pad barefoot down the stairs much later. His damp hair curls at his nape, and he’s wearing a gray Army shirt and shorts. “You’re home early.”
“Things ended sooner than expected.” Literally.
“Your phone’s been blowing up. Lila called me when you didn’t pick up. She and Tucker are coming over.”
I sigh. “I really don’t want to see anyone tonight.”
“She said that’s what you would say and to tell you they’re coming anyway.”
There’s a distinct downside to living five minutes from them at times like this. Before we’re even done speaking, Tucker’s knocking, and I sigh loudly.
“Can we do this tomorrow?” I call through the door.
“You know I have a key,” he reminds me.
I unlock it, standing aside. “I’m changing my locks.” Tucker’s blue eyes look both furious and worried, and Lila’s share the same expression.
“I’m going to your liquor cabinet,” he announces. “Who else wants a drink?”
Startled, I look at Mark, who motions for me to follow as both Tucker and Lila stalk to the kitchen. Tucker retrieves rum and scotch. Lila takes fruit punch from the refrigerator and fills glasses with ice. We end up at the dining room table where Tucker pours scotch for himself and Mark and rum for Lila and me. Both Tucker and Lila are visibly seething, though I’m not sure why. I reach for the fruit punch.
“Anybody wanna tell me what’s up?” I ask.
“Tom called,” Lila says.
That’s all she says, even though I keep waiting for more. “And?” I finally probe.
“Blake went to see him.” I wait for her to elaborate. “He told Tom what happened tonight.”
I close my eyes. As if his private reaction wasn’t mortifying enough, Blake’s ensured all my friends know exactly what happened. It’s a twofer – two for the price of one, both private and public humiliation.
“What did Tom do?” Mark asks, and his words surprise me. Not what did Tom say, but what did he d
Shit. As protective as Tom is, I can guess. “Does Blake have two black eyes again?”
Tucker shakes his head. “As soon as he told Tom, he threw his hands up to protect his face. Tom dropped him with a punch to the solar plexus and then the jaw.”
“Pussy,” Mark mutters. When I glance at him, he clarifies, “Blake should have just taken the punch. He knew he had it coming.”
“No one should have anything coming to them!” I splutter. “You guys can’t go around punching people just because my feelings get hurt.”
“Watch me,” both men say in unison, and I sigh.
“We’re going to have a serious discussion later about the use of the word ‘pussy’ as an insult,” Lila announces, glaring at each of them before turning to me. “Are you okay?”
I shrug. “I’ve been down this road before, telling guys and watching them disengage.” I open the fruit punch and add it to my rum.
“But unlike with the Whiners, you didn’t gloss over what happened. You told him details.” She hesitates. “And you showed him.”
I pause, my glass halfway to my lips. “Yeah. I did."
Tucker’s eyebrows pull together. “Why?”
I set down the glass. “If he was going to freak out, I needed to know. Besides, I’m trying to let myself be more vulnerable. Open up.”
“With people you trust,” Mark says quietly. “You trusted him?”
“I trusted him not to try anything physical. This was a test. For both of us, not just for him,” I add. He’s still frowning. “I talked about it with Linda yesterday.”
“And her advice was to show him your scars?” Tucker’s disbelief is evident.
I shake my head. “She told me it was better to find out now if he would see me differently once he found out.” I drain my glass. “And now I know.”
Tucker shakes his head. “He wasn’t worthy of you, Charlie.”
“There’s only one way to find out, Tucker, and I didn’t need to get attached if this wasn’t going to pan out.”
“I’m guessing he didn’t handle it well.”
I sigh heavily. “He gasped and jerked his hand away. He never said a single word, not one. But he looked at me like –” I take a deep breath and meet Tucker’s eyes. “Like I was a monster.” A lump builds in my throat, but I won’t cry, not over Blake.
Tucker places one hand on mine, squeezing slightly. It’s the first time he’s touched me since I was taken, and though I’m startled, I’m not afraid. His expression is fierce. “The only monsters were the ones we put down.” He looks away. “Goddamned bastards,” he growls.
My heart swells with affection for Tucker. I love him like a brother, and I want to let him past my protective walls the way Willow encouraged me to, but I don’t know how. He’s already part of my daily life, and he’s definitely seen the worst of me.
