Erasing Faith(91)

No one had ever seen my scar. Not my family, not Conor, not my new friends back in New York.

It was part of my past I didn’t share with anyone — the only physical wound left behind to mark the internal pain Wes had inflicted on me. Every time I’d looked into the mirror for the past three years and seen it, I’d also seen him staring back at me. Haunting me, taunting me.

I lifted my chin and made sure my face was contorted in an indifferent expression as I stood there, waiting for him to either say something or walk back outside.

He did neither.

Instead, he just looked at me. His eyes lifted to meet mine and the emotions swimming in their depths were so strong, they nearly leveled me. He stood there, stripped of every defense. His walls were finally down and I could see it all — the sadness and the regret that shone so brightly in his eyes, like two burning beacons of pain.

That look — it tore me apart inside. It made me want to scream at the top of my lungs, slap him across the face, and slam my lips down on his all at once.

I didn’t.

I pinched the fleshy part of my hand as I reminded myself that nothing was different after two days cooped up in a cabin with him. Even if his name really was Wes and he’d come back to protect me, it didn’t mean anything — didn’t change anything.

I channeled every bit of searing, simmering anger I could muster into my gaze and stared back at him.

I had to stay angry. There was no other option. Because if I let go of my rage…

Well, I’d be right back where I’d started: in love with the ghost of a man, who cared nothing for me.

He was just as hazardous as he’d ever been — to my health. To my head. To my heart.

So, as far as I was concerned, he didn’t have a right to regret his actions — not now. Not after all this time, when it was too late. He didn’t get stare at me like he’d do anything to erase the past.

Because, every second he looked at me like that, it was a little harder to remember that he’d ruined my life. That I hated him.

Every second he looked at me like that…. I wanted to be back in his arms, letting the rest of the world disappear.

His mouth finally opened but I turned away before a single word made it past his lips.

“Please,” I whispered, my voice stark as my eyes dropped to the floor. “A little privacy.”

The screen slammed shut a moment later and I pressed my eyes closed, feeling more confused than ever.

***

“So, here’s the thing,” I called, stepping outside onto the porch and planting my hands on my hips.

Wes turned his head over his shoulder to look at me, an eyebrow arched in question. If he was surprised by my change in demeanor from the shaky, silent girl I’d been less than an hour before, he showed no signs of it.

“I need to get out of this damn cabin,” I continued, walking forward and settling in on the stoop two steps above his, making sure to leave a careful amount of distance between us. “I’m beginning to understand the term cabin fever all too well.”

Wes snorted. “Well, you clearly don’t understand the terms hiding out or safe house.”

I narrowed my eyes on the back of his head. “Oh, come on. I need to get out of here and I’ll do just about anything to make it happen. Hell, I’ll wear a disguise — even ugly myself up a little.”

He turned to face me, his lips twisted in amusement. “Ugly yourself up?”

“Yep. You’re ugly enough as it is, so no need for you to partake,” I said sweetly.

His crooked grin came out in full force and I ignored the way my stomach flipped at the sight.

“Thanks, Red.”

“Anytime.” I cracked a smile. “So, is there a diner around here? I could go for pancakes. Oh! Or a burger. Fries. Maybe even a milkshake…. Really, anything that doesn’t come from a can or taste like sawdust would be spectacular.”

He stared at me, unblinking.

“What?” I asked, a little defensive.

“You’re joking, right?” His voice was incredulous.

“When it comes to food, I don’t joke around.” I widened my eyes. “Seriously, I’m starving.”

He was silent.

“Please?” I said, putting on my best puppy-dog pout.

His eyes narrowed.

I jutted out my bottom lip.

“Fine,” he muttered. “There’s a diner a few miles from here.”

I squealed happily.

“One burger. One hour.” His voice was firm. “We’ll be in and out. No arguments.”

The urge to throw my hands in the air and do a victory dance was strong, but I managed to resist. With the promise of real, warm food, nothing could dampen my spirits — not even being forced to wrap my arms around Wes’ torso so I wouldn’t fall off the back of his bike as we sped down the dirt road back toward civilization.

***

“Ohmuhgawd.”

I moaned unintelligibly around the colossal bite of burger filling my mouth. Wes was silent as he watched me devour my meal, both eyebrows high on his forehead.

If I hadn’t been so goddamn hungry, I would’ve been a little embarrassed by my gluttony. I made a forcible effort to swallow before I spoke again, sipping my soda and leaning back against the faux-leather booth with my hands resting on my now-bloated stomach.