Page 27 of Scarred

I sit up too quickly, the shift jarring after the calm I just let myself fall into.

“We done?”

She blinks, surprised at my abruptness, but slowly nods her head. “Yes, we’re done.”

I run a hand over the back of my neck before quickly getting to my feet.

Needing to put a barrier between us, I grab my t-shirt and throw it on, avoiding her eye contact as I pull my socks over my feet and quickly tie my shoes.

She’s standing now and walks over, handing me a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” I grunt, taking the drink. Our fingers touch, and I quickly pull away, not trusting myself with her touch right now. I hate the fact that I want her touch—need her touch.

Throwing my ballcap back on, I push it down like armor and grab my phone and keys off the table before walking to the door.

“I’ve got to get back to Scarlett.” I know I’m being an ass, but I can’t help it.

“Of course,” she says with understanding, making me feel like the biggest prick on this earth. It’s not her fault that she’s unleashed all of these emotions in me, causing me to spiral out of control. “Will you be back next week?”

I pause with my hand on the doorknob and struggle to ease this tightening in my chest. Every part of me wants to turn around and tell her yes. Tell her how it’s easier for me to breathe when she’s around. How she reaches places inside me that no one has been able to touch. How her voice alone feels like home.

But I don’t.

It’s easier to walk away than it is to admit I might need her.

“I know I can help if you just let me,” she quietly says, sending pain through my chest like a lightning bolt.

“That’s the problem,” I admit, keeping my back to her as I bow my head. “I never asked for help. I never asked for any of this.”

I walk out without another word, breathing a sigh of relief when I realize the place is empty out front.

Pushing open the door, I take a big gulp of fresh air, trying to ease the pressure in my chest. I down the water, hoping it will help the razor blades clawing at my throat before throwing it in the nearest trash bin.

Needing to keep moving, I keep my head down and walk in the opposite direction of where I parked, wanting to put distance between the brunette that just unraveled me.

The cool breeze feels good on my warmed flesh as I blend in with the small crowd out shopping or eating lunch. It feels different here than in Bayside.

I see two children stepping out of a smoothie place with ice cream in their hands, their faces already covered in chocolate, and I think of Scarlett. The two girls giggle as they sit down at a table under an outside veranda. There are baskets on each table, and I watch them pull out a wooden Connect Four game before they start setting it up.

It’s a wholesome feeling and something I want for Scar.

Wanting to explore more, I pass by a few more mom and pop shops before I come across Inked. Knox told me his brother-in-law, Travis, owned the tattoo shop in Crystal Isle.

Making a mental note to check out his work some other time, I head further down the street until I slowly make my way out of the downtown area. Music drifts out of a restaurant, and I realize it’s the one I saw on my way in.

The smell of delicious food wafts through the air, causing my stomach to growl, reminding me I haven’t had lunch yet. Deciding to check them out, I cross the street and walk up the wooden steps to Rusty’s.

Instead of going inside, I head around back to the outdoor deck and dining area, taking a seat at the end of the bar overlooking the ocean and beach below.

An older gentleman with kind eyes and a grey beard sets a coaster down in front of me.

“What can I get you, son?” he asks with a smile.

“Got any local craft beer that’s good?”

“We do,” he grins. “IPA work?”

“That’s perfect. And a lunch menu if you have one.”