Almost.
I’ve never let Tucker see my scars. The only people who’ve ever seen them, aside from the medical professionals, are Lila and Mark. And Blake, though clearly, that didn’t go well.
Tucker’s right. Blake wasn’t worthy.
But he is.
I meet Tucker’s deep blue eyes in a burst of determination. “Stand up.”
“What?”
I move to stand in front of him. “Stand up. I’m done hiding from someone I trust with my life.” When he stands, I turn away. He and Mark look confused, but Lila gives me a small smile of encouragement.
I draw a deep breath, then lift the hem of my shirt all the way to my neck, baring my back to him while keeping my front covered. My hands stay on my shoulders, tightly gripping the fabric. “I never should have hidden the shameful stuff from you, Tucker.” I swallow hard, and my eyes burn. “It was never that I didn’t trust you. It’s just… I hate my scars, and I hide them, trying to pretend I’m not… broken.” I can barely speak over the lump in my throat.
I hear Tucker’s heavy sigh, so different from Blake’s appalled gasp. His large hands cover mine, loosening my grip to let my shirt fall back into place. He steps closer, pressing his cheek to the top of my head as his arms loosely surround me. It's comforting, not frightening, and I turn and throw my arms around his neck. His big arms fold me into his chest. “You’re not broken,” he says against my hair.
I laugh out loud at his preposterous statement. “You of all people should know how screwed up I am. You’re the one who installed the camera. How many times have you two had to intervene in my night terrors?”
Tucker releases me, and we take our seats. “We installed that camera and intervened when we needed to because you’re determined to kill whoever’s coming for you.” Then he frowns. “And don’t call your scars shameful. They’re nothing to be ashamed of.”
Lila’s violet gaze is steady. “Charlie, you've got to stop defining yourself by your scars.”
I can’t keep the frustration out of my voice. “I don’t have any other choice.”
Her tone turns firm. “Yes, you do. You didn’t have a choice when they hurt you, but how you see yourself is up to you. You’re more than your scars.”
I shake my head. “How I got them may be in the past, but they’re always with me, Lila, always. For the rest of my life, I’ll have tangible reminders of the shit they did. I can repress the memories, bury them, and in time, I might not think about what they did. But the physical scars will never fade. I see them every time I change clothes, every time I shower, and so will everyone else. My scars will always be an issue.”
Mark looks at me, his ice-blue eyes blazing. “So what if you have scars? They’re part of you, but they don’t define you. No one who gives a damn about you will view them as anything but proof of your strength. And the people who don’t? Who cares what they think? And if Blake was too stupid to see that, fuck him. You can do a hell of a lot better anyway.”
Lila looks up from her phone. “Tom’s asking if you need him to come over. His sister can take Maya for the night.”
I smile. “Tell him thanks, but I’m okay. And thank him for defending me, even though punching Blake wasn’t necessary.”
Tucker says, “Totally necessary,” at the same time Mark says, “Yes, it was.”
I look at each of them in turn. “Blake got one thing right. He said I had loyal friends.”
“Damn right,” Tucker says, scowling at the mention of Blake’s name.
Lila searches my face. “So what now?”
“No more Winner versus Whiners. I’ve had my fill.”
“So there’s no possibility of redemption for Blake?”
I raise one eyebrow. “After tonight? Not a chance. Besides, he made it clear he's no longer interested.”
Mark crosses his arms. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”
“Why?”
“His truck pulled in a few minutes ago.”
There’s stunned silence before Lila goes to look out the window. “That’s Blake all right.”
Tucker frowns. “Want me to deal with him?”
I shake my head. “Nope. He can sit there until his tires rot for all I care.”
Lila looks surprised. “You aren’t going to talk to him?”
I shrug. “He didn’t say anything when it mattered. He doesn’t need to waste my time now.”
You could hear a pin drop. Tucker’s the one who breaks the silence. “Well, we’ve determined that Blake’s an ass and Charlie’s a badass. What’s next?”
The tension dissipates and everyone laughs. We eventually decide to move to the living room and watch a stand-up comedian. I nurse a couple more drinks, enough to take the edge off but not enough to get buzzed.
