SCARS

by Jaimie Roberts

  I close my eyes one more time and inhale a deep breath. Once I open my eyes again, I bite the bullet and hit SEND. I watch as it loads up and a little message pops up to let me know that it’s gone.

  I flop down on the bed in a huff. Sending a text message to your ex-stalker boyfriend is exhausting. I sit there for a while, staring at the ceiling and wondering when I will hear the faint ping of a return message. When I don’t hear anything for a while, I resign myself to the fact that maybe he’s just moved on. Maybe I am a reminder of everything that is just too painful. That’s what makes this situation so fucked up. Despite these reminders on both our sides, I can’t help the urge I have to be with him. It’s crazy, I know, but this is how I have felt ever since I met that lonesome stranger in a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven. With a lot of effort, I sit up and stare at the contents of the drugstore bag. I know I have to do it, but I don’t think I can until I hear back from him.

  Shaking my head, I get up, grab the bag, and stuff it in my dresser. I will deal with it later.

  It’s been two days since I sent that text message. At first, I tried hard not to think about the fact that the one who betrayed me—the one who wounded me—is the one who is ignoring me. I don’t want to feel the hatred and the pain, but it is slowly bubbling.

  Now, in the end, it has boiled down to one thing and one thing only. It’s just me and my mom now.

  “I take it by that face of yours that you haven’t heard back from him.”

  I flop my bag down with an undignified huff and sit down on the chair in front of her. I notice there’s oatmeal and toast on the table, and I know she’s not going to eat it. “No. I feel kind of stupid now.”

  “Maybe he’s away or something. I’m sure there must be some explanation as to why he hasn’t replied.”

  I shrug my shoulders, trying not to look as bothered as I am. Instead, I point to the food. “You’re not going to eat that?”

  She looks over at her plate in disgust. She’s told me before that the oatmeal here tastes totally gross. “No, I think I would rather skip it, thanks.”

  I smile, placing my hand in my bag and pulling out the contents. “It’s just as well I got you this, then.”

  She almost squeals when she spots the Honey Maid graham crackers in my hand. I know she has a soft spot for them. “Oh my God,” she cries. “Have I told you that you are the best daughter?” I smile at her smile, but then she starts crying. I wonder why, but then it hits me.

  “Oh, Mom, please don’t feel bad. I know you didn’t mean it like that.”

  She sniffles, nodding her head. “I know. It just feels wrong when my other daughter died only three months ago.”

  I grab her hand. “I’m sure if Elle was here, she would be telling you to stop beating yourself up. It was only a figure of speech.”

  She nods her head, wiping her nose with a tissue. “I’m so lucky to have had two fantastic daughters. I obviously did a good job in raising you both. I’m so proud of you. I hope you realize that.”

  I wince, thinking about everything that I’ve done and wondering if my potentially catastrophic news will make her rethink the whole “proud of me” speech. “Can I ask you something?” I’m figuring changing the subject would be best. I had been wondering this for a few days, but was too scared to ask her. I need to know, though.

  “Of course.”

  “Who was our father?”

  She’s halfway through wiping her nose when I ask. She freezes, looking over to the corner of the room before she meets my eyes. “His name was Thomas Daniels. He was a corporal in the marines. He died five months before you were born. Apparently, it was an IED. They were trying to get civilians out of danger when he stepped on one. There was nothing anybody could have done. I just wish you could have met him. Elle was only three at the time, and she didn’t remember her daddy that much because he was always away. She cried when I told her, but she quickly adjusted again. I guess she was used to his absence too much.”

  I squeeze her hand. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m just sorry I never told you. There just was no reason to make you think that Jack wasn’t your father all along. You girls seemed so happy, and I didn’t want to change that. It didn’t help the fact that Jack was totally against it. I suppose if it hadn’t been for him putting his foot down, you and Elle would have known about your real father a long time ago.” She shakes her head in dismay, and I can tell she’s disgusted by the thought.

