Scarred: Sins and Secrets Series of Duets

by Willow Winters

  “I don’t care what he thinks. Or what he thinks I know.” I stare into her eyes as I tell her, “I’ll kill him before he touches me again.”

  Chapter 10

  Kat

  * * *

  Distractions are not always wise,

  And can come at the worst of times.

  When you’re weak and when you’re lonely,

  When you’re suffering for your crimes.

  They sound so tempting as they soothe,

  All the pain of yesterday.

  They’ll hold you tight with promises just right,

  While the truth fades from black to gray.

  He knows what he’s doing.

  Jacob Scott.

  Coffee? I could use some advice. I check out the message as I sit at a booth at the back of the coffee shop we met at last time. The new place and not my old go-to I’ve had for years.

  My blood rings with guilt and regret. Even as I sit here, looking from the cup of chamomile tea to the door of the shop as the bell at the top of the door rings, granting entry to the tempter himself.

  I should tell Jacob I’m pregnant. That I’m not at all ready to think about moving on, although I wish I were after the weeks of hell and on-again, off-again hardships Evan and I have been through. I should tell Jacob no. I should tell him sorry for not telling him sooner.

  But I don’t do any of that.

  I give a small wave to him and then force my smile to stay put as he walks over to me. His shoulders shudder and I can feel the faint chill of the November air flow through the shop.

  “I’m so glad you could come,” Jacob says, shoving his jacket off of his shoulders. I smile as I see the waitress approach, carrying the cup of chai I bought for him.

  “You have good timing,” I tell him, biting the inside of my cheek and knowing that I’m playing with fire. “Now I don’t owe you.”

  A genuine chuckle fills the space between us as he’s given his drink.

  “Touché, Kat,” he says accepting it and then thanking the barista.

  I mouth the word thanks to her as she turns. She’s sweet and young, but I don’t miss how her gaze shifts to my ring finger, and then to his. She keeps her smile in place, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

  My heart stutters and I wish I’d taken it off. I wish I could solidify the separation as easily as Evan walked out on me.

  “You okay?” Jake asks and grabs my attention again.

  “Yeah,” I say and force a smile to my lips. It feels tight and I can’t breathe, so I pick up the tea to take a sip.

  I clear my throat and try to shake off the unwanted feelings. “Do you want a muffin?” I ask him absently. “Or a cookie?”

  I read last night about all the foods you should and shouldn’t eat when you’re pregnant. Oatmeal seems to be a winner, so the thought of having an oatmeal raisin cookie or two is a good distraction.

  * * *

  “A cookie?” Jake smirks and I almost tell him why. But I don’t. I gesture to the front of the place; I can’t be the only one who smells all the baked goods.

  “You got the drinks, let me get the snacks.”

  “Oatmeal raisin?” I ask him and he nods with another smirk before tapping on the table and walking to the counter.

  I stare down at my not-so-big-yet belly and feel slightly guilty. Pursing my lips, I think, don’t look at me like that jokingly and it actually eases some of the pain.

  At least I’m not crying and wallowing in despair. I gently rub my belly.

  “At least I have you,” I whisper in a sweet, sorrowful voice as I let my hand rest on my lower belly. I want a doctor to tell me it’s real. That I really do get to have a baby. This little one who will love me and I can love them back and give them every part of me.

  As I take another sip of the tea, watching Jake at the counter, I start to think. Maybe it was supposed to be this way. Maybe I don’t have enough in me to love both a child and my husband. God must’ve known it and that’s why Evan left me.

  I nod my head and sniffle before pulling the mug back to my lips quickly to hide my face from Jake.

  He sits down slowly and I know he saw; I can see it in his eyes.

  “Sorry,” I shrug. “I read this manuscript earlier and it shredded me,” I lie.

  He hands me my cookie and I feel foolish for a moment, but then he says, “Really?”

  I nod like a fool.

  “You want to talk about it?” he asks me and I get the impression that I could tell him anything. I think I could tell him the truth right now and he’d know it’s exactly that. I could spill my guts to him and say it’s all something I read in a book. And he’d let me. He’d give me that bit of protection.

  And I’m so grateful for it.

  But I’m not ready.

  I shake my head, my hair spilling over my shoulders as I do. “Maybe another time.”

  He nods his head, peeling back the muffin wrapper only enough so he can take a bite.

  “Good thinking,” he says after he swallows. “Very good call on the muffin.”

  My shoulders rock gently with another small laugh as I take a bite of the cookie, once again feeling the ease that Jake gives me.

  “It’s okay to not be okay, do you know that?” he asks me.

  I snicker and pick at the cookie.

  “You can roll your eyes and laugh, but it’s true,” he says as he peels down the muffin wrapper, exposing more of the treat as he talks.

  “If I’m not okay though, that means I need to talk about it.” I point my finger at him and then pick off another small piece of the cookie. “And I don’t want to,” I say smartly and pop the bit into my mouth.

  “Nah, you can just be not okay, but talk about something else. That’s a thing, you know?”

  “How’s that?” I ask him.

  “It’s okay to let something bother you, that’s all I mean.”