When Tucker and Lila leave a couple of hours later, Blake is still outside, leaning against his truck. He catches sight of me briefly before I close the door. I leave it cracked, curious what Tucker and Lila will say to him.
“Can I just talk to her?”
Tucker’s voice is decisive. “Nope.” I picture him standing with his arms crossed and feet planted, the way I’ve seen him a thousand times when he’s determined.
“I need to explain.”
“She’s not interested in anything you have to say.”
Blake appeals to Lila, hoping she’ll take his side. “Please. I know I messed up.”
“I warned you, Blake. Go home before I rip you to shreds right here.”
“I can explain, Lila,” he pleads. “I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing, and I knew not to hug her. But the longer the silence got, the worse it was, and by the time I knew what I wanted to say, it was too late.”
Gravel crunches as Tucker’s voice cuts across the driveway. “Leave.”
When I hear their car doors close, I lock up and go to Mark’s room. He’s waiting. “Want me to get rid of him?”
I shake my head. “He’ll leave eventually. I just want to forget today ever happened.”
I lie down beside him, and he pulls me close, his arm around my waist. “I’m proud of you.”
I turn my head to look back at him over my shoulder. “Why?”
“Because you fought your fears and took risks. You bared yourself literally and emotionally to Blake, and despite his reaction, you still chose to be vulnerable with Tucker.”
“I should have let Tucker in years ago.”
“I think it meant more now, after what happened today.”
I hope so, for Tucker’s sake. I fall asleep, pondering that thought.
It’s two am. Charlie’s sleeping, her mouth forming a perfect “o”. I’ve been listening since Tucker and Lila left, and I’ve still not heard Blake’s truck start.
I ease out of bed, noiselessly pulling a sneaker on my left foot. I slip out of the room and peek out the window. He’s laying on the hood of his truck, his arm over his eyes.
I quietly open the front door and make my way down the steps. He gets up immediately, sliding to the ground and waiting as I approach. The night air is cool and damp as I hobble toward him, my crutches crunching in the gravel as I consider whether or not to beat his ass.
Not yet, I decide. I want to hear what he has to say first. I study his face, noting the bruise along his right jaw and making a mental note to compliment Tom on a solid hit.
“You gonna punch me too?” he asks, shoving his hands into his front pockets.
I’m not sure if he thinks a one-legged guy on crutches can’t flatten him or if he knows he deserves it. I’m good either way. “Undecided. Why are you here?”
“I just want to talk to her. I need to explain.”
“Go ahead.” His eyes fly to mine. “Let’s hear this amazing explanation you have for making her feel like a repulsive monster.”
His spine stiffens. “Jesus. That’s not it. That’s not it at all.”
“As explanations go, that one needs a lot of work.” I survey him, taking in his defeated posture and downturned mouth.
He lifts a hand and runs it through his shaggy blond hair, brushing it out of his eyes. “I wasn’t expecting what she said, what she showed me. You didn’t tell me they tortured and mutilated her.” His accusing tone rings in the quiet night.
I cock my head. “I told you I’d only give you the basics. You knew they kidnapped her. You knew they had her for eleven days, eleven goddamn days. What did you think they did, throw her a party? I told you she was raped. I told you they brutalized her. The rest wasn’t mine to tell. Charlie only shares that information with people she trusts not to see her differently.” I stare at him. “Clearly, she overestimated you.”
He blanches under my glare. “I was shocked, okay? I didn’t know people actually behaved so savagely. I mean, branding? Who does that? You hear stories on the news, but you assume they’re sensationalizing things. You don’t think that stuff happens to real people. People you know.” He pauses. “When she showed me her back, I was horrified by what they’d done to her. I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to hug her, but I knew not to touch her. Saying I was sorry didn’t seem right. She saw my face and asked me to take her home. I kept trying to find the right thing to say, but the longer the silence went on, the worse I felt. I handled it badly, and I need to apologize.”
“So that’s why you’re here? To relieve your guilt?”
“It’s not about me feeling guilty. I want to tell her I’m sorry for how I made her feel.”
“You’re right. This isn’t about you. Charlie’s asleep, and I’m not waking her up for your sorry ass.”
“I’ll wait, then.”
I look at him skeptically. “All night?”
“All weekend, if I have to. I need to make this right.”
I purse my lips. “She’s fine. We’ve got this. Take your guilty conscience and leave.”
