The Captain's Dirty Little Secret

Chapter 207: Chapter 207 - After the Marks

Zac woke before Roxie.

Weak gray light slipped around the curtains, leaving most of the bedroom dark. His lower lip hurt when he moved his mouth. He ran his tongue carefully over the split and tasted dried blood.

His neck stung when he turned his head. One shoulder burned beneath the scratches Roxie had left with her nails.

Roxie slept beside him in her tank top and shorts, her face turned partly into the pillow. One arm rested between them, her wrist exposed near his chest.

Zac saw the marks immediately.

Dark red fingerprints circled her wrist. Some came from the grill, when Roxie pulled away and told him he was hurting her. Others came later, when he held her against the wall and she pulled against his hand because she wanted his grip tighter.

They looked the same.

Zac remembered the difference.

At the grill, Roxie wanted him to release her.

Inside the bungalow, she wrapped her legs around him and asked for more.

That should have helped.

It didn’t.

He remembered how much he liked holding her still. Roxie had fought his grip, pushed against him, and challenged him while he kept her pinned against the wall. She could have told him to stop. Instead, she looked him in the eyes and asked him to move harder.

The memory affected him before the guilt returned.

That frightened him more than the marks.

He understood why he liked holding her after she kissed him. She wanted him then. She kept pulling him closer and asking for more.

The grill had been different.

She pulled away. She told him he was hurting her. His hand stayed around her wrist because he wanted to keep her beside him while the college papers remained on the table behind her.

Part of him had liked that control too.

Zac moved carefully toward the edge of the bed.

His ruined jeans lay near the bathroom door. He still had clean clothes in the truck from football season. An old duffel sat behind the driver’s seat with jeans, shirts, socks, and a sweatshirt he kept forgetting to bring inside.

He could get dressed and leave before Roxie woke.

His father had already called twice during the night. Going home would give him a reason to stay away long enough to think.

Zac reached toward the floor.

Roxie shifted behind him.

Her hand moved across the mattress, searching the place where he had been lying. Her fingers touched his side, then curled loosely against his skin.

She stayed asleep.

Zac looked down at her hand.

He lay back beside her.

Roxie moved closer without waking. Her hand remained at his waist, and the faint tension in her face disappeared.

Zac stared at the ceiling.

He could not leave while she was reaching for him.

He waited until her breathing settled again before lifting her hand carefully from his side. Then he climbed out of bed and pulled on the ruined jeans.

The front felt stiff and uncomfortable. He zipped them anyway, found his shoes, and went outside.

Cold morning air hit his face as soon as he stepped onto the porch.

The truck sat near the road where he had parked it the night before. Zac opened the passenger door and reached behind the seat for the duffel.

The bag smelled faintly like grass and the locker room.

He carried it inside and changed in the bathroom. The jeans were wrinkled, and the black sweatshirt smelled like the truck, but everything was clean enough. He shoved the ruined pair into the duffel and left it near the bathroom door.

Roxie was still asleep when he checked the bedroom.

Zac went into the kitchen.

She had eggs, half a pack of sausage, butter, and two potatoes that had started growing small white roots. A loaf of bread sat near the stove.

It was enough.

Zac peeled the potatoes and cut them into small cubes so they would cook faster. He browned the sausage first, then used the same pan for the potatoes. He added salt, pepper, and the last of an onion from the refrigerator.

Cooking gave him something to do with his hands.

He could watch the pan instead of thinking about Roxie’s wrist. He could flip the potatoes, crack eggs, and check the heat without remembering how tightly his fingers had closed around her.

The bedroom door opened behind him.

Roxie walked into the kitchen rubbing one eye. Her tank top had twisted during the night, and her sleep shorts sat low on one hip. The marks near her waist were mostly hidden beneath the fabric.

Her eyes moved over Zac’s clean clothes.

”You changed.”

”I had stuff in the truck.”

”You went outside?”

”You were asleep.”

Roxie looked toward the front door, then back at him. ”I woke up and you were gone.”

”I was outside for five minutes.”

”You could’ve told me.”

”You were sleeping.”

She stayed near the kitchen entrance.

Zac turned back to the stove and moved the potatoes around the pan.

”Sit down. You have work.”

