Scarred: Sins and Secrets Series of Duets

by Willow Winters

  I’ve seen Kat do this a few times.

  Writing a letter to talk to her parents. It’s how I knew back then that she wasn’t doing too well. I’d give her extra love and keep a closer eye on her whenever she took out that journal. I’m not doing too well now and I need you. Thought I’d give this a try; I don’t have anything else.

  I miss you already.

  If you’re with Ma, tell her I miss her too. That I love her and wish you two were here.

  God, I do. I need you two.

  I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better son.

  I’m so damn sorry that the last conversation we had was about how disappointed you were in me. I promise I’m trying to do what’s right. It’s so hard to know though.

  It’s too many lies to know what the truth is. Too many secrets to hold on to what’s real.

  I’m just afraid of losing everything. It’s like it’s all crumbling around me and I can’t stop it.

  I’m so damn alone, and it’s my fault. I’m terrified to be close to anyone right now.

  I need you to do me a favor. You gotta look out for Kat.

  She misses you too and she’s not okay.

  She used to say that when she’d write, her parents would come in some way. She said she knew they were watching. She knew they heard. I hope you can hear me now.

  Can you go to her? Please?

  Give her a sign that you’re there and that you love her.

  I’m trying, Pops, but it’s so hard to know if I’m doing the right thing.

  If I lose her too, it’s over for me. There’s nothing left.

  So please, don’t watch over me. Stay with her.

  I love you forever.

  Chapter 16

  Kat

  * * *

  It’s memories that hold me back,

  The visions of yesterday.

  Back when we were so happy,

  And our faith did not yet stray.

  It’s nights that I’m so lonely,

  And wishing you were here.

  Then the pain turns to anger,

  And hating you seems so clear.

  “Thanks for meeting me here,” I say.

  “No problem,” Jake says as he sits down across the booth. “Tired of the chai?” he asks and I have to laugh.

  We’re back at Brew Madison and not the café closer to Jake’s place.

  “No, it’s just that Jules, my friend who I’m staying with for a bit, wanted to meet across the street after we’re done, so I asked her driver take me here.”

  “Ah, gotcha. What are you guys doing?” he asks as he looks up at the menu across the black wall. It’s a large black chalkboard with all their drinks written in pretty flowing script. I’m pretty sure it’s not actually handwritten. But I could be wrong.

  “The chai is better at your place,” I tell him and pick up my caffeine-free pumpkin spice coffee. Apparently Maddie’s tastes have rubbed off on me. Either that or the baby has ruined my taste buds.

  He chuckles as I take a large gulp and then tell him, “I think we’re just getting dinner at a little Italian place. Or maybe heading to the new bar below the hotel a few blocks over.” I shrug and add, “She hasn’t decided yet.”

  He lays his coat over the back of his chair as he stands. “I’m going to go with straight black coffee I think.”

  “Oh?” I ask him. “Is it one of those days?”

  “You tell me,” he responds and instantly my smile falls. It’s been a week since Henry died and each day is worse than “one of those days.” They blur together and time has flown by, but it’s really been a week.

  “Give me a sec?” he asks me, gripping the back of the chair. I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

  My fingers play at the edge of my coffee cup. I wore lipstick today and the outline of my lips mars the white rim of the cup.

  There’s a statistic I read once about how lipstick sales and alcohol sales both go up in depressions, while sales for everything else plummet.

  The alcohol … well, you drink when you’re happy and you drink when you’re sad.

  But the lipstick is because in hard times, we just want to feel special, pretty. We want to feel like we’re worth it. As in, if we look pretty and put together, then maybe we can be.

  I need to buy more lipstick, I think.

  “So what’s going on?”

  “Wow, that was fast,” I say to prolong my answer.

  “I’d rate them an A plus for the service. I have to admit that,” he answers with a pleasant smile.

  I give him a soft one in return, but I can feel myself breaking down.

  “Evan’s father died.” As I say the words quickly, to get them out of me, my face crumples.

  “Shit,” I hear Jake say beneath his breath as I try to keep my composure. “It’s alright,” he tells me.

  “I’m fine,” I say in a choked voice, refusing to cry again. “I’m dealing with it. It’s not the first time I’ve lost a family member, but it still hurts.”

  “What happened?”

  “It was sudden. He had a blood clot that traveled to his lungs.” I remember the voice of the doctor and how calmly he spoke as I pick up a napkin off the table and blot under my eyes. As I blink, my lashes hit the napkin and it comes back black.

  “I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” I tell him, flipping the napkin to the other side and being careful not to smudge my makeup too much.

  “Don’t be.” It’s only then that I realize how close he is. He’s so warm. “Evan,” I blurt out his name as my tired eyes feel heavy and the need to be held makes my body hot. My fingers itch to lay across Jake’s lap. “I tried to call him and got his voicemail.”