“I don’t want to leave. I want her to give me another chance.”
“To do what? Twist the knife a little more?”
“I like Charlie,” he says, his expression bleak. “I just want a chance to tell her I’m sorry.”
“And if she tells you to leave?”
He stands taller. “If I explain things, I don’t think she will.”
“If she tells you to leave, you’re done. No harassing her or trying to change her mind.”
He sighs. “In the morning, let her know I'm here. She’s blocked my number.”
I shrug. “Maybe that’s your answer.” I turn back to the house. When I close the door, he’s back on the hood of his truck, leaning against the damp windshield.
My night is restless, plagued by repeated dreams of Tucker, Lila, Tom, and Mark staring in horror at my scars, which are growing and wrapping around my entire body like huge purple vines. Several times I hear Mark murmuring against my ear, and I drag his arm around my waist until I fall asleep again.
I sleep late and wake up alone. I smell coffee and bacon, though, and that gets me out of bed. Bacon makes everything better. I brush my teeth and run a comb through my hair before going to the kitchen. Mark is flipping pancakes and scrambling eggs from a barstool in front of the stove.
“I was going to wake you if the smell of food didn’t,” he greets me.
“What’s all this?”
“Most people call it breakfast.”
“You’re making pancakes?”
He grins. “They are considered a traditional breakfast food in many cultures.”
I shake my head, retrieving plates and forks, butter and syrup, mugs and juice glasses. “This is a lot of food. Are Tucker and Lila coming over?”
“Not unless you have plans I don’t know about.” He pulls the last pancake from the pan and passes me a platter of them, then scoops eggs into a serving bowl.
I pour juice and coffee for us and sit across from him. I fall on the pancakes and bacon like a starving woman, and he chuckles.
“Hungry?”
I nod. “I’m still not sure why you made so much food. I mean, some of it we can reheat tomorrow, but eggs? It looks like you cooked the whole dozen.”
“I thought Blake might want breakfast.”
My fork slips from my hand and clatters to the floor. “Blake’s coming over?”
“Blake never left,” he corrects me.
“He’s here?”
He nods. “Say the word and I’ll get rid of him.”
I open my mouth, then close it, frowning instead. “Why is he here?”
“To apologize.”
I scoff. “He just needs to relieve his guilt.”
“That’s what I said.”
My gaze narrows. “You talked to him? When?”
“After you fell asleep last night.”
I tilt my head. “What did he say?”
“That he handled it badly. That he wants to make it right. And I think –” he looks at me, his expression carefully neutral “– I think he’s hoping this isn’t the end of things.”
I’m speechless.
Mark passes me his unused fork. I take it, unable to do more than stare at it.
“It’s your call. I can go tell him to get the hell out, or I can invite him in for breakfast.”
My stomach is in knots. I don’t understand. Blake was horrified when he heard – and saw – what happened to me, but he spent all night in my driveway, waiting to apologize?
Maybe Tom hit him in the head a little too hard.
Mark reaches over, pushing my plate toward me. “Eat. Cold eggs are gross.”
I spear a bite of pancakes, then lay the fork down. “I just don’t get it.”
“I can’t explain his behavior. Just keep in mind, people who haven’t been exposed to military life can be naïve to the atrocities in other parts of the world. Stonings, beheadings, and dismemberments are mainstream punishments in some places, but here, they’re unthinkable.”
I stare at his impenetrable pale blue eyes. “So I should give him another chance?”
He shakes his head. “I’m not saying that at all. I’m your enforcer. You want him gone, he’s gone. You want him in here, I’ll get him. You want to give it a few days and think it over, I’ll give him the message. You want me to beat his ass, I’m all over it. I’ll do whatever you want, Charlie. This is entirely up to you.”
“What would you do?”
“If it were me?” I nod, and he grins. “I’d have cold-cocked him last night and gotten an Uber home. But that’s me. You’re nicer than I am.”
I laugh. “I pulled a gun on the first guy I went out with after I came back,” I remind him. “I’m not sure ‘nice’ applies to me.”
“I didn't call you nice. I said you were nicer than I am. Big difference.”
I stick my tongue out at him, and he grins again. “Fine,” I sigh. “He can come in for breakfast. I want you to stay, though. And if he’s not okay with talking to me with an audience, he doesn’t need to bother coming in.”
