“You were seeing the memory from your sister’s perspective?”

“I was. It took a very long time for that realization to sink in. It made no sense at all. None. But every time Bree held my hand, something similar happened. And she held my hand a lot then. We needed each other. Needed that contact.”

“Did she know what was happening?”

“We discussed it, heaps. Decided it was just the drugs. I was on ridiculous painkillers, strong stuff. We both thought I was hallucinating. Tripping on the morphine or something.” Only she hadn’t been. And the visions weren’t limited to Bree. When a nurse took her pulse one morning, and held her hand in the process, Eve had suddenly seen identical twin boys in her mind.

Not understanding the power of what she’d seen and how she’d seen it, Eve had asked about the twins. The nurse had left without saying another word. Eve hadn’t seen her again.

“It took a while to figure the hand-holding triggered the visions, and even longer to recognize the symptoms—the tingles in my palm, the electricity shooting up my arm.” She shrugged. “I guess there’s no better teacher than experience.” That same experience had taught her to give up the affectionate practice of holding hands.

“How did you deal with it all? You were so damn young.”

“Therapy, Pacey. Years and years of counseling. I am very in touch with my inner child. She and I?” She held two fingers together. “We’re like this. Best mates.” Although the counselors had never understood the whole hand-holding-vision thing, and after a while she’d stopped talking about it. It had just been easier to keep that talent to herself instead of being subjected to their extensive psychoanalysis.

They reached the hotel and Zachary took her up to his suite. When the words and the conversation ran out, he spent the rest of the evening making slow, sweet love to her.

He handled her with such exquisite tenderness, Eve’s throat clogged with the tears she’d refused to shed while telling him about Bali.

He held her after, held her very close. “Thank you. For telling me about Bali. About your brother. For letting me in.”

Eve had never felt more adored, more protected. It had been a very long time since she’d spoken to anyone besides her family about Lochie, but telling Zachary had seemed…right. Something about him made her want to share her innermost thoughts, her emotions. She was, she knew, more than a little in love with the man. He’d burrowed into her heart and made a permanent place for himself there.

Which would have been perfectly wonderful if Eve didn’t know she still hid such a massive part of herself from him. Though she’d let him in and shared her trauma and her past, she’d still hidden her face. Zachary had yet to see the real Eve Andrews.

But did she need to show him her scars? Did she need to reveal the truly ugly side of herself? Couldn’t she just leave Zachary with the illusion that she wasn’t a monster?

Because as wonderful as he was and as beautifully as he held her now, this closeness between them, this love that she felt, could never lead anywhere.

In the end, Zachary was fated to be with another. She’d seen it in his vision—and it made her chest hurt now.

Eve knew, perhaps better than anyone, that visions were never wrong.

She lay with him for a long while, long after he’d fallen asleep, treasuring the time spent in his arms. When she could put it off no longer, when sleep tugged at her eyelids, she slipped from his bed, dressed and made her way to her own room.

When morning came and Zachary remembered the bath, Eve did not want to be near him. Not when the water he used to fill the tub could expose every one of the scars she’d chosen not to reveal.


It was Eve, all showered and made up, who banged on Zachary’s door the next morning. And when he opened it, looking sultry and sleepy, the sight of him made her heart leap straight into her throat.

He spent a good minute or two chastising her for leaving, and a good hour or two making love to her. But at ten they were forced to go their separate ways. Zachary had to prepare for the concert that night, and Eve had a birthday party she’d promised to attend—as a princess.

He kissed her thoroughly, promising to miss her the entire time they were apart. She left after pocketing a pair of Zachary’s green contact lenses, thinking they’d add a nice touch to her princess outfit, and smiling at how perfectly mushy her sexy drummer could be.

Then Jake drove her to her sister’s house, where Eve was drawn straight into the arms of her sister’s family. Bree left Hannah in her dad’s care, locked the two of them in her room, and as Eve transformed herself into a fairytale princess, complete with tiara, wig and Zachary’s contacts, Bree drilled her about roses, visions, blowjobs and Jonah Speed.


Zachary spent more than an hour missing his cues and fucking up one song after another.

His concentration was shot to hell, and damn it, he missed Eve. Wanted her with him. Wanted her beside him now. Today. And tomorrow. And the next day.

Jesus, he never wanted to be apart from her. That connection between them? It was stronger than ever.

As he banged an out-of-tune riff on his drums and was vaguely aware that the rest of the band had stopped to glare at him, he pictured Eve, motionless on the ground, shattered glass lying around her and a piece of the broken window lodged in her chest—saving her life in a grotesque twist of fate.

He missed a beat and dropped a drumstick as the imagined dark patch beside her became a pool of Eve’s blood.

Never had he felt so impotent. So fucking helpless. Eve had been injured in a bomb blast, lost her brother to the attack, and there was not a damn thing Zachary could do about it. Even now, Eve was the one who’d helped him deal with it. He hadn’t made a dime’s worth of difference—except to make her relive the whole fucking experience.

“Zachary!” It was Luke who snapped him back to reality.

He blinked.

The need to protect Eve, to keep her safe, had him itching. He never wanted to let her out of his sight again, never wanted her in a position where she could be a victim again.

And yet…and yet… Fuck, he’d made her a victim of a different kind. A victim of the paparazzi.