Roxie blinked. ”You remember?”

”You said you’re watching Jason all day.”

”I didn’t think you listened.”

”I listen.”

”Sometimes.”

Zac slid the potatoes onto two plates and added eggs, sausage, and toast.

Roxie approached him from behind while he turned off the burner. Her arms started to move around his waist.

Zac reached for the hot pan at the same time and stepped sideways to place it in the sink.

Roxie’s hands fell before they touched him.

He noticed when he turned around.

She looked at the pan instead of his face.

”That was hot,” he said.

”I know.”

Zac carried the plates to the table.

Roxie sat in her usual chair. He placed the larger plate in front of her, then took the chair across from her instead of sitting beside her.

She watched him pick up his fork.

”Are you mad?”

”No.”

”You’re sitting over there.”

”I’m eating.”

”You usually sit here.”

”It’s the same table.”

”It’s a tiny table, Zac. Why are you sitting over there?”

Zac looked down at his plate and cut into one of the eggs.

He was still angry.

Roxie had hidden the college papers because Ethan gave them to her. She had sat with him after closing and looked at schools that could keep her in Briarwick. She had apologized, but she still wanted the papers back.

Zac understood why she needed choices.

He hated every choice that did not include him.

She said Ethan was only a friend. Maybe he was only a friend to her. That did nothing to change the fact that Ethan had spent two days finding schools for her while Zac planned Tennessee.

Roxie reached for her water. Her wrist turned, exposing the dark marks again.

Zac stopped eating.

”Does it hurt?”

She pulled her arm closer. ”A little.”

”Let me see.”

”You already saw it.”

”Last night.”

”It didn’t change.”

”It’s darker.”

Roxie watched him for several seconds before placing her arm on the table.

Zac took her hand carefully.

His fingers barely touched her skin as he turned her wrist toward the light. The bruising had spread during the night. His thumbprint was still the darkest part.

He pressed lightly around the outside.

Roxie’s fingers moved.

”That hurt.”

”You said a little.”

”That was a little.”

Zac released the pressure but kept her hand in his.

”Move your fingers.”

She opened and closed them.

”Now your wrist.”

Roxie rotated it slowly. Her mouth tightened near the end of the movement.

”It aches,” she said.

”So it hurts.”

”It aches.”

Zac looked at the marks again.

”I should’ve let go at the grill.”

Roxie looked toward the kitchen. ”I shouldn’t have hidden the papers.”

”That has nothing to do with this.”

”I made you mad.”

”You told me I was hurting you.”

”You loosened your hand.”

”I kept holding you.”

Roxie tried to pull her arm back.

Zac released it immediately.

She tucked her hand against her stomach.

The movement made his chest tighten.

Roxie looked at the split in his lip instead.

”I bit you knowing that would open again.”

She was using what she had done later to excuse what he had done at the grill.

Zac’s stomach turned.

He had hurt her, and now she was trying to make the two things equal because admitting they were different would force both of them to look at what had happened.

”That was later,” he said.

”I still did it.”

”You wanted what happened later.”

”So did you.”

Zac looked away.

That was the problem.

He had wanted it more than he could explain without making everything worse.

Roxie leaned back in her chair. ”Do you regret it?”

”No.”

”Then why are you sitting over there?”

Zac looked at the small space between them. If he sat beside her, he would touch her.

If he touched her, he might want the same thing again.

”I need to think.”

”About me?”

”About last night.”

”That means me.”

”I didn’t say that.”

”You didn’t have to.”

She looked down at her plate and pushed one potato through the egg yolk.

Zac watched her for several seconds.

Roxie picked it up and chewed harder than necessary.

They finished in a silence that felt different from the truck the night before. Roxie kept looking at him whenever she thought he would not notice.

Zac noticed every time.

Part of him hated making her feel rejected.

Another part remembered the college pages.

She could sit with Ethan and study schools that might keep her away from Tennessee, but she could barely handle Zac sitting across the table instead of beside her.

The thought was unfair.

It still gave him a small, ugly satisfaction.

She needed his attention enough to feel every inch of distance.

How could she plan a future away from him and then look hurt because he refused to hold her for one breakfast?

Zac knew those were different things.

He kept comparing them anyway.

