Page 5 of Scar Tissue

“What was that?” Dylan asks, and I’m thankful she didn’t catch it.

I shake my head. “Nothing. I was just agreeing with you.” I smile, but I can see she doesn’t completely believe me.

Nathan straightens, brushing his hands against his jeans, and his gaze flicks to mine for the briefest moment. There’s a question in his eyes, a silent plea, but I can’t answer it. Not here, not now. Quite possibly never. It would raise too many questions and feelings that are already threatening to spill over in me. Instead, I force myself to look at Fletcher and then Dylan, keeping my tone as even as I can. “Let’s get moving, shall we?”

We’ve beenon the road for a while now, and are about halfway back to Dylan and Fletcher’s house. Dylan switched with Fletcher to drive, despite his protests and Nathan’s offers. Which means I’m stuck in the back seat with him, Alaska a buffer between the two of us. We haven’t said a word to each other since he came blowing back into my life, unexpected and entirely unwanted. I had pretended to be asleep just to avoid any more conversation and questions about how we know each other, but I know whether I want them to or not, they’ll come and I’ll be forced to answer.

I can feel his eyes on me every couple of minutes, like he’s trying to figure out what to say—or maybe what not to say. He knows I’m not asleep, he’s always been good at noticing my tells. It’s absolutely unbearable, but I refuse to acknowledge it. That is, until the truck hits a bump and it jostles me enough that I have to adjust. Dylan glances at me in the rearview mirror, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and fatigue. “Glad you’re awake, sleeping beauty. We need to talk to you before we get back.” And here it comes… “We’re happy to have you closer, but we didn’t really think about what happens when we get back.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, dread seeping into my gut.

She grimaces at me, which doesn’t help the swirling anxiety taking over my body. “We didn’t really anticipate having to host anyone. Didn’t think that far ahead. The guest room is no longer a guest room. We converted it to a library and office…so we don’t have space for you to stay while you get back on your feet…but?—”

I have a feeling I know exactly what they’re going to suggest next and I will take no part in it. “I’ll stay in a hotel, it’s fine.” But I can’t afford to do that. I haven’t been working and until the divorce finalizes between Lucas and I, I won’t have anything unless I get a job. Fuck. She must see the conflict in my face as her gaze darts between me in the rearview, and the interstate.

“She can stay with me. I have a few extra bedrooms.”Fuck. No.But it’s too late because Dylan is already beaming in the mirror at Nathan’s words.

“That’s exactly what I was going to say, not to impose my invite on you, Nathan, but I figured you have no use for all the extra space—well, unless you’re involved in things we don’t know about. But it’ll be perfect because it means you guys can catch up and we will all be close enough to hang out together.”

Great. I force a tight smile, trying to keep my irritation under control because this is something Dylan doesn’t know about and I would rather keep the trauma dumping to a minimum. “That’s really not necessary. I can figure something out.”

Nathan, of course, doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s no trouble, really. The house is way too quiet, and it’ll be nice having someone around. I’m not there during the day much anyway due to work. You can stay as long as you need.” The worst part isn’t the offer itself—it’s the way he says it, casual and sincere, like he’s doing me some huge favor when I know it’s only to his advantage. To try and earn back our friendship. And the way Dylan’s practically glowing with approval in the mirror doesn’t help. She thinks she’s helping in doing me a favor, doing the right thing by making everything as smooth as possible for me, but this…this isnotthe right thing.

“Nathan,” I say sharply, turning to look at him for the first timesince we got in the truck. His gaze meets mine, holding me in place like he’s a fucking siren. “I appreciate it, but I really don’t think?—”

“It’s already settled.” Dylan cuts in cheerfully, her voice an irritating contrast to my rising panic. “You’ll stay with Nathan for now. At least until you figure out your next steps. We’ll help where we can, too.” Damn her. If it wasn’t for everything she’s also endured in the last year, how long it’s taken for her to get back to her normal self, I would have no issue shitting on this idea. But she’s so happy with it I can’t bring myself to ruin it, so I just say, “I’ll think about it.”

Nathan leans back, resting his arm casually on the edge of the seat. “It’s settled,” he echoes, and I can hear the smug undertone in his voice even if his face remains annoyingly neutral. I turn back toward the window, clenching my jaw as I stare out at the passing scenery. The sinking feeling in my stomach only grows. This was supposed to be a clean break, a fresh start. Except the memories that resurface with his presence are anything but. Dylan changes the subject, chattering about things I don’t care enough to pay attention to at the moment. All I can focus on is the reality of what’s waiting for me. The house. The memories.

Him.

And there’s no escaping any of it now. Even if I stayed somewhere else, it’s evident that I won't escape him unless I want to end my friendship with Dylan—because they’re friends with Nathan, too.

I am so. Utterly. Fucked.

