Table of Contents
Scars and Tats
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
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© 2017
by
Kristi Pelton
All Rights Reserved
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes. If you are reading this book and you have not purchased it or won it in an author/publisher contest, this book has been pirated. Please delete and support the author by purchasing the ebook/book from one of its distributors.
Editor: Lisa Lowen
Cover Design: Sara Eirew
Cover Photography: Sara Eirew
Cover Model: BT Urreula
Formatter: CP Smith
The world is full of monsters with friendly
faces and angels full of scars.
(partial quote by Heather Brewer/Unknown)
Chapter 1
MELA
Scars are tattoos with better stories(unknown)
Scars are permanent. Marks representing something that hurt us. Some are visible. Some are not. I had both…
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered in my ear, staring at me in the mirror as I slid the back on my earring. I knew what that look meant, so I casually glanced away. He ran his fingers along my thong from back to front, then tried to dip his hand down between my legs.
I squirmed away like always. “Ian. We can’t. We still have to drop off Beck at the sitter. And get to the party.”
I tried hard not to always say “no” to sex. And given my issues…that was huge. Ian had at least made sex tolerable though.
The blue orbits that I had instantly fallen in love with two years ago narrowed with concern. He gently patted my backside.
Trying to make up for my rejection of him, I rubbed my ass back against his crotch, then sheepishly glanced away. “I’m only telling you no for now. Besides, I just did my face and hair.”
His warm smile melted over me. Odd that he was trying to comfort me when it was me who refused his touch at times. He winked, then playfully smacked my ass. “Come here,” he whispered.
In a short second, he’d spun me around and lowered the black lace that covered my breast. Not one single person knew that my quirky, nerdy husband was a sex fiend. I…however, wasn’t.
“Ian,” I sighed as pleasure immediately spread through my body, reaching every nerve ending, but at the same time making me feel self-conscious. I didn’t want to enjoy it.
As he gently sucked and softly swirled his tongue around my already tender nipple, my entire body stiffened even as I fought against it.
“Ian. My milk is going to let down,” I whispered, the tingling sensation alerting me.
“Mela,” he huffed out, resting his forehead on my sternum. “I love you so much.”
With both hands, I tangled two fists of his hair, somehow unable to get him close enough even as I wanted to push him away. This man was my dream come true.
“And you, I love.” I smiled, saying our saying.
He cast a glance up at me, then his mouth covered my other breast. Since I had begun breastfeeding, my breasts had become so sensitive. So pleasurable. Intensely so. Yet…I resisted.
“Ian…” I groaned
When he stopped, he kissed my abdomen, then stood to brush a kiss over my lips. I smiled.
“I know I’m not supposed to be jealous of our little guy, but damn. He gets you more than I do,” he said, gently placing the lace back over my breasts and sliding his glasses back on.
“I’m going to go pump real fast,” I said, pursing my lips at him. As I walked out, I added, “And the little guy needs it for survival.”
“Me too!” he shouted.
Beck was sleeping soundly in his crib when I walked in. It only took me a minute to hook myself up to the machine that extracted milk from me like a cow. As I sat in the rocking chair listening to the lulling sound, my heart swelled with contentment.
Not a single day went by that I didn’t consider myself the luckiest woman in the world. A princess with her two men. I never wanted Beck to know life as I once knew it. His daddy really was my prince. My savior for the past two years.
The doorbell startled me, and I shot a glance at the crib to make sure Beck didn’t stir. This was our first night out since he was born. To say I was a nervous wreck was an understatement, but it bothered Ian if I stressed. So, I put on a brave face for him. Beck would be staying over at my friend Mindy’s house. I’d met her at the breastfeeding clinic. It was highly doubtful if I’d leave him there all night. I smiled to myself as I headed toward the fridge.
When I rounded the corner into the kitchen, I spotted Ian’s mother standing in the entry hall. Immediately, my apprehensive eyes fell to the ground. For so long she’d made me feel like nothing.
The two bottles of breast milk shook in my trembling hands. God, I hated everything about that woman. Quietly, I twisted the lids on the bottles, setting them on the counter.
“Why can’t I watch Beck?” I heard her ask.
Blood began to course through my veins, swooshing deep in my ears. That woman would get nowhere near Beck. Ever.
“Mother. That’s not going to happen. How do you expect her to let you near our son given that you can’t even be nice to her?”
“Ian. If you let me watch him, I won’t come to the charity event. And son, you could do so much better than May-lay.” Distaste dripped off of her tongue as she said my name…wrong as always.
“Mother, her name is pronounced Mee-la. You know that. We’ve been together two years. Would you stop this nonsense?”
That wasn’t the first time he had pronounced my name slowly for her. She had no interest in getting it right.
“Whatever. I know she isn’t from this country, so...”