  “Please don’t blame yourself for this. There is only one person to blame. I could say that it’s a shame he’s not here to answer to everybody, but then that would make me a liar.”

  She pats my hand. “What’s done is done.”

  “Hey, how are my two favorite ladies?”

  We turn toward the sound of the voice and spy Jerry standing in the doorway with a big bunch of flowers. He has been visiting often too, which I think is really sweet.

  “Jerry, how nice of you to stop by.” Mom smiles, and we both watch as Jerry walks in and kisses her on the cheek. He comes over to me and does the same before placing the flowers down on the table next to her. “You’re such a sweet boy, bringing me flowers every day. There’s really no need to.”

  I look sadly at an extra bunch sitting next to yesterday’s bunch of flowers from Jerry. My mom always has two sets every day. One is from Jerry, and one is from a mystery man. I don’t need to guess who.

  “Ah, I like doing it, Mrs. Campbell.”

  She gasps. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Grace?”

  “Too many,” he replies jokingly before turning his attention to me. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m doing okay.” I know I say it unconvincingly because he frowns at me.

  “I saw Christine last night.”

  “Oh yeah?” I ask, trying not to sound too eager to know more.

  “Yeah, she said that Jarrod had to go away for a couple of days. Something to do with his parole officer. He’s back today, though.”

  I don’t want my heart to accelerate the way that it is, but it can’t help reacting to this news. Does this mean he will contact me? He’s had plenty of chances to over the last couple of days.

  I look down at my hands and start fiddling with my fingers. “Oh, that’s nice.” I don’t say anything else and neither does Jerry. He came to say what he needed to, so there is no need for him to say any more.

  “You’re not eating your oatmeal, Mrs. C. You know it’s good for you, right?” he asks, pointing to the bowl on the table.

  Before she can respond, I suddenly have an idea. “My mom’s not hungry this morning. I gave her crackers before the nurse came with the food.” My mom frowns at me, but I just smile back at her before turning to look at Jerry. “I have a proposition for you.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

  I smirk, pull out a ten dollar bill from my pocket, and place it on the table by the oatmeal. “I bet you ten bucks that you can’t eat the whole bowl of oatmeal in fifteen seconds.”

  At first, he looks at me like I’m nuts. I give my mom a knowing smile and turn back to Jerry. “This has got to be the easiest ten bucks I’ll ever make,” he says, picking the bowl up.

  “Hold up a sec… I’ve got to time you.” I get my phone out and find the timer. I hover my thumb over the start button. “Okay! One, two, three … go!”

  He eats two spoonfuls in quick succession before it hits him. “Holy sh—” he stops himself when he remembers my mom is there. “It tastes like feet!” His face is contorted in disgust, and I can tell he’s trying hard not to gag. I look down at my phone.

  “Ten seconds, Jerry.” I’m taunting him, and I know it, but this is the most fun I’ve had in ages.

  He tries putting two more spoonfuls in, but gags. All this is doing is making me want to hurl. “Six seconds,” I remind him, but I know he’s not going to finish it. The stuff must be really bad. Doesn’t anyone tell the staff just how terrible it is?
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  He tries another spoonful, but by now, it’s practically spilling back out of his mouth it’s so vile. As it gets down to three seconds, Jerry knows he has to admit defeat. “Okay, okay, you win… Again!” he shouts. I start chuckling as Jerry wipes his mouth and places his hand in his pocket to get his money. “You know, I could say I’m really annoyed that you beat me, but this is the easiest ten bucks I’ve ever had to give away.”

  I smirk. “Oh really? Why is that?”

  He places the ten in my hand. “It’s worth it to hear you laugh again.”

  Jerry leaves, and so do I about an hour later. For the last couple of weeks, I have been using the new car I managed to replace with the insurance money. It’s not a Porsche Cayenne this time, though. Instead, I decided on Range Rover Sport. My mother was happy with the choice. She never liked the Cayenne anyway.