Roxie finished most of the eggs and half the toast before pushing the plate away.

Zac took her plate and carried both of them to the sink.

Behind him, Roxie stood and went toward the bedroom without another word.

Zac cleaned the pan and wiped the counter. He put the leftover potatoes and sausage into a plastic container, wrapped the remaining toast in foil, and placed everything inside the fridge.

Roxie returned wearing jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and a coat. The sleeves covered her wrist completely.

She carried a canvas bag and placed it on the table. A phone charger, a notebook, markers, and a puzzle book were already inside.

”Eat the leftovers when you get home,” Zac said.

”You’re not staying for dinner?”

Zac dried his hands on a towel.

”No.”

Roxie looked at him. ”You’re really going home?”

”My dad called.”

”He always calls.”

”I need to go back.”

”You didn’t need to go back yesterday.”

”That was yesterday.”

Roxie zipped her bag harder than necessary.

Zac carried it toward the door before she could take it from him.

She followed him into the living room and stopped in front of him. Her fingers moved to the collar of his sweatshirt. She pulled the fabric higher and pressed it flat.

”That one still shows.”

”I’ll keep the sweatshirt on.”

Roxie sighed while her fingers brushed the skin below his ear.

Zac stayed still.

She waited.

He knew what she expected. Usually, he would catch her waist and pull her closer. He would kiss her before she had time to think.

He kept both hands around the strap of her bag.

Roxie lowered her hands. Her mouth tightened.

”I liked you better when you were angry.”

The line made something cold move through him.

”Why?”

”At least you wanted to touch me.”

”I still want to touch you.”

”You have a weird way of showing it.”

Zac looked at her wrist hidden beneath her sleeve.

Roxie followed his attention and folded her arms.

”Last night felt better than this.”

”You think I only want you when I’m angry?”

”You held me like you wanted me.”

”I did want you.”

”Then quit acting like you don’t.”

Zac wanted to reach for her.

He wanted to put both hands on her waist and prove the distance had nothing to do with desire.

He also wanted to feel her fight his grip again.

That stopped him. His heart thudded hard.

”Come on,” he said. ”You’ll be late.”

Roxie stared at him before taking her bag.

They drove through town in silence.

Zac kept both hands on the steering wheel. Roxie stayed close to the passenger door, watching bare trees and closed stores pass outside the window.

The Robinsons lived inside the same gated community as Zac’s family.

The guard recognized the truck and raised the barrier without asking where they were going.

Large houses stood behind trimmed lawns and bare winter trees. Wide driveways led toward attached garages. A few doors still had Christmas wreaths hanging from them.

The route to the Robinson house took them past Zac’s home.

His father’s car sat near the garage. Nathan’s vehicle was parked behind it.

Zac kept his eyes on the road.

His father could wait until Roxie was inside the Robinson house.

Roxie looked toward the property as they passed.

”What time are you done?” Zac asked.

”Six. Maybe later.”

”I’ll pick you up.”

”I thought you were staying home.”

”I am.”

”Then stay there.”

Zac glanced at her. ”What does that mean?”

”You said you need to think.”

”That doesn’t mean I’m leaving you without a ride.”

”I can get home.”

”I said I’ll pick you up.”

Roxie’s mouth tightened.

The Robinson house sat near the end of a curved street. Chalk drawings covered part of the walkway. A bicycle had been left on its side near the garage.

Zac stopped near the curb.

”Call me when you’re done.”

”No need.” Roxie unfastened her seat belt. ”I’ll call an Uber.”

Zac looked at her. ”Why would you do that when I’m four streets away?”

”You need space.”

She used his own excuse against him.

Zac’s jaw tightened.

He had spent the entire morning keeping his hands away from her. Hearing that she would rather call a stranger than ask him for a ride still pissed him off.

”You’re not taking an Uber.”

”You already decided you’re staying here tonight.”

”That doesn’t mean I’m leaving you here.”

”I’ll figure it out.”

”You’re calling me.”

Roxie pulled her bag onto her lap. ”You don’t get to avoid me all day and then decide when I need you.”

Before Zac could answer, the front door opened.

Jason ran onto the porch.

”Roxie!”

Roxie got out and met him. Zac watched the exchange before driving away.