Page 33 of Born to Scar

My sweet girl is sleeping beside me, like she didn’t just rip my heart out of my chest with her bare hands. She stopped her story abruptly, lying down, going back to sleep. I knew it was bad, but not like that. She told me we’re cut from the same cloth. There is no comparing her years of abuse to my one night.

Cam and I haven’t moved, just staring directly in front of us.

“The night I went back to the cemetery and found her at her sister’s gravesite. I tried to ask her what happened because she was so young. She said, ‘Don’t. You’ll never be ready for that story.’ She was fucking right,” Cam whispers, still looking into the void in front of him.

“Yeah, that’s about how it went with her tattoo, too.”

“I had no idea what that meant. I thought it just looked sick as fuck.”

I chuckle softly. “It’s one of the best versions I’ve seen, but it is an ugly truth. Bik’s artist is talented, and it shows through her.”

He sighs and turns his head to face me. “What do we do with this? I feel like my heart has been crushed, while she sleeps soundly between us.”

I have no idea what we do with this. Her father is a cop. They are above the law they’re meant to protect. But now I understand her reaction to them all the time.

“Man, I don’t know. We keep making her happy, I guess. There’s nothing we can do about it now. It’s been too long. You know that.” He nods and turns back to face the front of the room again, letting the silence and time linger.

His head slowly turns back toward mine. “Jay, you have one too,” he whispers.

I nod, not meeting his burning gaze.

“Yours is different. It’s hard to notice if you aren’t looking for it.”

“That’s on purpose.”

“Jay…” he whispers. His voice is pained and cracking.

“I can’t, Cam.”

He’s the only other person to notice or to ask about it anyway. He reaches over, gently placing his hand on my shoulder. The spark of his touch shoots fire through my veins.

“That’s okay. I’m here when you can.”

There is no way I can go back to sleep now, and I need to create some space. That touch sparked something I need time to think over. “I’m going to take a shower and start breakfast. You’re more than welcome to anything and to look through what I have, but I don’t think I’ll have anything that’ll fit. You look like you played defense on a hockey team.”

Cam’s head jerks toward me. “How the fuck did you know that?”

I smirk. “Because I was a winger—faster and better, leaner.” I give him a wink, getting off the bed, headed to the shower. The sound of his scoff follows me.

What a goddamn morning. The woman I thought I knew, I know nothing about, not really. I know nothing of the horrors she’s lived through. She appears to be thriving, on the outside looking in. But then there are those rare moments where she loses herself, and you can see how broken she truly is.

I’ve always thought some of the things she says were her way of humorously working through a problem. I’m starting to think that’s not it at all. In those moments, I believe she’s being honest in her feelings—more honest than her usual carefully placed mask.

And now there’s Cam and a whole new mess of feelings and anxiety that come with those.

I’m in the middle of cooking when Cam comes down. He’s showered, in his slacks and a big enough T-shirt of mine.

“This’ll have to work.” He shrugs. “Anything I can do?”

I shake my head. “Nah, I’m almost done. If you want coffee, there’s some ready.”

He nods and makes his cup. I finish the eggs as the toast pops from the toaster. I load the serving plate with bacon, eggs, and toast and put it on the island. It’s nearly noon, and we haven’t heard a peep from Indy.

“I’ll be back. I’m going to get her up. It’s late, even for her,” I say.

Cam nods, putting food on his plate. As I walk in the door, the bed is empty, and she’s in the bathroom. I can see her in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. She’s staring at herself and looks disgusted.

How can she not see what I see? She’s so beautiful. She’s all I see. She’s always been all I see.