Behind These Scars Read online

  This was probably the most exciting thing to happen in Milton this year; maybe even since I’d been forced into Millwood.

  Margaret was embarrassed about everyone in the town knowing the family’s business. No one wants to be the family with the child in a psych hospital. I’m surprised she allowed me to stay with her after I was released.

  “Look, I probably shouldn’t be asking you this.” A ghost of a smile flashes on his face. “But do you need a place to stay? I have an extra bedroom. And—”

  I don’t have a chance to respond; Luke appears in front of us.

  “You’re right. You shouldn’t be asking that.” His voice is calm and assertive, but there’s an undertone of annoyance.

  He crosses the gap between us and grabs my arm.“She already has a place to stay.” He pulls me to my feet effortlessly, as though I’m a toddler and not a full-grown adult.

  Damian stands up along with me. Tense energy vibrates between the two of them as they size each other up. I can feel Luke’s grip tightening on my arm as he returns Damian’s gaze.

  “Luke,” Damian says, smiling. “I heard you were back in town.”

  Luke raises his eyebrows. “Really? Where’d you hear that?”

  Damian motions over Luke’s shoulder.

  Mrs. Dunne, our next-door neighbor, is standing on the sidewalk in front of our house. Her bony fingers toy with her knit shawl as she talks with two officers. She looks distraught; her gray hair sticks out wildly in all directions.

  I’ve known Mrs. Dunne for many years. When my father and I moved into the house, she was the first to welcome us to the neighborhood. In fact, she might’ve been the only person to welcome us to the neighborhood.

  I used to spend my afternoons with her, delaying my return home for as long as I could. She was a widow and had no children of her own, so I think she enjoyed having me around. She’d tell me stories about her time as a nurse in the US Army during World War II. I found some of her tales a little too gory and detailed. I guess being surrounded by war and that much death can desensitize you after a while.

  Although I didn’t always enjoy her stories, I always enjoyed her baking. I can still remember the smells coming from her kitchen as I sat patiently in the living room, waiting for her to set down a plate of treats in front of me.

  Her home was a safe haven for me when Luke or my dad weren’t around. When there was no buffer between Margaret and me.

  Luke arches an eyebrow. “Rose Dunne?”

  “Yeah,” Damian says, “She has a few interesting stories.”

  “Most drunks do.”

  After Mrs. Dunne’s husband died, she spiraled into a depression and turned to drinking. Some days were better than others, but even so, I rarely saw her without the stainless-steel flask she kept tucked away in her apron.

  She tried to keep it hidden from me, but I could always tell when she had a little too much.

  Damian folds his arms under his chest and cocks his head to the side. His eyes narrow as he studies Luke’s face.

  “Let’s go,” Luke growls in my ear, pulling me harshly.

  Jesus. What the hell’s gotten into him?

  “What’s that on your face, Luke?” Damian asks, pointing to the red marks on his cheek.

  “Stubble,” Luke says without skipping a beat. “It happens when you go through puberty.”

  Damian laughs. “Glad you still have your sense of humor. You might want to be careful, though. It could get you into trouble one of these days.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  Damian shakes his head, smiling at Luke. “Not at all. Just an observation.”

  Luke pulls me by the arm and leads me toward the steps. If I weren't so exhausted, I'd give him a fight. As we pass by the front door, I can't help but look inside. Morbid curiosity, I guess. There's nothing to see though. A few officers are scribbling notes while a person in a black jacket is taking photographs.

  Did they think this was a murder?

  “You might not want to wander very far,” Damian calls after us. “A few of us have found Rose’s—uh—drunken ramblings interesting.”

  “You know how to reach me.”

  What was going on? Did Damian think Luke was involved in this somehow? There was no point in asking Luke; he wouldn’t give me a straight answer.

  “I need to grab some clothes from the house. I can’t just walk around in this anymore.”

  Luke pauses and looks at me. I can feel his eyes drag across my skin.

