Gilded Cage

Chapter 25

In a season known for gloomy weather, the afternoon graced us with a glimpse of rare sunshine and clear skies. Although, the air outside of Zac's heated car still felt sharp and cold, prickling across my cheeks and nipping at my gloveless hands almost painfully. I shivered. Zac pulled out a light fleece blanket from the grocery bag and offered it to me. Hesitantly, I accepted it from him and wrapped the blanket around my shoulders like a cape.

"Better?" he asked.

I nodded dumbly. My nerves were still winding down from the near hysterical eruption I had let loose in the car moments ago. A lone bird was chirping. I could hear the babbling sounds of the river at a distance. The calm and serenity that now enveloped me was not unlike opening my eyes to the quiet of my own bedroom after being trapped in a heart-pounding nightmare all night. Zac was leading me down one of the trails to yet another unknown destination. He acted as though everything was fine between us. It was trippy as hell. I didn't know why my feet kept moving to keep up with his stride when my brain knew better than to follow the tricky bastard down the rabbit hole again.

We stopped at a small clearing by the water. He let go of my hand. There was a large pine tree and a wooden bench that stood about twenty feet away from the riverbank. Zac walked over and set his grocery bag down on the grass. He pulled out two sandwiches, a package of chocolate-dipped strawberries, and two bottles of sparkling Perrier water and arranged everything very nicely on the bench. He looked up at me. His eyes were again the color of amber-hued whiskey under the golden sunlight. Our gazes lingered as dozens of unanswered questions continued to swirl around my head.

Zac's dark lashes suddenly swept downwards, almost shyly, as he mumbled, "I thought, um... you might be hungry after your flight."

My stomach answered for me with a rumble.

His lips curved into a crooked smile. "I'll take that as a 'yes?'"

I winced sheepishly. "I mean, I'm not gonna say 'no' to free food."

We settled on either end of the bench with the food and drinks nestled between us. I must have been starving because every bite of the sandwich seemed to contain just the right amount of toasty, savory goodness. The strawberries were ripe and sweet. A little juice trickled down my chin. I quickly dabbed at it with a napkin. For the next few minutes, Zac and I ate in companionable silence, just staring out at the river and the trees without any of the arguing, second-guessing, and doubting that had defined so much of our confusing relationship. It felt nice. Really nice. Almost like we were on a date or something.

Zac finished eating first. He glanced over to me and said, "My dad used to bring me here on the weekends whenever I had a rough week at school."

My chewing slowed as the weight behind his words settled over me.

"We would sit right here. On this bench. Under this tree. Sometimes I'd bring a comic book to read. He'd bring his laptop. Other times, we'd just sit here and do nothing. Make small talk. I always tried to keep the shit that happened at school to myself, but I think my dad kinda knew. He was far from perfect, but he tried to be a good dad. He made time in his busy schedule for me. I knew he cared about me."

I set down my food, feeling fully alert and irrationally nervous all of a sudden. For some reason, I sensed that Zac was about to drop a bombshell on me. His amber-colored eyes gleamed like liquid fire. I saw a mixture of sorrow and fury so potent that it made my heart ache.

Zac rasped hoarsely, "Last year, when I went to visit my dad at Otisville, he told me that he had been framed by his colleagues. Up until then, he always refused to say a word to me about what he did, or didn't do, and what actually happened behind the scenes at Wyman & Rimmel. It was the first time he ever opened up to me like that."