Instinctively, I rolled my eyes. Ian’s parents hated everything about me. I was Mexican according to them, though I was born in Columbia. But all they really meant was that my skin was brown…not white like theirs.
“Mother, what do you want? What are you doing here?” Ian asked, impatience loomed in his tone.
“Well, can’t I come by to see my son? Are you off limits now too?”
Ian cleared his throat as tears swelled in my eyes. I knew this was hard for him. I hated that he was torn between his family and me. In the past year, I’d seen him drink more and more—alcohol had become part of his nightly ritual.
“No, Mom, you can’t. You refuse to accept Mela. You’ve done nothing but hurt her, and that’s as good as hurting me. You’re not welcome here. We’ve made that clear.”
“Ian!” she yelled. “I brought proof. Pictures. Please, just look at these.”
>
She always had pictures.
“Beck is sleeping,” he hissed. “Don’t yell. In fact, get out.”
Something hit the ground with a thud, and pictures scattered across the bamboo floors. When I saw my sister’s face… my face… on the naked photographs, my empty stomach roiled. I grasped on to the soapstone countertop for stability.
“She’s trash Ian. Mexican trash! A porn star.”
“GET OUT!” he gritted through what sounded like clenched teeth.
As I heard the door shut, I fell to my knees, crawling toward the photographs. I wanted them gone. To disappear. This is how I would forever be known, and it wasn’t even me.
“Mela, no,” he said softly as he rounded the corner. “Please sweetheart.” In a short second, he scooped me up into his lap, shoving the pictures away from my reach.
“Look at me,” he instructed.
My flooded eyes found his, and through blurred vision I saw him clearly. “You and me. That’s all that matters. OK?”
“Beck…Ian. Beck matters,” I whispered.
“Of course he does, Mela. He’s our everything. I need you to get what you heard out of your head.”
Ian rocked me as his comments soaked in. A mixture of love… through his touch and words… intoxicated my senses. He’d been in tune with me since the day we met. The day he saved my life…literally. Instinctively, my thumb traced over the scar on my wrist. The scar that would forever be there.
“Look at me!” He gently shook my shoulders. “Don’t go back there. You’re here with me now. Beck needs you, Mela. I need you.” Desperation clung to his words.
As if on cue, Beck’s awakening cry echoed over the intercom, bringing a smile instantly to my face.
“See, sweetheart. I’ll wail out loud too if it’ll convince you how much you’re needed.”
Ian knew exactly how to draw a smile from me. When his thumbs brushed over my cheeks, drying my tears, he dropped a kiss gently over my lips. I wish I had it inside of me to give all of myself to him. Marriage had only masked my scars.
“This little hiccup in our evening doesn’t necessarily get you off the hook for later.” He winked as he pulled us to our feet. I attempted a smile.
Beck’s urgent cry made him release me, but I reared up on my tiptoes and threw my arms around his neck.
“I love you, Doc,” I said, squeezing him.
“I love you,” he responded. “Now get your ass outta here.”
Quickly, I spun on my heels and ran from the room straight for my wee one.
***
Watching Ian as he made his way around a room always astonished me. Even that day when he had strolled into my room at the hospital when I was brought to the ER, I remembered watching him review my chart that night before he glanced up at me with a deep sadness in his eyes. Tonight, he glanced up at me and tipped his bourbon glass as if doing our own personal ‘cheers.’ Tonight, my eyes met and held his. I wasn’t sure two eyes would ever adore me more. Two years ago, I hadn’t been able to hold his gaze.
“May-lay?” he had asked that night pronouncing my name wrong.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Mela,” I whispered. “It’s like Reba, but not.”
A slight grin pulled at his lips. No part of me felt like smiling. Here stood an attractive man, in thick-rimmed glasses…filling the role of doctor… who knew I’d slit my wrists. How desperate and pathetic I must look.
“Mela. Why are you here?”
My eyes lagged as I tried to focus on him. The effects of the painkillers swam through my veins, lessening…delaying my reactions. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about it. If he recognized me…her…I would lose it.
His touch brought my eyes wider. “Tell me what you’ve done.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s in my chart,” I mumbled or slurred. All I knew was that the words didn’t come out right. I also knew that I was sick of people. Everyone thought they knew what was best for me. I went from rolling my eyes at the stupidity of the world to giving up—a vacant existence.
“Jesus Christ, you are beautiful,” he whispered as he handed me a glass of water. “All night long I’ve craved you.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, watching him sip on his bourbon. I secretly hoped he drank enough that when we got home he’d fall asleep and maybe forget about sex.
“Ian McKinley. How are you?” A man asked, extending his hand to Ian.
Like normal, I quietly swooshed away…trying not to exist in his world. For a brief moment, he held tightly to my hand, but I knew he’d let go. He didn’t want to make a scene.
As I drank my water, the senator…his mother… whizzed past me. “If your face wasn’t plastered all over porn boxes, he wouldn’t be embarrassed to introduce you.”
