Zach sat in silence, considering his options or his next words, she wasn’t sure which. Then he let out a long sigh.
“Courtney and I haven’t had sex in over two years,” Zach began. “And we haven’t made love for a whole lot longer than that.”
“Wait a minute,” Sarah pulled away, uncomfortable with the change in subject. “Do I really need to hear this?”
“You asked.” He shot her a second dark look.
“Fair enough.” She draped her arm over the back of the wide seat and faced him, giving him her full attention. “Go on—I think.”
“Long story short, Courtney blames you.”
“Me?” Confused, Sarah flattened her hand against the leather seat to prevent her body from sliding to the floorboards in utter disbelief.
“She claims I’ve been different since the day you and I met.”
“That’s crazy talk.”
“Is it?” He finally turned and regarded her with his no-nonsense, unwavering eyes.
“Well, I mean, okay, we’re friends,” Sarah sputtered, taken aback by the unexpected turn in the conversation. “And we understand each other pretty well…”
“We get each other, McKee.”
“Aye. I suppose we do.”
“No games. No pretending. It’s just there.” He shrugged. “Like a fact.”
“It is. But I would never—” Sarah broke off and pointed at his chest and then at hers and then back again as she struggled for words. “I mean, we’re friends, Zach. So I would never do anything like—”
“I know you wouldn’t.”
“Aye. Never.” Sarah let out a puff of air and looked up at the visor. Her vision blurred. “That’s ridiculous.”
But was it? Her comment hung in the air between them, as if waiting to be refuted.
“Poor old Courtney is up there in rehab,” Zach continued. “And horny old me is down here jumping your bones on Hood Mountain, at the wine auction, at the Wolf House—in fact, all over town.”
Sarah flushed at the image of Zach jumping her bones. She had to admit, the prospect of kissing Zach had entered her mind a couple of times. But the scenario had been such an off-limits, one-sided fantasy that she had quashed it as soon as it had bloomed.
Fantasy had no place in her data-driven world. Plus, her fantasies were fueled by a faulty endocrine system, not reality. Better to let her hormones settle down before they cut a swath of destruction through her circle of friends.
Then again, the fantasy wasn’t completely one-sided, apparently. Zach had just admitted to a deep connection with her. Or maybe she had misunderstood what he had said.
This conversation was confusing the hell out of her.
There was too much data to process. She had to put the new information aside until she could analyze it. The only way to do that was to keep things light—for both their sakes.
“Sounds exhausting,” she managed to drawl. “What we’ve been up to all over town.”
“Doesn’t it? But that’s what she thinks is going on. And it must have been the reason—or her excuse, anyway—for falling off the wagon. And I mean, falling off big time.”
It was Sarah’s turn to swallow. She glanced at Zach, reluctant to look deep in his eyes and lock into his being as she could so easily do. His current emotional state was far too precarious.
“What did she do?” she finally asked, not really wanting to know.
“She was on her way somewhere with most of our bank account and an old friend—an old friend with a blood alcohol level off the charts.”
“The real estate guy?”
“Yeah. Andrew What’s-His-Name. He was driving. Apparently, he pulled out in front of a semi. Killed instantly. Courtney was thrown clear across Lakeville Highway. Sheriff Bradley made sure I knew they found her boyfriend with his pants unzipped. But that could have happened during the collision. Maybe.”
Sarah fell silent. All she could do was shake her head in shock.
“There were two suitcases in the trunk,” Zach went on. “Hers and his. Don’t know where they were planning to go, but it sure wasn’t home to their respective spouses. I could tell Sheriff Bradley was aching to say something to me, but it’s a good thing he didn’t. I’d be in jail for assault.”
“What a way to find out.”
“Tell me about it.” He sighed. “I’ve tried hard with her, Sarah. But it’s over. I don’t want to give her flowers. I don’t even want to see her face.”
“Maybe if you talked this out…”
“Nope. I’m done talking.”
“You can’t just abandon her in the hospital, Zach. She needs you.”
“That’s the irony, isn’t it? If I turn my back on her now, I’ll look like the bad guy.”
“You will.”
“Yeah.”
“Take her the flowers. You’re a decent man, Zach. Keep being one. This will all play out.”