  “You authors can speak in code, do you know that?” I use his phrase right back at him.

  Now he’s the one who laughs. “Well I guess what I’m saying is that I’m not really okay. I’m sort of running from my own problems. But now I’m okay, ‘cause I’m here.”

  “Here in New York?”

  “Just here,” he says and gives me a small smile, but I read the real answer in his expression. Here with you.

  “So what are you running from?” I ask him.

  “Are we sharing stories?” he asks me in return.

  “I’m not sure how much sharing I’m willing to do,” I tell him honestly.

  “You afraid you’ll wind up in a book of mine?” he asks me with a sly smile and then adds, “One second, before you start I just wanted to grab my pen and paper.”

  He acts like he’s reaching for an imaginary bag on the floor and I let out a loud laugh then cover my mouth with both of my hands as a lady looks up from her phone at me with a pissed off expression from across the room.

  Jake liked the laugh though. Enough so that he smiles wide as he settles back into his seat.

  “You don’t have to tell me anything. I just want you to know that you can be not okay around me. I get it. Some days I’m not the best and it’s nice to just go out and get a chai … and a muffin.”

  “Like today?” I ask him.

  “Yeah, like today.”

  “I have a hard time getting a read on you, Jake,” I tell him.

  “What do you want to know?” he asks me.

  “What do you want from me?” I ask him instantly and then immediately regret the blunt question. It’s rude and risks losing him and the only distraction I really have.

  “Just company, until you want more,” he says with his green eyes staring straight into mine as they heat.

  “I don’t know that I’ll want more though.”

  “I think you lie, Kat. I think you already know you want more.”

  “It’s only because I’m lonely.” The words slip out and I hate that they’re true, but a weight is lifted from the confession
. I expect Jake to react negatively. Maybe to be angry or offended, but instead he nods his head.

  “Yeah I know, I am too.”

  “Sometimes I do stupid shit when I’m lonely.”

  “Well if you ever want to be lonely together, I’m free.”

  I should feel guilty about how Jake makes me feel.

  Wanted, appreciated, like he doesn’t want to lose me.

  It’s foolish to even entertain what’s between us. But I feel so rejected. My husband doesn’t want me. And yet Jake does. Even if it’s only because I’m the only person in the entire state who he knows.

  And we can be just friends.

  At least I can pretend we can, for a little while. Or what did Evan call it? A short while.

  * * *

  Diary Entry 2

  * * *

  Hey Mom,

  * * *

  I have a secret to tell you. Do you remember how I told you about Markie in middle school? He’s the one who was in Mrs. Schaffer’s math class. He had a crush on me and sent me that note. It wasn’t important really and I doubt you remember. But I had this feeling back then and I kind of have it now.

  It’s weird and it’s mixed with all sorts of other things.

  Obviously I shouldn’t see him and I shouldn’t even be considering talking to this guy. But I’ve been crying every night for so long. I started playing sad movies on the television at night so I could blame it on that. I know I’m lying, but I’m so tired of crying.

  I’m exhausted, Mom, and this guy gives me something else to think about.

  It’s wrong, isn’t it?

  I don’t even have to ask you to know that it is.

  I’m using this guy, and I’m still married to Evan. My heart is still waiting for him even though he’s given me every reason to stay away from him for good.

  Maybe I’m a bad person. Maybe I deserve all this.

  I don’t know. Could you tell me, please? You used to give me little signs. I know they were from you. I could use one now.

  I don’t know what’s going to happen. But I’m really tired and that’s probably from a mix of what’s going on with Evan and the pregnancy.

  It’s wonderful that we’re having a baby, isn’t it?

  See how I changed subjects there? I hope that made you laugh.

  I’m happy about this baby and I want to feel happy, Mom.

  But my life isn’t happy and I kind of hate myself right now.

  This guy changes that. Does that make it better?

  Please tell me it does, because I want it all to be better for the baby.

  I know it can’t last, but maybe just for a little while?

  Chapter 11

  Evan

  * * *

  Dominos fall one by one,

  Yet together look the same.

  The white and black blur to gray,

  It’s only a child’s game.

  They tip and spill on the ground,

  Claiming that they’ve won.

  Lined up in rows, touching toes,

  Dominos fall one by one.

  * * *

  “It’s been a while,” Mason says as I sit down at the booth in the back of the restaurant.

  “I just saw you a few weeks ago,” I point out to him.

  “Not what I meant,” he corrects me. “It’s been a while since the two of us have been up to no good.”

  “And how do you know that’s what I’m here for?” I ask him. I used to buy some good shit through Mason and vice versa. I came from the poor part of town, and him from the rich. The only real difference that makes is which drugs you’re doing. Pot or snow.

  And if you want a taste of the other, all you have to do is make friends with the right people. Long story short, that’s how I met Mason and as I moved into his circle, he made a spot when I needed one.

  Mason shrugs at my question. “I’m going to take a guess and say that whatever you want from me, it’s something I could go to jail for.”

  I huff a sarcastic laugh and toss my phone down on the white tablecloth then look around casually to make sure I don’t recognize anyone. The place is mostly empty, with only a few guys at the bar and a couple in the corner of the diner.