  As I park the car up on the driveway, I get up and walk towards my door. I have a handful of shopping bags, and I’m trying to fiddle with the keys to open the door. It’s not the most comfortable position to be in. I inevitably drop the keys and curse as I pick them back up again. As I do, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I’m getting the same feeling I always used to when I knew I was being watched. The feeling isn’t threatening … it never was. The feeling is always one of peace.

  For a moment, I stand as still as a statue. I can’t move. I know I have to, but my feet are unwilling for now. I look around, knowing I’ll see nothing, but I can’t help looking anyway. Call it instinct. I shake off the feeling and move towards my front door. As I get up the first step, I notice a pale pink lily placed ever so neatly by my door.

  My mouth goes dry, and my heart accelerates. I shouldn’t have ignored those feelings. I should have trusted them. He’s here. I know he’s here because I’m so closely tuned in to him—just like I always was.

  As I drop the bags by my door, I pick up the fresh lily and place it against my nose. I inhale deeply, closing my eyes as I do. It smells of him … peppery … crisp … exquisite. I don’t know how long it is that I’m standing there, holding the flower to my nose, but I feel when he is near. The smell of the flower is long gone and replaced with it is the aroma of him. I take the flower from my nose and close my eyes again, inhaling deeply. I get a whiff of his peppery minty fragrance, but something else … it’s something indescribable, manly … maybe even powerful. I always thought he was a magician who knew how to cast spells, and I believe that now more than ever. He has me under the most glorious spell I have ever been in. He’s here. He answered my call, and now he’s here.

  “You came back,” I say, almost a whisper. I feel it when his hands trail down my arms sending goose bumps in their wake. I shudder under his touch. How could I have ever thought I could live without this?

  “I’m sorry it took so long. I had to—”

  “I know,” I say, interrupting him. “You’re here now.”

  He presses his lips to my temple, and I know I’ve come alive again. The tingles are permeating through my whole being, and it makes me scream for more. I feel like nothing and no one can harm me when I’m with him.

  “Yes, I am, and I would like to stay a lot longer this time.”

  I smile as I close my eyes and feel his arms wrap around me. “Oh, you would, would you?”

  “Yes,” he answers. I can hear the smile in his voice. “I would like to say ‘forever,’ but I don’t know how you feel about that?”

  “Hmm, I will have to think about it.” His arm wraps around my waist, and then I feel his body press against mine. I can’t help the moan that escapes me.

  “I suppose I will just have to be a patient man. But it’s hard, Lily. So, so hard.” He presses another kiss, but this time against my neck. I can feel his desire pressing into me, and it sets my whole body on fire. Again, I am lost to him. Completely and utterly adrift in the world of J. I should have known I would never be able to stay away—no matter what he did. I can’t deny myself that right to have the one chance of happiness I have left. I know in my heart that there is no other man for me other than him, so why fight it? To deny myself would be to deny the pleasure, desire, and exhilaration he makes me feel when I am with him. For now, I will forget about everything—including the contents of the bag that’s been hiding in my dresser for the past couple of days. That is something I know I will need to a face at some point, but right here … right now … is all I want. I will deal with any possible consequences later.

  As I put all thoughts of that aside, the biggest smile emerges on my face when he pulls me in close, kisses his way up from my neck to my ear, and whispers the words I never thought I could miss so much.

  “Time’s up, Beautiful.”

  Well, where do I begin? What started off as an intended dark story turned into something rather sweet in the end. I know that a stalker doesn’t sound sweet at all, but for me, Jarrod’s character just seemed to naturally progress from that starting pointed. He was a tortured hero, who was torn between his fierce loyalty to his sister (along with a healthy dose of guilt with regards to her) and his continually evolving, ever-growing feelings for Lily. For those who have read my books before, you will know I am quite drawn to the stalker theme. Dean was my first. He popped my writer’s “stalker cherry,” so to speak. While Deviant was somewhat dark, this turned into more of a romantic suspense piece. I lived and breathed this book as much as I did with Deviant. It was both an emotional pull, and a relief to finish Scars. Although this turned out differently than originally intended, I’m okay with that because Siren (coming next) will more than make up for that darkness. It will make up for it and then some…

  So, now I move on to the very important task of thanking people. First off, I need to thank my family. It always goes without saying, but my husband and kids have a lot of patience with me—letting me write for hours without so much as a grunt from their wife or mother. Once I go into the land of fairytales, it’s hard to come back up to breathe. Anyway, I love them all to pieces.