  “I’ll get you something to wear at my place.” He says, still surveying me.

  His grip slackens just enough that I’m able to tear my arm away.

  “Fine,” I say, turning back around toward the house, “but I’m not leaving without Crouton.”

  “Crouton?”

  I turn back around. “Yes. My cat.”

  He’s a large tabby that I rescued not long after returning home. He kept me company, and I wasn’t about to leave him in that house all alone.

  “You’re not bringing a cat to my place.”

  “You act like you have a choice in this matter,” I say, throwing his words back at him.

  His jaw muscles flex. “You know I’m allergic.”

  I forgot about it, actually, but that doesn’t change anything. I’m taking Crouton with me no matter how much of a fight Luke puts up.

  “Get some allergy medicine and deal with it. You’re the one forcing me to live with you, remember?”

  After a few moments, he lets out a barely audible response.

  “What was that?”

  “Fine,” he says through gritted teeth.

  I let out a high-pitched squeal and launch myself at him.

  “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!”

  “He stays in your room. You keep him in there. Door shut. If I see him out, I’ll get rid of him.”

  I can feel his strong arms tighten around me. His left hand slides down my spine to my lower back, warmth penetrating my core. He lets go a few seconds later and heads to his car, but I can still feel the lingering effect of his touch on my body. I try to ignore it as I walk back to the house

  “Have you seen Crouton?” I ask Damian as I reach the stairs.

  “Crouton?”

  “My cat.”

  Damian’s face blanches. “Oh.”

  I snort. “What?”

  He rubs the back of his neck. “Do you think you could grab him?

  “Yeah…” I scrunch my face into a confused frown. “Did something happen?”

  “Sort of. Well, yeah. I guess.” He takes a deep breath. “He kind of attacked Officer Ramirez. He just launched himself on his back and went to town on him.”

  “Did you have to cuff him or something?” I laugh as an image of Crouton being led away in miniature handcuffs flashes in my head. My temper flares at the ridiculous possibility that it might be true. Man, I need sleep.

  “Oh no, he’s fine,” Damian says. “Ramirez on the other hand…” Damian glances of toward the ambulance parked in front of the house. “I don’t think I’ve seen an officer squeal like that before.”

  My face flushes as I try not to burst into a fit of laughter. I feel bad for the officer, but thinking about Crouton…

  It’s too much.

  I rush upstairs and find the furball hiding under my bed. After a little coaxing, I lure Crouton into his cage and head back outside. He whines, clawing at the holes on the side of the case in protest. Damian drags a fingertip across the plastic, touching a tuft of Crouton’s fur that sticks out of one of the holes.

  Crouton spins around and hisses as he bats at Damian.

  “Jesus,” Damian screeches, lurching backward as he covers his finger with his other hand.

  “He’s got a temper sometimes,” I say, lifting the cage up and taking a peek inside.

  “Yeah,” Damian mutters, still rubbing his finger.

  “Goodnight,” I say, turning to leave.

  “The offer still stands.”

  I
pause, considering it for a moment. It would be nice to have a place to sleep that wasn’t a few hours away, but I wasn’t in the mood for any more complications.

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll stay with Luke for now.”

  Damian nods. “No worries.” He reaches into his pocket. “Take this.” He hands me his card.

  I thank him, slip it into my pocket, and then turn to meet up with Luke.

  “Call me if you need anything,” he says. “And Libby…”

  I pause, turning around. “Yeah?”

  “Be careful.”

  I’m not sure how to respond, so I don’t, continuing on toward Luke’s car.

  He’s leaning against its hood, his arms folded across his chest, watching me as I walk toward him.

  Has he been watching me the whole time?

  Just as I step off the sidewalk and onto the street, I see Mrs. Dunne march up to Luke. She’s yelling and screaming and waving a finger in his face. He doesn’t flinch. She seems no more a distraction to him than a gust of wind. His eyes are still locked on me.

