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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.”
