Scarred Page 6

  “I accept it, Ruby. I don't fight it. There's a difference.”

  “I don't believe you,” I said, spinning away from the counter to stand toe to toe with him. “I don't think you accept it at all. I think it haunts you—it's the one thing you can't seem to escape. It makes me sad when you're like this. You push me away. I'm not even sure you know you do it…” I tried to soften my face, lighten my tone, but a frustration was building in me that I couldn't control. “I'm going to go,” I said, heading to the door. “I guess tonight you succeeded.”

  I moved past him without any resistance. It was maddening that I was doing exactly what he expected, but I just couldn't deal anymore. My temper was rising and I didn't want to say anything that couldn't be taken back or push too far. I had finally learned that occasionally it was best to walk—not run—away.

  My hand lingered on the door before turning the knob.

  “Are we done here?” I asked, giving him one last opportunity to stop the ridiculous turn our conversation had taken.

  “Are you done here?” he countered, emotionless.

  “I'm done with whatever it is we're doing right now. And there didn't seem to be much else to discuss regarding the Rev, so...” In that moment, I had a minor epiphany, and I glared at him with questioning eyes. “There never was much to discuss about him, was there? We could have done that over the phone. Why did you make me come here to have it?”

  “What's your point?” he asked, leaning back against the kitchen island.

  “That you didn't bring me over here to talk about the Rev at all. Something else is going on.”

  “Wrong.”

  “Really?” I quipped. “I know you didn't bring me over here just to see me. You already saw me earlier tonight.”

  I felt the heat emanate from him immediately.

  “Yes, I did see you earlier,” he said, eyes nearly glowing in the dim light of the room. “A lot of you.”

  “I'm out of here. Whatever you're doing right now, I'm not up for it,” I said, flipping my hand through the air for emphasis. “I'll call you once I talk to Alan.”

  “I'll expect a full report,” he replied as I swung the door open. I turned back to see him, unmoved and unfazed by my exit. A real cool cucumber.

  “I don't know why you're doing this,” I said, my voice wavering slightly. “I feel like I just got you back. Thanks for fucking that up for me.”

  I slammed the door before he could say something else—put any more nails in the coffin. He had done a near one-eighty in a single night, and I couldn't wrap my head around it. Something was eating at him, and true to form, he wasn't sharing. If I wanted to know what was up, I needed to outsource for information. I pulled my cell out of my purse and punched in Peyta's number.

  “Hey, P. Is Jay there? I need to talk to him...”

  6

  “What's up, Ruby?” he asked, sounding somewhat exhausted but concerned nonetheless.

  “Jay,” I said sternly, “I need some answers. Now.”

  “About what?” he replied, his tone turning quickly to confusion.

  “Sean.”

  “Oh boy...”

  “I'm serious, Jay. Are you going to help me or not?”

  “Well, that's going to depend entirely on what kind of answers you need, Ruby. I'm not at liberty to openly discuss PC business with you.”

  “Says who?” I asked, voice rising.

  “Who do you think?” he said, annoyance starting to taint his words.

  “So you can't tell me why I had to go over to his house tonight?”

  “He told you why,” Jay replied, sighing outwardly.

  “No. He told me he wanted to discuss the Rev. That could have been a two second phone call. I want to know what he really wanted to see me for.”

  “Ruby,” he said in the voice used to address small children, “do you think it is possible that he just wanted to see you...be around you?”

  “Normally, I would say that was a possibility, but not tonight, Jay. I think he's up to something. He was acting so oddly,” I replied, tugging my hair just enough to let the sting of it soothe me slightly. “It's frustrating. Things were just getting better between us, and then he ruins it. Does he always clam up like this?”

  “Ruby,” Jay said in a normal voice, “Sean is complicated. Always has been. Sometimes things are black and white with him, others it's all gray. You have to learn to read between the lines.”

  “Between the lines?”