Yeah, big difference between a bomb blast and a kiss with a celebrity, but still.

“What the hell is going on with you this morning?” Luke demanded.

Zachary rubbed his now-empty fingers together. He swore he felt the stickiness of Eve’s blood on his hand.

“Take five,” the band manager said, looking around the room. “Get a drink, get a breath of fresh air, and be back here at 11:15.”

The room emptied, leaving just Zachary, his brothers and Luke.

Nathan gave him an assessing look. “You okay, bro?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t look so,” Seth agreed.

“You look kind of like I felt when Sophie disappeared,” Nathan said quietly.

Luke narrowed his eyes. “Has Eve disappeared?”

“No. Not permanently. She’s at her sister’s now.”

“Did the press get hold of her?” Luke’s voice was low, threatening.

“Not that I know of.”

“This is about her?” Seth wanted to know.

Zachary nodded.

“Spill it, bro.” Nathan demanded. “Get it out so we can get on with the rehearsal.”

“She doesn’t have red hair.”

“Yep. We’d noticed that,” Luke said.

“Or green eyes,” Seth added.

“And yet…”

“And yet you’re in love with her.”

Zachary wasn’t sure who’d spoken. From the looks on the three men’s faces, it could have been any of them.

“Fucking head-over-heels crazy about her,” he agreed.

The second Zachary had realized Eve could have died in Bali, he’d felt it. So caught up was he in Eve’s story, he hadn’t understood it for what it was, but now he knew. He was deeply in love with the woman. The idea of a world without her made him want to punch someone. The idea of his world without her left him wheezing.

“And you don’t like the thought of that?” It was Seth who asked.

“It’s not that I don’t like it.” Not that at all. “It’s that I’m struggling to wrap my head around it.”

Luke and Nath were silent. Seth responded. “Must be messing with your mind. I’ve known Lucas was meant for me for eight years. If I suddenly realized there was someone else for me, I’d be…all fucked up.”

Luke opened his mouth then snapped it shut. A look of fierce possessiveness crossed his face.

“I am all fucked up,” Zachary admitted. Although not necessarily in a bad way. Falling in love with Eve wasn’t a negative. Not at all.

It was…well, fucking perfect. Filled him in a way he’d never been filled before. Not with any of the faceless women he’d slept with as Jonah, or the several girlfriends he’d had as Zachary.

Being with Eve felt right. It made him whole. He could see her beside him—for the rest of his life.

The bit that messed with his head was his vision, his fated woman. How could he feel this way about Eve if she wasn’t the woman he’d imagined for over twenty years? How could he have seen someone so clearly, if another woman stole his heart so completely?

It didn’t make a lick of sense.

Part of him, a very big part, was beginning to not care. He hadn’t given his red-haired vision much thought these last few days. His focus had been on Eve. All he cared about was Eve.

“Does this have to be so complicated?” Luke asked. “Can you not just take it for what it is and enjoy it? Enjoy Eve. Why even think about a woman who’s only real in your head?”

“Because she’s been his future for almost a lifetime, Lucas. It’s not that easy to suddenly envision something—someone—different.”

Seth, of all people, never let a future he’d dreamed about get away from him. He moved heaven and earth to make it happen.

Was Zachary willing to move heaven and earth to make the future he’d imagined for years happen?

He didn’t even have to think about the answer. Hell, no. Not now that Eve was in his life.

“Zachary?”

“Yeah, Nath?”

“Go to her.”

He stared at his brother.

“Go. Now. You’re doing fuck-all good around here. You might as well be with her.”

Luke gave a sigh of defeat and pulled out his cell phone. “Brayden?”

Five minutes later Zachary was in a car, headed to Eve’s sister’s place.

Chapter Twelve

Before climbing out of the car, Zachary shoved his sunglasses on.

He hadn’t stopped to put contacts in, hadn’t given it a thought. But he was going out in public, going to see people who knew him only as Jonah and not as Zachary. It was probably better to just hide his eyes than to face a barrage of questions.

The house Brayden pulled up at was small. A weatherboard building with a large yard of green grass and a low brick wall.

Dozens of little girls dressed as princesses and fairies sat in a circle, listening spellbound to someone in the middle, while a group of women, the girls’ mothers, he guessed, stood around a table or sat in chairs scattered through the yard.

None of them noticed as he climbed from the Merc and made his way to the party.

As he walked up the driveway he scanned the faces. Searched every mother there in hopes of spotting the woman he loved. He’d never had a problem attending parties before, but as he walked across the lawn, his stomach heaved.

He’d never attended a four-year-old girl’s party before. Well, not since he himself was four, and then it was by invitation only. Today, he was an adult, effectively gate-crashing a child’s birthday.

Good one, Zachary. Way to make an impression on the family.

The women spoke to one another while peals of delighted laughter rang through his ears. Young, innocent laughter.

He had not been that innocent in a very long time.

Zachary stopped to watch the kids, stopped to enjoy their innocence, and couldn’t help the smile that crept across his face. Nor could he stop the thought that crept into his mind. Eve, with a little girl at her side. One who looked just like her—and him.

The thought made him jerk in surprise. Where the hell had that come from?

He’d assigned all thoughts of possible offspring to a very distant part of his imagination after the whole baby scare. Yet the image of Eve with their child? Yeah, not so scary. Not scary at all.