  The officer who had been flirting with Luke earlier rushes in and grabs Mrs. Dunne by the arm, escorting her away. The street lights cast an eerie shadow across her face. Tears stream through the deep wrinkles around her cheeks and mouth.

  I can only make out fragments of her incoherent rant as the officer nods along, clearly uninterested. She’s crossing the street toward her house when she points back at Luke, nearly losing the officer as she tries to head back to him.

  “Come on, Rose,” the officer says.

  She turns again, but this time she spots me. Before I have a chance to react, she lunges. I nearly drop Crouton as she grabs my arm.

  Her eyes are fierce but red and puffy from crying. I had no idea that she even liked Margaret.

  “Run. Get away from—from that boy.”

  Mrs. Dunne was the second person to warn me about Luke in the span of a few minutes. The nerves in my gut twist and turn into a tight ball. Her hand falls from my arm as the officer guides her away from me, but her face is burned in my mind.

  Luke calls out to me. He’s brusque and clearly irritated.

  What the hell did I do?

  I don’t respond. I just walk over to the car and place Crouton’s cage in the back seat, still trying to make sense of Mrs. Dunne’s erratic behavior.

  I’m hardly in the car for more than a few seconds before Luke opens his mouth.

  “Don’t talk to Damian.”

  Great… here we go again.

  He’s jealous, defensive, and above all, possessive. It seethes from him, through his voice. By the way he’s gripping the wheel, I’m surprised he hasn’t crushed it yet.

  “What makes you think that you can tell me what to do?” I’m not his property. I’m not something he could boss around.

  His jaw clenches for a moment before relaxing again.

  “You’ll do as I say if you want to stay with me.”

  I snort.

  And there it is. There’s always some caveat with Luke. If you want x, then you better do y.

  He knows I have no other option. I have no money, no friends, nowhere to go. There’s Damian’s offer, but I’m not so sure I’d be any better off with him.

  “I saw the way he was staring at you. He’s unprofessional and a creep.”

  He’s acting as though he hasn’t been looking at me the same way.

  “And Officer Fake-tits was any more professional? I’m surprised you haven’t slept with her yet.”

  “Who says I haven’t?”

  I could feel my neck begin to flush. He was always able to weasel his way under my skin. I snap the band around my wrist. I do it twice more after that.

  “Why do you keep doing that? That thing with your wrist?”

  I ignore him.

  If I didn’t deserve answers to my questions, then neither did he.

  7

  Libby

  This can’t be real.

  It’s the single thought that I’ve been repeating in my head over and over tonight. When Luke and I finally make it to his apartment, a penthouse in the heart of downtown Austin, I find the thought resurfacing yet again.

  Luke’s apartment is refined, elegant, and like nothing I’ve seen before. My mouth’s dry because it’s been hanging open ever since we pulled into his private garage, rode his private elevator to the top floor, and passed through its sleek, brushed-metal door and into his apartment.

  Moonlight streams through floor-to-ceiling windows, dappling the modern, gray furniture and hardwood floors with silver light. Movie stars or real estate moguls lived in these types of places…

  How the hell did Luke afford something as nice as this?

  I set Crouton’s case down on the floor, opening its front to let him out and explore. He sniffs the air cautiously at first, barely poking his head out, but then abruptly launches himself out of the cage and skitters down a dark hallway.

  Luke tosses his keys into a basket next to the door. “Remember our deal. Keep him in your room.”

  “He’s nervous. Let him explore for a—”

  My request for leniency is denied after something fragile, something very fragile and quite large, crashes to the floor down that same dark hallway.

  Crouton…

  I glance at Luke. He’s trying not to look pissed, but it’s written all over his face.

  “Sorry.”

  He sighs. “The guest bedroom is the first door on the right,” Luke says, motioning behind me.

  I wasn’t looking forward to seeing the mess Crouton made. I might have to ban him from cuddling with me tonight. Well, probably not. I could never turn down his cuddles.