  “Listen. All I can tell you is that if what you're looking for is somebody you can read like an open book, you'd be better off with a guy like Cooper. Sean will never be that.”

  “But it's like he flips a switch, and I've totally missed what happened...what caused the change.”

  “What were you talking about when he got all strange tonight?”

  “He was talking about doing something the 'easy way', and I wanted to know what the hard way was. He wouldn't tell me,” I explained. “Then he got mad and said that I didn't know what he was capable of—what his father had turned him into.”

  Jay made that sharp inhaling sound that can only be done through a grimaced expression. Apparently the conversation had gone further south than he'd anticipated.

  “Not good, Ruby,” he managed finally.

  “I gathered that. Thanks.”

  “Sean's had a hard life. Harder than the rest of us by a long shot. He's developed...” Jay paused, searching for the right words. “Coping mechanisms.”

  “Which are?” I prompted.

  “I don’t know, Ruby. I’m not in the guy’s head. What I do know is that he's a tough nut to crack, and, whether you know it or not, you have on some level or another,” he said softly. “I'd never seen it happen before you came around. There's something about you. He's different when you're around.”

  “Then why do I feel like he’s pushing me away?” I whined, utterly frustrated.

  “Coping mechanism. People can't hurt you nearly as much when they're an arm's length away,” he whispered. “I gotta go. Peyta needs me. Remember what I told you. Don't let him push you. Push back!”

  He hung up before I could say anything else. ‘Don't let him push you’ carried through my mind over and over again. Was Ares so terrible that Sean had become incapable of being loved? Had he broken him? Sean had always been so certain, so fearless in my eyes. What would it have taken to break that spirit? Fracture that soul? My face flushed with anger thinking of how long he must have suffered under his father's thumb.

  I hoped one day Scarlet would get another face-to-face with Ares―so she could remove his.

  * * *

  I dreamt of Ares that night. It terrified me, and when I awoke, I wondered how long it had been since I'd slept peacefully through the night. Light was pouring in through the grand window in my room, and I rolled over to see the clock telling me it was already eleven in the morning. Before I could even throw the blanket off of me, Cooper pounded on the door, not waiting for a response. He barged in seconds after and came to sit on the side of my bed.

  “So what did he tell you?” he asked, munching on some breakfast sandwich concoction.

  “Nothing exciting. He wants me to talk to Alan and see if he knows anyone with clearance in the CIA.”

  “For?”

  “The Rev. Something is up with his file, I guess. Sean's nervous that it could be possible for Keith to be linked to the crimes and what that could mean to our potential exposure,” I explained, crawling out of bed. I'd been so tired when I got home that I didn't bother changing, and was still wearing Peyta's oversized Michigan State sweats. “It seems like that's a long shot, but he's gotta keep things under wraps, so...”

  “So he'll do whatever needs doing to keep it that way,” he finished.

  “Exactly.”

  “Well,” he said, pushing off the bed, “I hope Alan can help. The alternative is...unsavory, to say the least.”

  “Cooper,” I said, turning to face him. “Do you know wh
at the alternative is?”

  He looked pained for a moment before he spoke again.

  “Not firsthand,” he explained, “but there are stories―rumors out there about Sean, about the PC in general, and how they handle messes. You saw what happened to my pack.”

  “Yeah, but those were werewolves, and Sean said they had it coming without even taking into consideration what happened to me,” I said, cringing slightly. I couldn't help it.

  “Yes, in that instance, they were werewolves.”

  I didn't like his implication.

  “Are you saying that they're willing to kill humans too?”

  I didn’t believe it—I couldn’t. I knew the PC could be persuasive, charming, even covert, but it had never even crossed my mind that they would murder humans to keep up the charade. That was so not on my radar.

  “I've heard about families who saw too much, who weren't able to be silenced,” he said softly. “They silenced them.”

  My heart plummeted.

  “No...,” I breathed.

