Scar Tissue

by Samantha Simard

  Wolfe impulsively pressed his forehead into Sebastian’s palm and shut his eyes. It wasn’t absolution—it was reassurance, which was better. “You’re the second-smartest person I know,” he said, opening his eyes and smiling again when Sebastian’s other eyebrow rose to join the first. “If I bumped Scarlett out of first place she’d kill me.”

  “Duly noted.” Sebastian chuckled, scratching his nails over Wolfe’s scalp briefly before pulling away. “How about we go down to breakfast and you can reassure her that I’m not moving in on her territory?”

  Wolfe pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the burn when an adhesion in his side decided to split and bending to kiss Sebastian on the mouth. “You have the second-best ideas.”

  He got hit with a pillow for that.

  ~***~

  After the #SulliMurphShakeup destroyed the buffet and omelet bar, it was announced (read: shouted) by Caitlin that the men and women would be splitting up for the day. The ladies had reservations for an all-day spa package followed by dinner, and the guys were taking the kids on the Cog Railway up to the summit of Mount Washington for a picnic and hike before dropping them off to head to an adult-beverage bachelor celebration at the bar.

  There were a bunch of children in the group ranging in age from toddlers to teenagers, and they were all excited to go and ride the world’s first mountain-climbing cog railway. This was a pleasant surprise for Sebastian, who’d expected at least some of them to be unimpressed in the way only a middle schooler could be. Everyone was coated in sunscreen before they got on the bus which took them to the train station, where they learned that because of the size of their party they had an entire biodiesel locomotive to themselves.

  The views were spectacular, the types of autumnal-cusp images Sebastian had only seen on postcards sold at Faneuil Hall. He’d never had a chance to spend much time outside Boston, so travelling through the peaks of the White Mountains was a new experience. He found he enjoyed it immensely, especially since he got to sit next to Wolfe for the whole ride, trading glances and ducking their heads like schoolchildren with their first crushes.

  And if he’d thought the views from the train were something special, he was blown away when they reached the summit and stepped outside. While some of the others unloaded picnic supplies, Sebastian joined the children in looking at the sprawl of blue-green mountains below them. He felt a presence at his side, and a glimpse from the corner of his eye showed him red hair and freckled skin… but at the wrong height to be Wolfe.

  Jake glanced at him and smiled a little. He shoved his hands in the big front pocket of his sweatshirt and rocked on his heels. “Expecting somebody else?”

  “Yes, but don’t worry about it,” Sebastian replied, returning the smile with a touch of hesitancy. “Actually, we should probably talk.”

  “That’s what I figured.” Jake stared at the rolling peaks spread in every direction, travelling until they met the clear cobalt of the sky. “I’m presuming you’re serious about Jimmy? Because I know you weren’t serious about me when we slept together. I’m not gonna stand here and pretend that didn’t hurt… but I want my brother to be happy.”

  Sebastian chewed on his lower lip, shutting his eyes briefly. “I am sorry, Jake, for everything that happened,” he said, the words quiet but sincere. “I know it probably doesn’t mean much, and it does not bring your friend back—”

  A hand touched his shoulder, the back gnarled with scars and the fingers just as crooked as his own. “Sebastian, it’s… well, it’s not okay. I’m not sure it’ll ever be that, but I forgive you. Your old man’s a real shithead, and you’ve had to deal with that for years. He had Matt killed, not you.” Vivid green eyes looked at him, much older than they should have been. “Just treat Jimmy right, okay? Don’t hurt him. That’s all I’m looking for.”

  “I… I’ll try my best,” Sebastian whispered, and felt a weight he hadn’t realized he was carrying around slide off his back. “I promise, Jake.”

  “Sweet,” Jake said, squeezing Sebastian’s shoulder once before letting go. “Now let’s go get some of those sandwiches before they get annihilated.”

