“Are you his wife?” Gracie asked, her stare returning to Zack.

It was the longest she’d ever looked at him at one time. She seemed to study him dispassionately. Almost as if she were analyzing him. What astonished him, though, was the look of pity she gave Eliza when she asked if Eliza was his wife. God, just what sort of sick fuck did she think he was?

Eliza let out a laugh. “Wife? Oh Lord no. I love him to pieces but we’d kill one another in the first twenty-four hours. We work together. Have been for a while now.”

Her expression grew confused again. He could see questions in her eyes but she closed her lips in a firm line and turned her face away from them both.

With a sigh, he held out the soup bowl to Eliza, and when she took it, he walked around to the opposite side of the bed so that Gracie was between them. Gracie averted her gaze to the ceiling as if shutting them both out.

One eyebrow cocked, Eliza shot him a quick look that clearly said, What now?

Zack pulled up the only other chair in the room and sat so close to the bed that he could prop his arm on the rail.

“Eat, Gracie. Eliza won’t bite. She’s the very best kind of person. If you won’t believe it of me, at least give her the benefit of the doubt.”

But first he needed to elevate her bed so she wouldn’t be wearing her meal.

He fiddled with the buttons on the side of the bed until he found the one that raised the head.

“I’m going to lift you up a bit so you can eat,” he said. “Let me know when to stop and tell me if it causes you more pain.”

Not waiting for a response, he pressed the button and a whirring sound started as the head half of the bed slowly elevated. At the first movement, Gracie’s hand flew to the railing as if to steady herself. Then she relaxed more, waited a moment and said, “That’s good.”

She sagged against the pillow and took several shallow breaths.

“Hurt?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. It’s . . . better, actually.”

What a concession it must have been for her to speak directly to him. It beat screaming at him, or accusing him of doing whatever the hell it was he’d done, but then again, her yelling at him would be better than this icy silence between them.

He was silently begging her to talk to him. To tell him what had gone so horribly wrong in their relationship.

“Think you can handle it or do you want me to spoon it to you?” Eliza asked gently.

A rose color bloomed in Gracie’s cheeks, or at least the few places she wasn’t colored purple. She lowered her gaze as if shamed. Then she looked back up and slowly reached for the bowl.

“I can do it,” she said quietly.

She wiggled just a bit, repositioning herself before taking the bowl from Eliza’s grasp. Then she sank back down against the bed, seemingly exhausted from such a small task.

He was absolutely going to heed the doctor’s instructions to a T. And he’d use her period of recovery to wrestle whatever demons she had. Not to mention his own, since it was obvious that he was her demon.

Each spoonful was painstakingly and slowly rendered. The hand holding the spoon shook, splashing some of the soup onto the sheet covering her lap.

Eliza immediately rose and ducked into the bathroom to get a towel. Then she placed it over Gracie’s lap so any further spillage wouldn’t get the sheets wet.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Eliza asked after a long period of silence.

Gracie was so shaken from her question that she dropped the spoon. Thankfully she’d already sipped the contents and had been on her way for another spoonful.

“The police have come by already,” Zack interjected. “They asked me to call them as soon as she woke up so she can give them a statement.”

Gracie closed her eyes and a thin stream of tears leaked down her bruised cheeks.

Eliza immediately took the hand that had been holding the spoon and she squeezed it but didn’t let it go. Instead she rested their linked hands on the mattress at Gracie’s side.

“Would you prefer then to wait until they arrive so you don’t have to repeat it?” Eliza asked.

“I don’t know anything,” Gracie said in a bleak voice. “One minute I was there. Alone. The next minute they were there. I don’t even remember most of what happened afterward. Just the horrific fear that it could happen again.”

Zack immediately stiffened. “That what could happen again?”

Gracie closed her eyes and the hand Eliza held went white as she squeezed Eliza’s. Hard. But Eliza didn’t even flinch or act like she noticed.

All the color had leached from her face and she looked very much like she was going to be sick again. Eliza must have picked up on that fact as well because she immediately made a grab for the basin by the bed.

She merely slid it onto Gracie’s lap, taking the bowl that was still half full and putting it away.

“Gracie?” Zack prompted. “What could happen again?”

“In my worst imaginations did I ever think you capable of the things you’ve done, but to sit there and act like you don’t know, that you’re innocent . . .”

She turned her warm chocolate eyes on him, emotion simmering, shiny with unshed tears.

“Why, Zack? Did you hate me that much? Could you not just have broken up with me? Were you afraid I’d turn into some psycho stalker? Or were you worried I would make you look bad when you entered the pros? God, what you must have thought of me.”

She turned away again, tears running in endless streams. Zack was so dumbfounded by her barrage of heated questions that he couldn’t even form a coherent sentence. Eliza immediately found his gaze, her question evident but not vocalized. Did he want her to leave?

As much as he’d like her to do just that so he and Gracie would be alone to hash everything out, he knew that if he rushed this, he was going to lose big. He had to gain her trust in some way. No matter what it took.

He gave a quick shake of his head but kept his gaze fastened on Gracie and her tear-stained and bruised face.

“Gracie, look at me please,” Eliza said in a firm but gentle tone.

With seeming reluctance, Gracie complied.

Eliza gave her hand another squeeze. “Listen to me, hon. I don’t know what happened in your past. Only you know that. But what I do know is that Zack has looked for you—thought about you—every day for the last twelve years. He’s a good man. The very best. And he’s worried about you for so very long. Will you at least talk to him?”