Page 8 of Scar Tissue

I let out a sharp laugh, but it feels brittle, even to me. “You practically did. You knew I had nowhere else to go. Believe me, if I did, I wouldn’t be standing here. But I am and now I’m stuck in your house, with you.”

“I didn’t bring you here for me, Thea! I brought you here because you were drowning.”

I flinch, his words landing harder than they should have. He’s not wrong, and I hate that he knows it. “I didn’t need saving,” I snap, the bitterness laced with a tremor of doubt.

“Yes, you did,” he says quietly, a softer tone than he used moments ago. “I know that because I’ve needed it, too. I just didn’t realize it until I walked into your damn house the other day.”

“What does that even mean?” I demand, needing something to focus on besides the ache in my chest. “You walked into my house and suddenly decided, what? That we could both play savior to each other? Newsflash, it doesn’t work like that.”

He scrubs a hand down his face, his frustration evident, but there’s something raw in his expression that keeps me rooted in place. “It means I saw you, Thea. Even when you were the last person I was expecting to see. I saw the way you were just…existing. Going through the motions like the walls were closing in. I may not know exactly what you’re going through or what’s happened to you, but I recognize that—because that’s exactly how I felt after Miles died. It’s how I’ve felt almost every damn day since then. You think I don’t know what it feels like to hit bottom? So please, for the love of god and the memory of your brother, stop treating me like some intruder in my own damn home.”

“That’s not what I’m doing?—”

“Isn’t it?” He cuts in, his voice sharp. “You avoid me, you barely speak to me unless you have to, and then when you do, it’s like you’re aiming for the kill. If I remind you of him, fine. I can’t help that. But don’t punish me for it. You don’t want to tell me whatever happened between you and that douchebag ex of yours? Also fine. We don’t have to be friends, Thea. I get that you don’t want that from me. But at least let me fucking help. We’re here now, and even if we weren’t, we’re going to have to get used to each other’s company because Dylan’s your best friend and Fletcher is now mine.”

Before I can say anything back, he shoves past me, his heavy footfalls sounding down the hallway as he goes back to his room. I stand there, the sting of his words cutting through me like shards of glass. The weight of everything he said presses on my chest, squeezing the air out of my lungs. What does he know? What can he possibly understand? He wants to be here for me now? Wherewas he after Miles died? It makes me want to tear my hair out. But the way he said it—so raw, so real—keeps me rooted in place. He doesn’t get it. He couldn’t get it. My knees nearly buckle and I have to walk back to the couch to steady myself. My thoughts are a mess, tangled up in Hallie, in Lucas, and now Nathan. I want to throw it all out. Trying to distract myself, I open up my phone and notice I have several missed notifications. Most of them are from my mom, checking in on me and asking me to come home. There’s nothing from Lucas, not that I expected anything after I had him served with divorce papers earlier this week.

It made me feel a little better knowing I had the one-up on him in something. He didn’t even try to hide the affair, not that there would’ve been a point after I found evidence of it on his phone and was able to send it to myself. The quicker we could go through with ending this, the better. I wouldn’t even try to fight with him on anything if it meant getting away from him and my previous life as fast as possible. Not that there was much to split anyway seeing as the house was on base, unowned, and we don’t have any children…anymore.

The only other notification I have is from Dylan, reminding me of our plans to go out tonight. I don’t know why I agreed to them. Maybe it’s her strength after everything she went through that encourages me. Which is exactly why I couldn’t say no. She’s also one of the few people who knows how to pull me out of my head. Or maybe I’m just tired of being alone with my thoughts, tired of letting everything that’s falling apart consume me. I’m crossing my fingers it’s only she and I, but I also know better than that…which could only mean one thing. Nathan is also going to be there.

I’ll be ready. What time do you want to meet?

My phone pings back almost immediately.

How about eight? Fletcher and I will pick you and Nathan up.

Called it. I lean back against the couch, staring at the empty room around me. How awkward is that going to be if he and I can’t even talk without grating against each other like sandpaper? Instead of trailing that train of thought, I get up and go back to my room. When I enter, I survey what I’ve gradually transitioned into my home away from home—I didn’t change anything on the bedding besides adding one of my favorite blankets, and I’ve stacked my books on the desk and along the floor by the lounge chair. Hallie’s urn sits in the center of the desk, and I’ve unpacked most of my clothes into the closet. There are a few boxes I’ve left unpacked, mostly things of Hallie’s that we never got to use, but I couldn’t bring myself to send them to storage either.