  “Listen, Rubes. It's only what I've heard. I don't know that it's true. Sean's not my favorite, but even I don't like thinking that he's capable of cold-blooded murder...not on humans, but,” he said, throwing up his hands, “it's what I’ve heard. I'm just telling you.”

  I nodded, my mind wanting to reject what he'd just told me. But it didn't. It filed that story far away in its depths, becoming yet another reminder that I couldn't afford to fail.

  “You hungry?” he asked, staring at me while I tried to process.

  “No,” I said, looking past him. “No, I need to get cleaned up, then go down and help Peyta. She's down there, right?”

  “Yep. I heard her and Jay around nine.”

  “Good,” I muttered, grabbing my towel off of the closet door. I walked like a zombie past Cooper to the hall.

  “I'm leaving you food,” he called after me. “You're getting skinny. You need to take better care of yourself.”

  “K.”

  I shut the bathroom door behind me and started the shower up. While I waited, I leaned on the vanity and gazed up at the medicine cabinet. The face looking back at me in the mirror was gaunt, with dark under-eye circles expanding well beyond their normal range. Stress did not look good on me.

  I hurried to get ready, which was hard to do when my hair took twenty minutes to dry. On top of that, I had to spend another ten trying to delicately cover the bluish-black residents under my eyes without looking like I caked makeup over it. When I emerged from the bathroom, Cooper thrust an Egg McSomething into my hand.

  “Just eat it,” he ordered. “Don't make me watch you do it.”

  I gave him a wan smile in return, too tired to thank him for taking care of me. Maybe he felt he owed me one for the time I'd done the same for him. It was what we did― we looked out for one another. Even with his feelings intensifying for me, and mine somewhat uncertain, our friendship never faltered.

  Getting dressed quickly proved difficult when simultaneous eating was thrown into the mix, but I managed to grab skinny jeans and a man's v-neck undershirt and toss them on without greasing them up. I threw on a teal-colored scarf and slipped on some moccasins before heading for the front door.

  When I looked down the hall, I saw that Cooper was standing in front of the open apartment entrance, facing out, as if someone was there. My mind immediately flashed a macabre déjà vu—Cooper standing in front of that same open door, getting peppered with silver shot. I had to brace myself against the wall to breathe for a moment. I hadn't thought about that night for a long time.

  “She's right here,” Cooper said, snapping me back to the present. “Come on in.”

  I looked up to see Matty enter the house. Cooper eyed him studiously as my dance partner sauntered towards me.

  “I told you it would be sooner than later,” he said, smiling. “Want to go have that talk now?”

  ‘No’ was my initial thought. I was too exhausted to think clearly, and I didn't want to make a beyond-precarious situation worse, but I knew it needed to be done, and if he was ready to talk about it, then I could be too.

  “Sure,” I said, forcing a smile in return. “I just need to go down and see if it's okay with Peyta.”

  “Great. So I get to meet Peyta then?” he asked with genuine enthusiasm. “Can't wait!”

  “Actually,” Cooper said, stepping towards us, “why don't you two just go. I'll go down and let Peyta know you'll be coming in later.”

  He stood just behind Matty so his expression could only be seen by me. It was one I so rarely saw: careful, it read, do as I say. Completely confused, but not wanting to alarm Matty, I agreed and thanked him for his trouble. And with that, we were on our way.

  “You wanna go grab something to eat first?” Matty asked as we spilled out onto the sidewalk. “I'm starving.”

  “I actually just scarfed something down now, but I'll get some tea while you get lunch,” I said, looking around to decide which direction would be best to head in. “What are you in the mood for?”

  “Whatever,” he said, with a growing grin. “We are still talking about food right?”

  “Matty!” I yelled and hit him playfully in the arm. “You're such a typical boy. Everything is innuendo with you guys.”

  “So I'm a boy, huh? That's not what the last one said.”