Chapter

Four

NATHAN

It never occurred to me to even look Thea up. To ask Dylan if they had pictures together. To be nosy via social media. Why would I? Thea isn’t that uncommon of a name, right? If I even remotely thought her Thea was the same as my Thea—as if I even have the right to call her that—I would’ve done something. Said something. Asked questions. Avoided coming on this godforsaken trip entirely. I’d spent years trying to forget. Forget the accident, forget the helpless feeling that still threatens to consume me day in and day out, forget her, the look on her face when she realized he wasn’t coming back, the look she pointed at me filled with blame. But I never could, not really. That look haunts me, even now after all this time. And the way she looked at me when recognition sparked…it was the same. She was the same. Except not.

She was a woman now, even more striking than the last time I saw her. I always thought that maybe there was a future for us, despite the years that separated us and the fact that she was convinced she was going to spend the rest of her life with her high school sweetheart.

The very douchebag that carved her heart right in two. When thetime was right, I was determined to convince her that he wasn’t right for her, and deep down I always thought she knew that. No, that’s not true, she always knew it. I caught it in the way she watched me when she thought I wasn’t paying attention—her gaze always lingering for a moment too long. I caught it in the way she would brush her hair behind her ear when I’d drop a casual comment. The way her lips would twitch ever so slightly when I said something that hinted at feelings that had only continued to grow. It was always subtle, but it was there, just as the age difference between us had always been a quiet tension, an unspoken thing we both acknowledged but could never give a voice to. Seven years.

On the surface, it was nothing, especially considering how we had grown up together. But there was a line that I refused to cross. The moment I realized she was becoming more mature, she was still so innocent, so full of dreams and ideals, thinking she had all the time in the world to figure things out. She believed she was in love with Lucas and I let her live that reality because most relationships don’t last after high school. And then there was me, sitting there on the other side, already well aware of the reality that life was fleeting. That time slipped away faster than you could catch it. But I knew, deep down, that it wasn’t fair for me to make my move, to let my feelings cloud the space where her own growth needed to happen.

She was growing into herself, and I watched it happen from a distance. I knew how dangerous it was, how fragile the boundary was between us. Not just because of everything that separated us, but because of my best friend, her brother—Miles. But even then, I was patient because I saw who she was and who she could be—strong, smart, and capable. Hell, I wanted her to be all of those things, independent and free to choose her own path without anyone, least of all me, influencing her decisions. But when she turned eighteen, something in me shifted and while it wasn’t a sudden revelation, it was a culmination of several years waiting for her to catch up. But then the accident happened. And everything—everything—got destroyed.

She was never supposed to see me as someone who could hurt her. Never supposed to look at me the way she did that day, with the same sadness, the same blame that’s present in her still. But it was too late. I never bothered to seek her out after that. I never looked for the apology, gave her the apology, or the answers we both needed after Miles died. After Ifailedto save him. Because a part of me was terrified of what I’d find—of what she’d still think of me, of how the ghosts of that day would come rushing back. Butfuck,if I don’t regret it now. My ignorance, distance, and the pretense that I’ve moved on from something I never truly left behind is biting me in the ass. How the fuck am I supposed to pretend like we aren’t strangers in a shared history? How am I supposed to pretend like I wasn’t still aching for the girl I had hoped would one day be mine?

It was stupid of me to offer her a bedroom knowing Dylan would only encourage it. It was stupid knowing that the only way Thea looked at me now was with contempt. But god, the masochist in me would give up everything I am, everything I have, just for the chance to be near her and to bask in the quiet beauty of her presence, even if it means drowning in the ache of never being enough for her. Even if it means being the one she will never choose.

Dylan pulls into my driveway before the sun starts to rise and puts the truck in park. The engine hums for a moment, the silence in the cab heavy until Fletcher breaks it by opening his door and stepping out, likely to help carry some of Thea’s items in. Opting to join him, I do the same. As soon as I do, I can feel his eyes on me. He knows. He might not know exactly what it is, but he knows there’s more under the surface than I’m letting on. It’s what makes him so damn good at his job. But thankfully, he doesn’t say anything. Just like I know when he knows something, he also knows that I’ll talk about it when I’m ready. We work in silence as we move the few bags, boxes, and essential items into the house. She won’t need the furniture since it’s already furnished, so we plan on taking that to storage when we’ve all had a chance to rest.

It takes no time at all for Fletcher and I to move everything in andthen he and Dylan are gone, and I can hear the front door creak open behind me. I don’t turn to look, but I know she’s standing there—close enough that I can feel the weight of her presence, but far enough that it feels like a distance I’ll never be able to bridge. The air continues to shift the farther inside she steps. I never thought I’d see her again like this, never thought I’d see her again in general. But under my roof? The woman I could’ve had, should’ve had, is a different level of fucked. I brace myself for the inevitable—for her to hurl unpleasant words at me, for her to throw herself at me and beat my chest in frustration and fury, but instead she quietly shifts from foot to foot, letting the silence continue to hang between us.