  “We’re good,” Mason says. “And I have to say, considering what’s going on, I’m intrigued.”

  “Intrigued is a word for it, I guess,” I answer him.

  “I got you an IPA, seasonal.”

  “Thanks, man,” I tell him gratefully but I don’t touch the tall glass sitting right in front of me. I take off my coat and hang it over the unused chair to my left as the waitress walks up to the table. She’s a skinny little thing, which makes her look even younger than she probably is.

  “Welcome to Murray’s,” she says evenly as she pours water into each of our glasses. Her top’s unbuttoned just a little too much and the way the blush colors her cheeks as she looks between us makes what she’s thinking more than obvious.

  “Can I get you guys anything?” she asks, setting the pitcher down. She bites down on her lip and Mason raises a brow at me.

  “Not me,” I tell him and lean back in my seat, not looking back at the broad and risking leading her on.

  He waves her off politely. “We’ll just grab a drink from the bar,” he tells her and her smile falls. She seems to falter and she clears her throat.

  “Sure, if you need anything—” she starts to say, but he cuts her off.

  “We’re good.”

  “So how you been?” I ask him as the pretty little blonde walks off with a pout.

  “Better now,” he tells me.

  “I’m sorry to hear about your father.”

  He shrugs and looks away as he takes a long swig of his beer.

  “I know it’s got to suck either way,” I say my words carefully. Word is Mason killed him. Shot him dead. But still, it’s his father and I don’t know for a fact Mason really wanted him gone.

  “Yeah,” he says, not looking me in the eyes. “Thanks, but let’s cut the small talk. It’s not often I get a call from you.”

  I nod and crack my knuckles one by one with my thumb as I look out the window, scanning the streets. “I think I need to hire someone,” I tell him.

  “You’re going to need to be a little more specific than that,” he replies.

  “There’s someone,” I pause and lean in closer, resting my elbow on the table and moving my hand so that my fingers cover my mouth as I talk. Just in case someone’s watching and trying to listen in.

  “Someone tried to kill me. Tony wasn’t meant to die. It was meant for me.”

  “You’re still doing coke?” he asks and eyes me then takes a drink from his glass.

  “Not in years, but they don’t know that. It would hurt my reputation if the clients thought I was clean, you know?”

  “That’s what I thought. I was just asking ‘cause that means whoever went for you doesn’t really know you.”

  “I think it’s my boss.”

  “Wouldn’t he know?” he asks me and for a moment a tinge of insecurity washes through me.

  “He never really asked. He doesn’t ask any questions so long as the clients are happy.”

  “Alright.” He tilts his head slightly and lowers his voice. “So why’s he want you dead?” Mason asks.

  “It was years ago,” I start to tell him and feel sick to my stomach. “I fucked his wife. Before I married Kat.”

  Mason’s eyes assess me as if he’s trying to figure out if I’m lying.

  “I’ve never cheated on her,” I talk louder than I should and in response to my raised voice, Mason looks to his right.

  I lick my lips and calm my racing heart.

  “He wants to scare her, so he went after me to prove what he could do to her. That no one’s safe from him.”

  “But you gave Tony the hit?”

  I nod my head once, the memory of his dead eyes looking through me flashing in front of me and sending a chill down my spine. “With the stuff James
left in the room for me.”

  “So your boss? You want him dead? You want to prove he did it, frame him, what do you want?”

  “You have a fucking menu?” I joke with him to lessen the tension in my body.

  An asymmetrical grin forms on his face.

  “I don’t do anything. I’m not involved in any of that shit anymore.”

  My body feels heavier at his words.

  “Doesn’t mean I don’t have connections still,” he adds and I nod. “So, for a friend, what is it that you want?”

  “Three things,” I tell him. “First, your lawyer.”

  “That’s a given. He’s already on call in case they take you in again.”

  “Second, someone to watch Kat. I need her safe.”

  “Is he after her?” he asks me.

  “He might know that I know, and I can’t risk her safety.” He merely nods and I add, “I can’t lose her. I’ll fucking lose it, man.”

  “The safest place for her is distance. Well, anywhere fucking away from you and your shit.”

  “I know … I know.”

  “Good thing you’re separated, huh?”

  “She tell Jules that?” I ask him as dread races in my blood. Before I can tell him we’re not, and that there’s no way I’m leaving her, he laughs at me.

  “Jules tells me everything. I know the papers got it wrong.”

  “I’m not leaving her; I’m just protecting her. There’s a difference.”

  “If you want the world to think you’re broken up,” he says, “then you need to treat her like you are.”

  “I don’t know if I can treat her like that. She’s pregnant.”

  “I know she is. Doesn’t that make it even more important not to risk?” he asks me.

  “Don’t make me feel worse than I already do.” My words are bitter and my heart sinks. “How long’s it going to take?” I ask him to get back to the point.

  “To dig up dirt, plant evidence, figure out how to kill the guy … it could be a while.”

  “I don’t have a while,” I bite back. “Every day is a day I have to put her through this. What if she hates me?” I say out loud even though I didn’t mean to.