  ~***~

  One of the reasons Caitlin chose the Mount Washington Hotel for her wedding venue—besides the one-of-a-kind views and the storybook tranquility of the honeymoon suite—was the full-service spa. They did everything from hot stone massages to mud baths, and the whole thing with her brother’s campaign combined with her own stress over flowers, leg waxing, and whether or not the priest would show up drunk meant she needed all the relaxation she could get. Short of getting married in Cinderella’s castle at Disney World, it was perfect.

  After getting all of the kinks worked out of their backs and receiving facials, the girls gathered to get their nails done. And while Caitlin was no detective she also wasn’t blind, and she’d noticed how the tall dark-haired gentleman in the expensive suit tailored to conceal a gun had been watching Scarlett all day. He tried to be subtle about it, but his eyes followed her through every room they entered, a permanent frown etched into his aquiline features.

  Caitlin made sure Scarlett was in the pedicure chair next to hers so she could ask her about it while tiny fish ate all the dead skin off their feet: “Who is that guy? I know he works for your dad, but it seems like he has the hots for you.”

  Scarlett made a gagging sound. “Oh God, no. That’s my ex, Keane.” She glanced at him and he immediately turned away, pretending to be occupied with scanning for threats through a window; the other bodyguard had evidently noticed the same behavior Caitlin had, because he rolled his eyes. “He started working for my father after we broke up—you know, taking the job that my old man insisted I couldn’t do.”

  Caitlin felt her eyebrows furrow. All Scarlett had ever said about Peter Vaughn was that he ran a private security company and the divide in their relationship stemmed from Scarlett’s desire to be a police officer. But now it sounded like after she’d gotten forced out of the NYPD, Scarlett went to her father for a job and got turned away. “He didn’t want you to be a cop… and then he didn’t want you to work in the private sector?”

  Overhearing their conversation, Melissa chimed in by asking: “Is it a sexist thing?”

  Lottie rolled her eyes. “Of course it’s a sexist thing.”

  “That, and the fact that he changed after my mom died,” Scarlett said, wiggling her toes once they were free of the water and in the hands of a pedicurist. “He got super overprotective, but at the same time he wanted nothing to do with me. Said I looked too much like her, that it was painful to look at me.”

  “Jesus Christ—who says that to a kid?” Frogger wondered, unknowingly echoing what Caitlin was thinking, and reached over to squeeze Scarlett’s hand. “I’m think I speak for everyone here when I say I’m sorry your dad’s such a prick.”

  “Thanks, you guys,” Scarlett mumbled, ducking her head in an uncharacteristic show of shyness. She cleared her throat and tried to change the subject: “So Caitlin, on a scale of Tom Brady before a Super Bowl to a male praying mantis after sex, how nervous are you about the wedding?”

  “I’m past the male praying mantis and well into the owner of a china shop when a bull walks in,” Caitlin replied. She shivered, and it had nothing to do with the temperature of the polish being applied to her toenails. “Just thinking about it gives me the heebies and the jeebies.”

  Diana squinted at her. “Are these heebies and jeebies some sort of illness?”

  Maureen patted Diana’s shoulder reassuringly. “No, honey, she’s fine.”

  Melissa glanced at Scarlett and said, “Personally, I’d feel a lot better if we knew where the heck Laine Parker was.”

  Scarlett quickly explained what she and Wolfe knew about Laine’s motives and what Anton had allegedly done to control her.

  Stela swore profusely in Romanian—Caitlin didn’t understand a lick of it, but she knew cursing when she heard it. “There are days I regret marrying that man. What an ass.
”

  “But it’s not like she knows where the wedding is,” Angela piped up. “You guys didn’t put an announcement in the paper or anything.”

  Caitlin nodded and tried to relax—it was the last time she’d get the chance until the reception. “I guess we just have to hope for the best and plan for the worst.”

  ~***~

  When evening arrived, the boys dropped off the kids in their hotel rooms, entrusting the teenagers with the duty of babysitting in return for anything they wanted from room service and as many PG-13 movies as their little hearts desired. Everybody grouped up again after a quick shower and change of clothes to head down to the bar near the lobby. Wolfe had informed the staff ahead of time about Ryan’s bachelor party, and they’d decorated with an absurd amount of glittery streamers and a spread of appetizers and finger foods that ran the length of the bar.