“Yeah.”
The situation could play out all right, with a bleak future for Zach should Courtney wake up to paralysis or brain damage. Or not at all. Sarah didn’t want to contemplate that kind of future for anyone.
Sensing that she should leave Zach to make his own decision about the flower delivery, Sarah opened the passenger door and pivoted to jump out. But she turned back around at the last minute. “Do you want to have a taco with me, Zach? Maybe it’ll help to eat something.”
“I would. But I don’t want people to talk. You know what folks are like around here.”
“I’ve got first-hand knowledge. Aye.” She mustered a smile as she remembered the way gossip had flown around town concerning her alleged pregnancy.
“Want a ride to that taco, though?” He raised a brow, switching back to his more usual, easy-going self.
“Thanks, but I’m determined to beat my best step count.”
“Good for you.” He put the truck in gear. “I’ll be at the Wolf House later, if you want a nightcap.”
“Really? You’re going to bartend tonight?”
“Working’ll take my mind off everything.” He tried to smile, but humor did not make it up to his eyes. “And it’s Hamburger Friday tomorrow. Don’t forget, Goldilocks.”
“Like I ever would.” She slipped out of the truck and dropped to the ground, grateful for the light banter that allowed her to make an exit. She wished she knew what to say to Zach to make it all better but was pretty sure such words hadn’t been invented yet.
Though a conversation with Zach always made her day—current conversation excluded—even she knew that a nightcap at the Wolf House was a bad idea. Being alone with Zach now was a ‘no can do,’ to quote Wesley Leslie III. She’d have to make sure Kelley was with her when she talked with him in the future.
“See you tomorrow, Sullivan,” she said, waving.
He gave her a salute.
They were back to the carefully toed line that separated them. It was safer to retain her distance from Zach—and the only decent option she had in light of Courtney’s misfortune. But right now, the chasm on either side of that line seemed painfully wide.
She waited for Zach’s truck to roll onto the highway, and then she took off for El Molino Central. She knew that once she got to the cafe, she would turn around and head back home without dinner. Her appetite had vanished.
Sarah pushed into a jog as her mind swirled with fragments of her conversation with Zach. She shouldn’t dwell on what had just happened in Zach’s truck. That chat had been an exception, not the rule. Better to forget everything he had said. She should concentrate on running. On her breathing.
But she kept seeing Zach’s serious, intelligent eyes and that look on his face when he had said that they understood each other.
“Like a fact,” he had said.
“Get a grip, McKee,” she admonished herself. His confession hadn’t involved passion or romance. Or even a come-on. He had just stated a fact.
And facts were her forte.
Sarah broke into a sprint. To escape her churning thoughts, she suspected she might have to run all night. She forced herself to look at the bright side. More running meant more steps.
All good.
* * *
Sarah was mere blocks from the restaurant when she saw a Sonoma County SUV pull over to the opposite side of the road and stop. The window rolled down and Kelley stuck out her head.
“Sarah!” Kelley called.
Sarah puffed to a halt, surprised to see her friend.
“I hate to interrupt the marathon,” Kelley shouted. “But Sheriff Bradley wants to see you.”
Sarah jogged across the two-lane highway. “Why?”
“It’s Emilio Diaz. He’s probably not going to make it. But he wants to tell you something.”
“Like what?”
“We don’t know. He’s asked for you. And a priest. Won’t speak to anyone else.”
“Jesus.”
“Well, He might show up, too, if Emilio is lucky. But come on.” Kelley waved her forward. “Get in.”
“I can’t go to a hospital all sweaty like this.”
“I’ll zip you home to change.”
Sarah hurried around the front of the SUV and jumped into the seat. “I was going to do eight miles today,” Sarah complained, pulling on the seatbelt. “But it looks like the gods are against me.”
“Those damn gods,” Kelley grinned. “What about if we walk later? I need some exercise. And some therapy.”
Therapy? Sarah glanced at her friend. Not Kelley, too. Maybe emotional trauma was going around like a virus. She had to wonder.
But her mind soon switched to Emilio Diaz. Why had he asked for her on his deathbed? The situation was eerily similar to Landon Harris and his mysterious letter. Did Emilio have a similar request to make of her? Or a confession?