Hard(60)

I didn’t want to be without him.

Zach rolled me over and spread my legs.

“Again,” he whispered. “Shay, again.”

We’d deny the heartbreak for a little longer.





Everything was easier with money.

Lunch at Atlanta’s fanciest restaurant with my attorney, a representative from the bank, and my father’s chief investment officer? Easy as a phone call.

A limo ride from my house to the meeting? The estate came with a driver.

A salon trip to look halfway presentable? A stylist came to the mansion.

But actually getting the money? That was much harder.

William introduced me to Beth Hartly, my father’s pretty redheaded investor of choice. While she worked over the agreement with the trust, Albert Wright, our banking representative, ordered another round of escargot for the table.

I was more a chili-cheese fries type of girl.

And, after one bite of the shelled creations on the plate? My stomach agreed.

I excused myself to the restroom as my financial and legal teams discussed how to untangle my trust from my father’s graduation clause. I darted into the stall before the escargot slithered its way back out.

Not pleasant.

Especially with an attendant waiting in the washroom to assist the restaurant’s patrons. It probably wasn’t in her job description to help them to their feet after they threw up half their lunch. She offered me a clean, warm cloth and said nothing as I washed and dried my face.

It didn’t soothe me. My stomach still fluttered. Maybe the escargot turned into butterflies.

I’d have to Google exactly what the hell I ate when I returned to the table.

If I made it to the table. Gross. My stomach still hadn’t settled. I hid in the stall again. To her credit, the attendant said nothing. I shakily emerged. This time I gave a nervous shrug.

“The food really is excellent here…” Awkward. “Don’t take that as a Yelp review.”

“We’re pleased to hear it, Miss.”

I hurried out of the restroom, grateful for the refilled ice water at my seat. I didn’t press it against my flushed forehead, but I guzzled it and tried to freeze whatever upset my stomach. Too bad I couldn’t blame the snails—they made me eat snails? This was the third day I wasn’t feeling great. Too much stress, too little sleep.

Not nearly enough Zach.

“Well, Shay,” William said. “Looks like this will be an easy fix. Your father intended the inheritance to be awarded at an appropriate age, whenever you’d require it. We can agree a college graduation was an arbitrary date, especially as he…seemed to forget precisely when you would graduate. As you’re twenty-one and he has regrettably passed, his requirements are satisfied. Provided Mr. Harden also agrees to the change in terms, your trust can be released.”

“Zach has to agree?” I asked.

“I hope that won’t be an issue?”

“He should be okay with it.”

“Good. I understand you aren’t on the best terms with your step-brother.”

Yeah…there weren’t many more terms I could be on with Zach. We were as termed as any couple could get without actually admitting our feelings.

The only problem was that Zach hadn’t been around much.

At all.

Ever since his return from Washington, and that feral, passionate night spent on the floor of the library, he pulled away. Became distant. Worse part was, I expected it.

But it didn’t make it hurt any less.

Zach said the doctor would eventually decide if he was fit to return to the SEALs. He waited on the verdict, but I knew the answer already.

A resounding yes, and Zach would be gone.

The SEALs were his life. He trained specifically for their demands and literally rebuilt himself after the mission that nearly killed him. Students changed majors because a textbook gave them a paper-cut. Zach was hospitalized for months, and he would have sewn his body together with fishing line just to get back to the fight.

He’d be the most romantic, sexy, and unbelievably noble man…if he hadn’t broken my heart. In a few months, he’d be gone. And then?

No matter how wonderful our nights were together, I had to prepare for him leaving. It wasn’t worth letting him into my life if it’d be torn apart once he deployed.

“And now, Shay, you want to start a charity?” Beth tapped her water glass. “You realize investments are much safer and can guarantee a solid return on your money.”

I nodded. “Well, yes, but I’m not looking for a return on my money. I want to begin a charity or a program of some sort. Something like a tutoring or afterschool initiative for kids. Or even a camp. I’m open to ideas.”

“But the investments—”