  “Ew, I so don't need to know that,” I said, heading off towards the waterfront. “Do me a favor? Whatever you've been up to these past months that doesn't directly affect me, keep to yourself, please.”

  “Yes ma'am,” he said with an obliging nod. “So where are you taking me to eat?” he asked with particular emphasis on the last word.

  “There are a lot of places on the water. You can pick what you want. I don't care either way,” I said, suddenly very nervous, “but we can't talk about certain things there, okay? We'll have to go somewhere private for that.”

  “I can handle private,” he smirked, lifting an eyebrow for effect.

  “Seriously, Matty. Enough with the double talk.”

  He laughed in response, making me wonder if all the men in my life relished the fact that they could so easily get under my skin. If so, it was clearly the only thing they had in common.

  “Alright, alright,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender. “I’ll be a perfect gentleman from now on...promise.”

  I frowned at him, concerned that he too was acting strangely. Maybe my boys had more in common than I thought.

  He settled on a place I hadn't been to before—a little mom and pop pizzeria with an outside seating area. The wind had bite to it that day, so we were the only ones who decided to brave it. I unhooked the scarf from around my neck and draped it over my shoulders. I'd forgotten to grab a jacket on my way out the door, not having planned on sipping my tea outside, but the privacy was nice, so I suffered silently and endured it.

  “Are you cold?” he asked, watching my white fingers clutch the steaming mug in front of me.

  “I'll be fine,” I replied. “Are you really going to eat two whole pizzas? You do remember me saying that I just ate, right?”

  “Yes, I remember,” he laughed as he pulled up his shirt to expose his eight pack. “What can I say? I have a wicked metabolism.”

  “I guess so,” I said, trying to look away and failing miserably. There was barely an ounce of fat on him. His dance schedule out west had to have been grueling at best to have chiseled him that much.

  “So how have you been?” he asked, shuffling a pepper shaker across the table between his hands.

  “Good. You?”

  “Good.”

  We were off to a blazing start.

  “Where exactly have you been, Matty? I was worried. You wouldn't answer my calls or texts, and—”

  “I had to get away for a bit,” he said, voice low and distant. “Sort some things out.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed, knowing damn well why he'd had to do that. I fiddled with my mug, twirling it round and
round in my hands.

  “I'm not mad at you, Ruby. Not anymore, but...that was a lot to take in, ya know? I had to get away to clear my head for a bit.”

  “I'm so sorry,” I whispered, my head low. I couldn't bring myself to face him.

  “Once I left town, I had some time to process things a bit. Get some perspective,” he said softly. “I know that you were protecting me that night. Is it weird that part of what made me mad was my pride? That I wanted to be the one to protect you...not that you seemed to need it.”

  The waiter came and placed two medium pies down in front of us, recruiting a nearby table to house one of them. It was a ridiculous amount of food, but smelled amazing. I couldn't resist having one piece.

  “Atta girl,” Matty said, sounding every bit the little league coach he'd likely be one day. “Get right in there. You look thin―tired. Are you eating enough?”

  “Why are you the second person to comment on that today? Do I look like a walking eating disorder or something?” I asked, grabbing a second piece of pizza to curb the conversation. In response, he smiled like his mother. Carmen liked to stuff you so full of food that she had to roll you out of the dining room afterward. She was the reason elastic waistbands were invented—“buffet” pants, as Matty liked to call them.

  “Moving right along then,” he said, surrendering for the second time that day. “Ma said you stopped by a couple of times. She said she didn't tell you where I was.”

  “She knew?” I asked, dumbfounded. She'd told me she didn't know what was going on with him at the time.

  He smiled, sheepishly.

  “I told her I didn't want to see you when I left. I didn't tell her why, but I'm pretty sure she thinks you broke her little boy's heart. Carmen may really like you, but no mother is going to stand for that.”

  “So where exactly did you go?”

  “I went out to the west coast. I have a buddy out there—does some commercial fishing. He said he needed somebody for the summer, so I went.”