  “Damn, that’s a lot of chicken wings!” Kevin exclaimed. He’d traded in his usual frumpy sweaters and slacks for a blazer and some jeans. “And look, Frankie—they have boneless ones, so you can’t choke like you did at the last family reunion!”

  Wolfe smiled as Frankie grumbled good-naturedly, more than used to the Sullivan family’s banter. While Kevin seemed okay, Wolfe wanted to know how things were between him and Scarlett, so he waited until the bartender was free and snagged a couple bottles of Sam Adams. Then he made his way through the gaggle of partygoers to Kevin, who’d snagged a stool at the far end of the bar, along with a sizable plate of fried pickles.

  Wolfe set a beer down in front of him and took a seat, nodding toward the food. “Those all for you, or can I have some?”

  “Knock yourself out,” Kevin replied. “What’s up, Jimmy? I sense a heart-to-heart coming on.”

  “Scarlett told me you asked her to be your date to the wedding.” Wolfe decided there was no sense in beating around the bush, not when it came to two people he cared about. “For what it’s worth, I think she likes you. Usually I’m the only guy she can stand being around for more than five minutes at a time—after that she tries to bash their heads into a solid object.”

  Kevin chuckled into his beer. “I’ll take that as a compliment, I guess.” He looked at Wolfe from behind his glasses with uncertain eyes. “Do you think I have a hope in hell of impressing her? I mean, she’s… Scarlett, and I’m… me.”

  “Hey, don’t sell yourself short,” Wolfe said, nudging him with his elbow and sniping a fried pickle. “You’re a cool dude, Kev—I should know, I grew up with you. Just be yourself and see what happens.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Kevin muttered, looking Wolfe up and down in a way that was confusing until he continued, “Must be easy to get dates when you’re afflicted with chronic hotness.”

  Wolfe laughed so hard he spit out his beer.

  ~***~

  There wasn’t much Diana liked about herself, but one of the traits she possessed that she found most useful were her observational skills. Not only were they good for her job, they aided her in figuring out what to do in social situations—no amount of training would erase her Serbian heritage, and American women were very different from their Eastern European counterparts. For example, at a Serbian wedding there would be no bachelorette party… and if there were, it would certainly not include watching the bride-to-be get carried around on her chair by a bunch of male strippers.

  “This is the weirdest bat mitzvah I’ve ever been to!” Lottie exclaimed over the din of women screaming and pop music thumping through the speakers. “And I’ve been to, like, fifty of those!”

  Diana smiled at the joke, but her eyes followed Caitlin. She was grinning and laughing, the Shirley Temple in her hand sloshing as the strippers took their final turn around the room. Thankfully they were in the same dining hall from the rehearsal dinner and not an actual restaurant, or someone would’ve tripped over a table and died. That was common sense, not Diana’s observational skills—no, what she’d observed was that Caitlin hadn’t imbibed a single drop of alcohol all day.

  Plenty of people didn’t drink for a variety of reasons, including but not limited to medical conditions and religious beliefs. Diana didn’t fit either of those criteria and had always enjoyed a beer or a nice glass of wine. She knew that Caitlin had a similar nature because she’d observed it at a couple of Sullivan-Wolfe get-togethers David brought her to over the summer.

  Why wouldn’t she at least have a flute of champagne the night before her wedding? There was only one answer Diana thought of, but she wasn’t sure if she should say anything. She knew through Wolfe that Caitlin saw Diana as two-faced and untrustworthy, but she had no ulterior motive, and she had some… experience in the area of pregnancy. Before things had gotten bad in the village, she brought in money for the orphanage by working as an assistant to a midwife. That was before they’d had to count every mouth they had to feed… before Diana was forced to do things that made her wake up screaming as recently as yesterday.

  She was broken out of her thoughts by Caitlin’s chair getting put back down on the floor, and the bride-to-be patting the nearest stripper on his bare chest in thanks before heading for the buffet. It had everything from a fresh fruit and crepe station to a section where you could barbecue your own steak, and Caitlin was snatching up toppings for a burrito bowl when Diana approached her.

