Page 61 of One Quick Obsession

She slid her fingers through mine, and I didn’t let go, instead I rubbed my thumb along the space between her thumb and forefinger, and frowned.

“You see a good person when you look at me. Even when we yell at each other, I don’t think you see the person I used to be. The person I try not to be.” I hadn’t meant to say the words in quite such a transparent way, but they were out, and there was no going back.

She paused, frowning at me as we stood at the edge of a clearing.

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“I haven’t always made the best choices. There’s a reason that I came back to Cage Lake and didn’t go to Denver near the family.”

“Will you tell me about those choices?” she asked.

I opened my mouth to say something, yet my throat tightened, and I couldn’t say a damn word.

She studied my face, and I was afraid I’d see disappointment in hers, instead she pushed back my hair and smiled softly though it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I know all about making poor choices. I thought Ronin loved me. I thought I’d finally found someone that was perfect for me. And then he hit me that first time. And I didn’t walk away.”

“Scarlett. You don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want to.” And frankly if I kept hearing about him, I was going to find him and murder him. Which wasn’t the best thing in the world.

“I sometimes need to talk about him. Because I didn’t walk away. I’d always internally blamed my mother for not doing that. But then I realized that she had tried. She had tried so hard, and my dad had pulled her back in. She hadn’t even realized she’d been closed in until it was too late. And I had found myself down that same path. I talk to my therapist all the time about this, how I’d somehow become a statistic, and yet every statistic has a story. There’s a depth and a breadth to those points in a spreadsheet. We aren’t just numbers, we aren’t just tragedies. We’re human beings who make mistakes and yet realize that those mistakes were also made upon us. I found myself in the same strange life that my mother had been in, and I found a way out. Yes, he’s still around and I want to scream every time I see him or my father⁠—”

“You haven’t seen him recently, have you?” I asked as I gripped her shoulders.

“No. I haven’t. I promise. I’d have told you. Even though I like to deal with things on my own, you’re growlier than me.”

“Damn straight,” I growled, adding emphasis to the words, which made her smile. Exactly what we had both needed at that moment.

“The fact I’m even here with you right now freaks me the fuck out.”

I froze. “Why?”

Though I was just as freaked out.

“Because I’m afraid I’m making those same mistakes. Not that I believe you’d ever do that. But finding trust in a way that I could believe in myself again isn’t something I thought I’d allow myself to do. He irrevocably changed me, and yet I have to find myself forcing a new change. Altering who I am so he isn’t the last mark upon my soul.”

I leaned forward and did the one thing I could do in that moment, I brushed my lips along hers.

“I hate the word strong. Because they always put it on somebody who’s trying to dig their way out from hell, as if strength is the only thing that matters. But you are strong. And you’re erasing those marks from your soul, from everything he touched. You do know that, right?”

“There will always be scars left behind.”

“As someone covered in scars, maybe that’s okay.”

“I like when you speak with wisdom. It’s kind of hot since you’re such a brute.”

I rolled my eyes and took her hand, continuing the trail.

“Will you tell me about what you meant before?” she asked after a moment, and I let out a breath, letting the sounds of nature do what they were meant to do. “I’m not a murderer, but sometimes I feel like I am.”

She nearly tripped over her feet, then turned to me. “Because of the deployments?” she asked, her words so careful.

“Not exactly.” I ran my free hand over my face, and finally at least tried my best at speaking the words that refused to come. “I did what I had to do over there. What I was ordered to. And there will always be horror in my heart and soul over what I did for somebody else’s actions. But that’s not what I’m talking about.” She didn’t say anything, giving me a moment to breathe. “I’ve had one serious girlfriend in my life. And her name was Michelle.”

Scarlett’s eyes widened, and I had a feeling she hadn’t known what direction this conversation was taking.

“Okay.”

“We met in high school, we were sweethearts, voted most likely to get married and be boring in our school yearbook. All of the little things like that.” Her lips twitched, but she didn’t laugh, and neither did I. “I didn’t know what I wanted to do when I graduated high school. Everyone had assumed I would go to college, continue the Cage legacy, but I was so mad at my father for so many things, and I didn’t want to go into business, I wanted to paint. I wanted that artistic lifestyle that had nothing to do with being a starving artist. And that’s not something my dad could understand. So I didn’t go to college right away. I joined the military, and I left. I left Michelle behind, with a promise that I would be back to her. And she kissed me, said she loved me, and that she would wait. We did video calls, wrote letters, emails, did all the things you do on deployment.”