I throw myself onto my bed, opening up my laptop where it sits half charged on the edge.

I want to go out. I wish that Lucas and I would have invested in a second vehicle, but living where we did…and how often he was gone, we never had the need for one. Usually one of us would get by using the one, or using taxi services if either of us had separate places to be the same day. We tried to reduce our debt as much as possible. Both of our names are on the one I left there though, so maybe I can bargain for that in the divorce. I don’t want anything from him, but it would be practical and easier getting a vehicle that is already paid off, especially without significant work history or a job in general at the moment. I could ask to borrow Dylan or Fletcher’s, but they’ve already done so much for me, it would feel like I’m putting them out even further.

Sighing, I scroll, hoping to find something to distract me. I could watch something I guess, but it would probably better serve me to do some job searching. I’ve wallowed all week and the sooner I can get out of this house, the sooner Nathan and I can go back to the way things were…mostly.

Chapter

Seven

THEA

Ican’t remember the last time I went out. It had to be several years ago now, and it shows based off of the clothes I have available in my closet. Not to mention the way my body has changed. I’ve lost most of the baby weight, but things don’t fit quite the same. Dylan said we’re going to a club that she went to with some of the friends she had made from class before she was kidnapped, much to Fletcher’s displeasure. I choose a black mini skirt that I pair with tights and a pair of chunky platform boots. For the shirt I opt for a blue camo top that laces all the way up the front, with a bra that goes mostly undetected. It isn’t exactly warm outside but it will be inside the club. I open my door to walk across to the bathroom. When I get inside, I close the door so I can do my hair and makeup.

It’s been so long since I’ve put this level of effort into my appearance and it feels…nice. Normal. I actually feel more like myself than I have in a long time. Tonight won’t erase the past or the pain, but maybe it’s a step in the right direction. I tame the curls of my hair, pulling it back into a bun on the top of my head—the color such a dark brown it’s practically black—before I paint a light bit of makeup on my face that accentuates not only the brown of my eyes but the freckles dusted across my nose. When I decide I’m pleased with my appearance, I clean up my mess and leave the bathroom, bumping directly into a hard side. Startled, I stumble back, my hand instinctively flying to steady myself against the doorframe.

My breath catches as I look up and find myself face to face with Nathan. His expression shifts instantly from surprise to something more complicated before he rights himself. But I caught whateverthatwas. His eyes sweep over me, lingering just a second too long, and I catch the way his jaw tightens, the faint clench of his fists at his sides. He blinks, dragging his gaze back to my face as though it takes effort. “Sorry,” he says gruffly, stepping back to give me space. His voice is steady, but I don’t miss the tension in his shoulders that I could swear wasn’t there moments ago.

“It’s fine,” I say quickly, my tone more neutral than it has been when addressing him. I brush past him, my head held high even though my pulse is thudding louder than it should be. I know I look good, but the way he looked at me just now was almost too much to process. Like he didn’t know whether to admire it or curse it. As I move past, I feel his presence like a tangible weight. His silence feels charged, like he’s holding something back, and when I glance at him out of the corner of my eye as I exit my bedroom again after grabbing my purse, he’s still standing there, watching me, his hands shoved into his pockets now. His knuckles are white though, gripping whatever’s inside.

“You coming?” I ask, trying to act casual like his reaction hasn’t sent a ripple through me. One I refuse to acknowledge.

“Yeah,” he says and clears his throat. He finally moves, his strides purposeful as he falls into step behind me. Tonight has suddenly become more than just letting loose; it’s about keeping things on neutral ground. About showing not only him, but myself, that I can do this without letting the weight of the past drag me under. We step outside, and the crisp night air brushes against my skin, cooling the heat that’s rising in my chest. The porchlight casts a soft glow over the driveway and I spot a sleek black car idling at the curb. Thesound of laughter drifts from the open window and I instantly recognize Dylan’s warm, familiar voice. As we approach, she leans out of the passenger seat, her straight blonde hair catching in the light.

“Finally!” she calls, her grin widening as she takes us in. Her eyes flick between the two of us, lingering on me for a moment before she whistles low. “Wow, you look incredible.”

“Thanks,” I reply, a faint smile tugging at my lips as the familiarity of our friendship settles in. Dylan always has a way of making compliments feel genuine, like she’s seeing you, really seeing you. Fletcher leans over from the driver’s seat, flashing me a grin that’s just as warm, and I really don’t think I’ll ever get used to how different it is from his normal pensive appearance.

“She’s not kidding,” he says. “You clean up nice”