  Next is definitely my editor, Shannon Steed. As I have said before, I may write the stories, but she makes them look pretty. This particular one has been hard on her. Not only was it my longest manuscript yet, but it was also based in America with American characters. I must be mad considering I’m British, but Shannon rose to the challenge and did a brilliant job. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without her. Not only is she great at what she does, but she’s also extremely patient, kind, and a fantastic person.

  Next are my beta readers, Sally-ann Hall, Sophie Eloy, Claire Lamb, and Yahaira Cintron. Thank you so much for helping me out with the rough draft. I’m so grateful as it helped me heaps! You’re all lovely ladies! xx

  I also need to thank Tee Cullen and Claudia Schoepper for proofreading the book. I think Scars is the most edited and proofread book going! Lol.

  I want to thank Kellie Dennis from Book Cover By Design for designing the cover for Scars. I love it! As always, she does an awesome job. Also to Leigh Stone from Formatting by Leigh for making the inside of the book look pretty. Gel from Tempting Illustrations for designing some cracking teasers for Scars. You captured the moments perfectly, so thank you.

  I also want to thank my stalkers from my street team, Jaimie’s Stalkers. I have a bunch of great people in there who support me every way they can. I love you all to bits! We’re all a little crazy, but where would the fun be if we weren’t?

  I have a special thanks to Amanda Perrie, Cheyenne Davis, and Dawn Vickers for pimping my books, teasers, etc. on a regular basis. I appreciate all the time and effort you put into you doing everything that you do. You ladies rock!

  I can’t go without mentioning my little #HashtagMinxes. You two ladies (you know who you are) make me crack up and blush at the same time. Blushing is quite rare for me considering the things I write in books, so well done, ladies. You naughty girls. ;)

  I need to say another big thank you to Joanne Swinney and Isa Jones from JoandIsaLoveBooks for hosting the bl
og tour, review tour, release day blitz and thunderclap for Scars. You ladies go above and beyond to help authors. I really don’t know how you two do it! You’re always there whenever a helping hand is needed, and for that, I am eternally grateful.

  And lastly, to all the readers of love and romance: Thank you for giving Scars a chance, and I hope you enjoyed it. I have many more to come (even on related to Scars), so keep a look out on Facebook, Amazon or Goodreads.

  Love and peace to all,

  Jaimie xx

  Want to know Christine’s story?

  TETHERED

  Some people have jobs which bind them. Some people have families. The only thing that binds me is pain. Pain from memories I wish could be washed away with the tide. If only there was a genie who could grant me a single wish and erase one day of my life.

  Just one day...

  That’s all I ask.

  I never had a choice. I was never asked—just taken. On that fateful night, I died. From then on, I have lived each day, looking into the eyes of the boy who witnessed the night my world collapsed. Like me, he had no choice. We lived through that night together, but we also died that night together. My brother was the only man in my life who I could let myself love. He was the only man who could give me the kind of love I was capable of receiving.

  I was fractured—a broken woman with nothing but hate in her bones and a void in her heart. I wasn’t able to let a man love me. I wasn’t able to love a man the way he would expect to be and should be loved. I was just a shell, living day by day, seeing that only emptiness laid in my wake.

  I felt useless.

  I felt lifeless.

  Until you.

  SIREN BLURB

  I’m not a good person. In fact, I’m a real bitch. If the opportunity arises, I will take your husband, give him the best sex he’s ever had, and laugh behind your back once I’m done with him. I do not put on airs and graces. I just take what I want whenever I want it.