Mark nods and heads down the hall. I get up and collect a plate, silverware, and a coffee mug, putting them on the other side of Mark instead of beside me. I pick my dirty fork up off the floor and set out a fresh one for Mark, since he gave me his. I hear the front door open and close, male voices, and two sets of steps approaching.
Blake’s still in the same clothing he wore last night, though his shirt is damp and smudged and the sleeves are rolled up. He walks to the table without his usual grace, instead moving awkwardly and shuffling from foot to foot.
I pick up my fork and take a bite of pancakes. “Have some breakfast,” I offer. Mark sits down and starts eating. Blake perches on the chair beside him but makes no move toward the food.
Mark and I continue eating while Blake sits in silence. Mark finally pushes the serving bowl of eggs toward him. “Eat, talk, or leave.”
Blake’s jaw tightens before he reaches for the bowl. His pissy attitude toward Mark doesn't improve his standing with me, but I hold my tongue.
He helps himself to eggs and bacon before pausing, his fork in midair. “I didn’t know what to say,” he says, his eyes finding mine. “I knew something bad had happened, but I had no idea how bad. I couldn’t think of anything to say that didn’t sound trite, and the longer the silence went on, the worse it got. I still don’t have the right words. I’m not sure what the look on my face was.” He stares at the table. “I’m guessing I looked disgusted, and I was. What they did to you makes me sick. But I don’t see you as a monster. You were just a victim.”
Mark presses his lips together and hardens his jaw at the same time my hackles rise.
I’m not ‘just a victim’. I’m a survivor.
No, I’m more than a survivor. I’m a warrior.
Those assholes may have outmuscled me, but I was stronger than they were.
“I’m sorry, Charlie. I’m sorry I handled things so poorly and made you feel bad about yourself. You’re still beautiful to me, even with your scars. Please forgive me.”
I’m “still” beautiful.
To him.
Even with my scars.
His words grate on me like nails on a chalkboard. It’s like he’s deigning to look past my hideous outer shell to focus on my inner beauty, like he’s taking one for the team because of what I went through. It reeks of condescension. I do believe he didn’t intentionally hurt me last night, and I can forgive that, but I won’t make the same mistake again.
“I forgive you, Blake.”
He relaxes his tense posture, and the three of us eat in silence. There’s no cozy chit chat. Mark looks annoyed, and I have nothing else to say. I offer Blake coffee when I realize I forgot to get him some. He shakes his head. “I’m going to go home and get a few hours of sleep,” he says, stifling a yawn. “Would you like to have dinner tonight? Maybe go to the movies?”
“No, Blake. We’re finished.”
“But I thought –”
I push back from the table and stand. “You see me as a victim. Those bastards did horrible things to me, but I’m not a victim. I fought like a fucking wildcat the entire time. That’s why I have so many scars. I’m a survivor, but more than that, I’m a warrior. And frankly, I deserve someone who doesn’t patronize me by insisting he can still see me as beautiful, even if I’m scarred. I deserve someone who doesn’t feel the need to reassure me that he doesn’t see me as a monster.” Blake’s mouth falls open. “Stay away from my clinic. You aren’t a client. If you need to talk to Tom, call him.”
“But Charlie –” he splutters.
I meet his eyes determinedly. “Goodbye, Blake.”
Mark stands and glares at Blake. When he doesn’t get up immediately, he pokes Blake’s foot with one crutch. “You heard her. You can leave now, or you can leave bleeding. Your choice.”
Blake’s face reddens. “Fine. But –”
“Don’t forget what I told you, Blake.” Mark’s voice is soft but laced with warning. Blake shoves his chair back and storms from the room, slamming my front door on his way out so hard that it rattles. Gravel clatters against my porch as he speeds out of the driveway.
“Sorry,” I say in the sudden silence.
Mark stares after him. “Me too. I really wanted to pound the hell out of him.”
I chuckle, coming over to wrap my arms around his waist. He shifts his crutches aside and kisses the top of my head. “What’s that for?”
“For being my enforcer, among other things. Thanks.”
He slips one arm around my shoulders and squeezes tightly. “Anytime, Baby Girl. Anytime.”