“It’s not my face,” I spat back. I wanted to say so much more but never found the courage. And in reality, it was my damn face…just not mine.
“You better plan on driving tonight—no matter how hard he tries, he can’t drink you away. You’re nothing but trash.”
Tears boiled up.
“Hey! That’s enough.” A man I didn’t recognize gritted in a threatening tone.
The Senator went from a scowl to a smile in a matter of a short second.
“Oh, she knows I’m kidding,” she lied, shuffling around and heading in the opposite direction.
When I blinked to look at the man, the blue in his eyes burned into me as the brewing tears spilled over.
“You, ok?” Concern laced his words.
“Yes,” I whispered, blood invading my cheeks.
When I turned away, I heard him murmur, “You’re beautiful. Don’t let her tell you any different.”
***
“Sweetheart, it would have been nice to have been able to sleep through the night. I’m not on call and we could have enjoyed it,” Ian said in the car.
He wasn’t thrilled when I drove over to pick up Beck.
“I know. But this was big for me just being away from him for four hours. Can’t we start small?” I smiled.
His head was back against the headrest. “Of course we can.”
I knew by the way he acted I probably wouldn’t have to have sex tonight, and I was relieved. I promised myself I would initiate things tomorrow.
“So maybe when we get home, he will go right to sleep and you and I could…” his words trailed off.
I smiled but shushed him at the same time, holding my index finger to my lips. “Don’t talk that way in front of him,” I whispered.
“He’s 3 months old, Mela. He has no idea what we’re saying. In fact, as long as we say whatever we say in a tone like this, he will be happy.”
I giggled at his sickeningly sweet sound.
“Hey, Beckster,” he said, all animated from the front seat. “I’m going to make beautiful love to your mother when we get home.”
“Ian! Stop!” I laughed, swatting at him from the driver’s seat.
I’d never gotten much out of sex. At the age of twenty-four, an orgasm still evaded me. I wanted to tell him that. I knew he wouldn’t want that…but it was hard to admit. I was embarrassed.
“He needs to know. He needs to know that you’re part mine too.”
Beck immediately began to wail from the backseat.
“See!” I laughed. “He’s protesting.”
Ian chuckled. That laughter over the past two years had become food for my soul. Beautiful, long lashes splayed out beneath his eyes when his head fell back again. A truck with bright lights flew by passing us…speeding. I shook my head.
“I love you, Ian,” I said loudly as Beck’s cry grew.
Ian glanced in my direction. His alcohol-laden blue eyes stared devotedly at me.
“And you, I love. With all that I am.”
Beck was upset about something. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,” I began to sing.
“Your voice is beautiful, Mela.”
I knew he meant it. I did sing well. As Ian unbu
ckled and shifted around to tend to Beck, I thought back about the times my sister, Ari, and I would stand in our living room and sing to our family. Always the shy one, I’d stand behind her and follow her lead. I’d stand stiff as a board, and she’d dance around crazily as she sang. Some things didn’t change.
“What’s the matter, Buddy?” Ian asked Beck, bringing me out of my memory.
In the moment it took my eyes to register that bright lights from the opposite lane had swerved into my lane, I impulsively slammed my foot on the brakes to prevent the crash. The tires screamed as my body began to move forward with the momentum of the jolt, and my arm instinctively shot out to prevent Ian from coming forward. My mother had done it to me a hundred times as a kid when we didn’t wear seat belts.
When the vehicle struck us, the violent noise screeched through my brain, creating a sound…a memory that would never be forgotten. The arm that was meant to protect was more like a limp noodle as his body slammed into it, flew past it and crashed into the windshield. The front of our car crumpled within a foot of me on the driver side, and suddenly my face collided with something, knocking me back and…
A loud squalling echoed around me as I opened my eyes. Pitch-blackness surrounded me. Warmness ran through my eyes, over my face, and I tried to wipe it so I could see. The wailing stopped for a moment, then started again. Smoke…electrical burning…an awful smell permeated the car, and I began to gag.
“Are you ok?” a voice asked. The wailing continued. “Oh, God, there’s a baby!” the voice shouted.
A baby? Beck! A sense of panic set in. My heart brutally pounded in my chest, my head, my ears. The deflated air bag lay inches from my face coated with blood. Oh. My. God. Unconsciously, I unbuckled and tried to get out my door, but the entire side of the car was crumpled. I tried to spin toward Beck, shoving the blood-soaked airbag away from me. Pain radiated through my neck when I freed my legs from the misplaced dashboard around them. I scrambled between the two front seats to get to him. Thank God, I was only five-foot-three. His car seat faced the back window and seemed intact.
“Beck!” I screamed, topping his bellowing cry. Through the darkness, I saw his perfect face with a tiny scratch of blood on the side near his temple. I unfastened his seat from its holder and immediately got him out of the smoky car.
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