  “You should probably get some rest, Libby.”

  My name sounds so good on his lips.

  He places his hand on the small of my back. “Follow me.”

  He moves with confidence and grace, each step purposeful. My nostrils flare as I breathe in his scent. Its effect on me is just as strong as ever.

  We pause in front of the guest bedroom. Luke reaches for the doorknob, but at the last moment, he turns to me and cups the left side of my face. Warmth radiates from his hand and trails down my skin, pooling in my core.

  I glance at his lips as I wet mine. I wonder what they taste like, and how’d they feel against my skin.

  He lets his hand fall from my face a few seconds later, leaving me more than a little disappointed. It’s silly how easily Luke weaves himself inside my emotions, like a thread in an intricate tapestry. I thought I’d be able to keep them in check by now, but with everything that has happened to me over this past month—this past day, really—I’m finding it difficult.

  Tears build in the corners of my eyes. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  “You’ll stay here with me,” he says, brushing my hair back with his fingertips.

  My stomach flips as a million little pinpricks dance across my skin. I crave Luke’s touch no matter how much I wish it otherwise. I always have, and I always will.

  I look up at him through tear-soaked eyes.

  “I can’t stay here forever.”

  “Of course,” he says, almost wistfully, “but a week or two can’t hurt, right?”

  I’m not so sure, to be honest. My life has rapidly descended into chaos ever since Luke reappeared.

  Margaret’s dead. She's actually dead.

  I almost laugh at the absurdity of it. I never liked Margaret, but I never wished her dead either. And there’s a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach telling me that this isn’t the end of it.

  I shut my eyes, but all I see is Mrs. Dunne staring back at me. I feel her hand on my arm. I hear her warning.

  There’s more to this story than Luke is letting on, and I’m scared to find out the rest of it. I’m scared that I made a horrible decision to follow him here, disregarding Damian and Mrs. Dunne’s warnings.

  But then again, if something were to happen to me now, Luke would be the clear
suspect.

  Ugh… I need to sleep. I can’t think straight anymore.

  “Where’s the bathroom?”

  I’ve found that a long, steamy shower fixes just about anything. I’d run a bath, but I’m too exhausted; I’d probably fall asleep, slip underneath the water and drown. Luke would have his hands full explaining that one to Damian.

  He points behind me. “Second door on the left.”

  I can feel his eyes follow me as I pass by him and head down the hallway.

  “I’ll put a change of clothes on your bed. After I deal with…” He nods to broken vase Crouton knocked over. “That.”

  I cringe. “Sorry.”

  He waves me off, and I take one last look at him before entering the bathroom. My God that man is handsome. Irritating… but handsome nonetheless.

  The room fills with steam as water streams down my body. Flowery soaps and scrubs and body washes litter the shower. I wonder how many women he’s had over here.

  I know I can’t stay here. It won’t be healthy for either of us. We’ll tear each other apart, limb by limb. But even if that’s the case, a part of me wants it, craves it, because at least I’d feel something. Only Luke can cure my numbness.

  It’s why I started cutting: to feel something, to get rid of the numbness.

  I know I shouldn’t rely on someone else to fix my issues. I know it’s not right or even fair. That’s why I’ve decided it’s best for me to leave as soon as possible. I need to find my own way in life. I need to face my demons.

  I can’t lean on Luke, even though a part of me wishes I could—the same part that’s unabashedly drawn toward him. I wish I could stamp out that part of me because I know he’ll never feel the same way.

  He can have any woman he wants. Why would he pick one as broken as me?

  I turn off the shower, wrap myself in a towel, and head to the guest bedroom.

  A slight chill runs down my spine as the cool air kisses my damp hair. Light filters into the hallway from Luke’s bedroom. The door is ajar, but it’s too far away for me to see inside.

  I head down the hall and open the door to the guest room.

  Before I have a chance to react, Crouton bolts through the doorway. I clutch onto my towel as I rush after him.