander. Maybe it’s the damned guilt I feel for knowing that Zander soothes my heart and soul in a way that’s just as addictive as any street drug. Maybe it’s the guilt that I feel for wanting more of him. All of him.

“You want to know what I think?”
he says, interrupting my analyzing.

“Not really,” I mumble weakly, not inclined to argue with him anymore.

“Yeah, well, you’re getting it. I think you’re scared,” he says, stepping close to me. His hands cup my cheeks and he tilts my head, forcing me to look at him. “I think you’re so damn scared of allowing me even an inch of leeway because you don’t want to feel guilty. Since you came into my life, all you’ve done is make it a point to let me know how great Jake was. How he was your only love. How he touched you. How he would have been a great dad. How he didn’t deserve what he got. How you miss him. And I couldn’t agree more, but making me feel an inch tall doesn’t bring him back and ignoring what we have here doesn’t make it disappear. It won’t take this heart from me and put it back in his chest. It won’t change what I
know
you feel here.”

“I don’t feel anything
here
except frustration. You don’t know what this feels like,” I jerk away and snap at him, knowing that he’s right and I’m nothing more than a spineless coward too afraid to let him in for fear that my life with Jake will fade out completely and I would have something worth being happy about. Something worth losing. Something that could crush me if I did ever lose it. I can’t lose somebody again.

“Look at me and tell me that you don’t feel a damn thin
g going on between us. Go ahead. And I don’t mean just the physical stuff, Sadie. I mean what’s in
here
.” His hand motions back and forth between us, then points at his own chest while his sapphire eyes take aim and seem to peer right into me, forcing me to swallow hard. 

“Stop it,” I growl through gritted teeth
, shaking my head. “Shut your arrogant mouth!” Tears pool, making my vision blurry.

“No
,” he replies simply. “I know you won’t say it because you can’t. You want the truth? You’re right. I don’t deserve a second chance at life. He deserved to live a long life right beside you, to have kids, all of it. I’m the last motherfucker in the world who deserves another chance at life. I’m not a good man, Sadie. I lived fast and burned bridges faster. I’ve left a path of women in my wake a mile wide. I partied hard and fucked harder.
There
. That’s the person that your husband’s heart saved. So go ahead and hate me. You certainly can’t ever hate me more than I hate myself. Black sheep, remember?” he says, pointing to himself with a self-depreciating smirk.

It wounds me. I don’t like him thinking that way about himself. I want so badly to make him think of himself the way I think of him.
I wish he could view himself the way that I do. Then he’d see how much he has to give.

My lips part
, but words won’t come out. I’m shaking. My palms are sweaty. I’m not sure what to say. I’m taken aback not by what he’s just said, but by what it made me feel. For a moment, anger edged back and sadness for him flooded my mind. I don’t feel angry right now. I don’t feel anything really except shock and sadness over what he’s just said. My head is spinning.

Zander’s chest heaves up and down rapidly. “If you think for one second that I wanted this, you’re wrong,” he
grumbles, shrugging out of his jacket. I watch in silence as my sweet black sheep tosses it to the chair where my clutch is then turns back to face me again. He’s frustrated and hurt too and despite my inability to attend to my own frustration and sadness, I want to help Zander. I just don’t know how. I feel captive. I feel pushed. I feel squeezed. I feel cornered.

I take a cautious step back but he instantly steps forward, closing the space between us
. I can feel the heat and frustration radiating from him. His breathing is uneven and he seems to be trembling just as much as I am.

Before I have a chance to even think, he grips his shirt at the front and rips it open
, sending buttons skipping across his floor in all directions. My eyes instinctively look towards the floor to watch where buttons have flown. When I look up, I find myself staring at the same man who ripped his shirt open like a caveman, except he’s not frustrated. The look on his face is one that I’ve not seen yet.

Anguish.
Pure anguish.

Tears glisten in his dark blue eyes.
He steps even closer to me, leaving only an inch or two of space for me to call mine. His eyes bore into me as he shrugs his shoulders up and down a few times, easily slipping out of the fabric. I watch it drop to the floor and do my best to compose myself.

“Look at it,” he demands softly
.

I know exactly what he
’s talking about. I haven’t seen his scar yet and I’m not quite sure that I’m ready to see the marred chest that was split open to welcome in a new heart. New to him, anyway. It damn sure wasn’t new to me. I’ve known that heart since childhood.

I loved that heart.

That’s the heart that loved me right back.

“Look at it, Sadie,” he repeats
, demanding.