Zach stalked into the living room and tapped the power button on the TV, which went dark. He glowered at her. “Damn it, Tess, we have to talk about this.”
“No, we really don’t. You were mad at Bran, you needed to cool off.”
“And I left your house wide open.”
Fine, she thought. He wanted honesty? She’d be honest.
“Yes, you did.” She met his gaze square-on. “I dropped from your radar. But I think I mostly dropped from it several days ago. It’s been pretty clear to me that you want out of this protector gig.” When he started to open his mouth, she shook her head fiercely. “Your feeling that way is understandable. This crap is going to go on and on and on. Maybe till death do us part.”
He winced. It felt like a stiletto into her heart.
“It’s not that.” His fingers raked his already disheveled hair. He took a couple of paces away from the television then back. “I’ve just been hit by a lot lately.”
He had, and she knew it, but her temper flared, too. There was a great excuse for hurting other people. Not.
“Haven’t we all.”
He snorted. “Your little sister wasn’t murdered. You’re not hitting one dead end after another, trying to figure out who did it.”
“My father had a stroke and it’s only a matter of time until he has another one. You have a mother.”
He looked stung. “Do I? After I asked which of her screw buddies might have raped and murdered Sheila?”
“You have a brother, too,” she said quietly. “One you’ll lose if you keep on like this.”
“Lose? I haven’t had him since he chose Dad over me.”
Tess blinked, shocked out of her hurt feelings. “Zach, you were boys. He wasn’t choosing your father over you. He chose him over your mother.”
“Bullshit!” He was breathing hard. “We could have stayed together.”
This wasn’t going anywhere good and Tess knew it was her fault as much as his. She’d been foolish enough to hope he could free himself from his past. She should have known better. Was it even possible?
“Has it occurred to you that maybe it has been too many years since she died?” she asked softly. “That you might not find her killer?”
“No.” He sounded implacable. “Failure’s not an option.”
“Zach, you might fail. You have to know that.” Once upon a time he’d admitted as much.
Now he stared incredulously at her. “You think I should quit. Is that it?”
“I didn’t say that. But you need to wonder whether this hasn’t become some kind of obsession.”
The taut lines of his face told her how angry he was. “I’m looking for justice. It’s my job!”
“But it’s not your job.” Saying all this might not be the right thing, but if his swings in mood and surliness had to do with his investigation and not her, it couldn’t be healthy for him. “It’s a...quest.”
“I’m a detective.” He took the few steps needed to bring him to the coffee table, only feet from where she sat. He loomed over her, glaring down. “I’ve spent years developing the know-how and skills to get to the point where I could nail the creep who killed my sister. And now you’re saying...what? Let it go?”
“I don’t know.” Tess hugged herself.
“Well, I do. Nothing will stop me, including this shit with Hayes.” His stare could have blistered her skin. “Do you understand?”
She shivered. “Yes. I certainly can’t stop you.”
“What are you asking? For a big gesture here to prove you’re everything to me?”
“I’m not stupid enough to do that.”
“Good,” he snapped with another angry look, “because it’s not happening. You know what this is about.” A slashing gesture took her in. Her house. Her worth to him.
Tess’s usual confidence deserted her and she shriveled inside. “I do now,” she whispered.
“You expected more.”
She lifted one shoulder. “I suppose I...hoped.”
“I don’t do relationships. I never have. I thought I’d made it clear.” He paced, the words coming faster and faster. “I want to nail Sheila’s killer and get out of this town. There’s just too much—”