  “Are you pregnant?” Diana asked quietly, and she was unable to hide a smile when Caitlin nearly dropped the bowl and looked at her with wide eyes. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you,” Caitlin responded, the words no doubt automatic because of her excellent manners. She grabbed Diana’s elbow, squeezing a little too tightly. “How the hell did you know that?”

  Diana took in a slow breath and fought her training, which told her to slam the burrito bowl into Caitlin’s face in order to break the hold on her arm. “Would you believe me if I said it was womanly intuition?”

  Caitlin continued to stare. “Not for a second.”

  “You didn’t drink any alcohol today,” Diana said. “Not a mimosa at breakfast, no tequila sunrise at lunch… I could go on.” She tilted her head. “When did you find out?”

  “Last night.” Caitlin removed her hand from Diana’s arm and was going to rub her stomach but thought better of it. “I’ve been getting sick the past few mornings, but I thought it was wedding jitters until I took a pregnancy test. I haven’t even told Ryan yet—I didn’t want him to freak out and refuse to go out with the guys today, which is totally what he would’ve done.”

  Diana felt one corner of her mouth lift. “He’s a good man. A little excitable, perhaps, but he’s good all the same.” She reached for her leather handbag where it sat on a nearby table. Bypassing the gun and her lipstick, she pulled out a small silver drink charm shaped like the state of California. “A gift from David when he was late to exfil once. Perhaps you can use it to order something virginal and blend in a little better?”

  Caitlin contemplated the charm for a moment before taking it out of Diana’s palm. Then for the first time that Diana could recall, Caitlin smiled at her. “Thank you, Diana. That’s… really nice. Just… could you please not tell anyone? I want to at least tell Ryan first before I announce it to the world.”

  Diana returned the smile, and felt it not just on her face but in her heart. “Your secret is safe with me, Caitlin.”

  ~***~

  Chapter Nineteen

  When Wolfe woke up at five o’clock in the morning—an autonomic function from his time in the military—instead of rolling over and going back to sleep, he had two thoughts. The first one was: Your ex-girlfriend is getting married today and you’re her soon-to-be husband’s best man. The second one was: Your maybe-boyfriend isn’t in bed with you.

  He sat up and glanced around, but the hotel room was quiet and still. Some light stretching worked out the kinks in his neck and shoulders from lying down, and a peek between the curtains showed him Sebastian was outside supervising as some workers moved the grand piano on to the courtyard’
s flagstones. The ceremony wasn’t until the afternoon, but the hotel staff were already setting up the flower-covered archway and using a laser level to make sure the chairs for the guests were in perfect rows.

  By the time Wolfe threw on a sweatshirt and some flip-flops and got downstairs, Sebastian was sitting at the piano, hands gliding over the keys as he warmed up and checked the tuning. Constantin watched him from the glass double-doors that led into the hotel’s daytime dining area, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a folded-up Boston Globe under his robed arm. When he saw Wolfe he raised his cup in silent greeting, then nodded toward the hot drink bar for him to get his own.

  Once he had a cup for himself dwarfed in his giant hands, Wolfe nodded toward Sebastian and said, “I can’t get over how talented he is.”

  “It is something to see,” Constantin agreed. He glanced at Wolfe, icy blue eyes burning a hole in his cheek. “You are good to him, yes?”

  “Constantin, we haven’t even been on a date yet,” Wolfe replied, but when that made Constantin glare harder he sighed. “I think I am. To be honest with you, I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve known I was bisexual for a long time—it’s actually why I got kicked out of Boy Scouts, remind me to tell you that story sometime. Anyway, I… the only girlfriend I ever had was Caitlin, and I’ve never had a boyfriend. I’ve dated people here and there—”

  “Like Diana.”

  “Not the best example, but sure. I guess what I’m saying is I’m sort of… flying blind? Since my last successful relationship was in high school with someone of the opposite sex.”