  “About his father?” Jake asks and I find myself leaning closer to him. Jake doesn’t let on that there’s any more tension between us than usual. But the air between us has shifted. It’s something closer and vulnerable. Something I should be wary of, but I need it. God, I need it.

  I nod once, twisting the little shreds of the napkin I’m destroying in my lap. “I’m who the doctor called.” I get choked up again, thinking about how I was listed as his daughter in Henry’s phone.

  “And Evan?”

  “He didn’t answer.”

  Jake backs away from me and seems to question whether or not he wants to respond.

  He takes in a heavy breath as if he’s going to, but takes a long sip of coffee instead. I watch his face as he stares straight ahead.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t even be talking about this. I just-”

  “Stop saying you’re sorry, Kat.” Jake turns his head and stares deep into my eyes as he tells me, “You have nothing to be sorry for, and I don’t understand why anyone would make you feel like you do.”

  My breath comes in shorter bursts, my heart beating faster. But all I can think about is how I wish Evan would say those words to me.

  My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I reply, “I am sorry though.” I don’t know what else to say. It’s just how I feel.

  “Well I’m sorry too. I’m sorry about your father-in-law. And I’m sorry your ex isn’t there for you. I’m sure he’s going through shit, but it doesn’t seem right that he’s ignoring you like that. He’s got to know it hurts.”

  “He doesn’t feel like my ex most of the time,” I admit to Jake with my eyes focused on my fingers as I continue to shred the napkin.

  I’m anxious for Jake’s response. I just want someone to understand and I feel like Jake can. Even if he can’t, I don’t think he’ll judge me. I hope he won’t.

  “I mean, you’ve been married for years, right?” I nod at his question and continue to. “And you only just split?” I nod again to confirm.

  “You’re going through a lot, and he’s not even talking to you. I don’t get this guy. I wouldn’t throw you away like that.”

  “I don’t think he’s throwing me away so much as putting me into a corner while he tries to … ” I let out an uneasy sigh.


  “I read in the papers about what he’s got going on,” Jake says and I’m forced to look at him, my heart beating slowly as I wait for his judgment. “I don’t get how the two of you fit together, honestly.”

  “We have more in common than you’d think,” I answer him.

  “Still have? Or had?” he asks me. And then shakes his head. “Tell me to fuck off if you want,” he says then closes his eyes and takes a quick sip of coffee. “I’m only here if you want to talk. And if I cross a line-”

  “You’re not crossing any line,” I tell him and find myself reaching out, letting my hand fall on top of his. Mostly for fear of him backing away and leaving me with nothing again. “I don’t talk to anyone else really.” The plea is unsaid, but Jake hears it.

  His eyes assess me and stay on mine as he says, “I don’t want you to get upset with me because of an opinion I have, when I only know a small fraction of the truth. I know the past goes deeper than that.”

  It’s small kindnesses that kill the pain. The tiny bits break down walls, making them crumble all because it hits at just the right spot, at just the right time.

  “Just don’t hate me for still loving him,” I whisper to him.

  “I think you still have feelings for him because you haven’t let anyone else in,” he offers and leans just a bit closer to me.

  If Evan would give me just a little, I wouldn’t be here. But he won’t even text me. It’s truly over.

  The thought flies through my mind as Jake leans forward a bit more, his gorgeous green eyes focused on my lips.

  If Evan would comfort me or let me comfort him, I wouldn’t have even called Jake, I think as I close my eyes and breathe in the masculine scent of Jake’s cologne. The deep forest fragrance fills my lungs as he gently presses his lips against mine.

  If Evan really wanted me, if he cared about me … the thought is lost as my hands move to Jake’s hair, my fingers spearing through it as my mouth parts and Jake deepens the kiss.

  The problem is that when my eyes are closed, I picture Evan. It’s his fingers that thread through my hair and cup the back of my head. It’s his lips pressed against mine.

  The problem is when I open my eyes, it’s not Evan. No matter how much I want it to be.

  * * *

  Diary Entry 3

  * * *

  Hey Mom,

  * * *

  I really could use you today.

  I think Evan hates me maybe. Or he’s not the person I thought he was. His father passed away and I went to him. Because I love him even though he’s doing all this stupid shit and choosing it over me. But he didn’t want me. Not even at the funeral. He hardly looked at me.

  Mom, I think he blames me in some way. Or there’s something there. I don’t understand it. I’m so hurt. I can’t describe how it feels because hurt just doesn’t do it justice. It’s an emptiness I don’t know how to fill.

  I love him so much, but I just cried alone in the car at the funeral. He didn’t hold me. He didn’t talk to me. He just hugged me like he hugged everyone else. Like I was no one special.

  I thought for a second he would let me cry in his arms. Or that he would cry in my arms like he did when his mom died. But he didn’t. He just left.

  There’s something else too. Something that you might not like. Or I don’t know, maybe you’ll like it now that you know what Evan did.

  I kissed someone else.

  I can’t help feeling like I’m cheating on Evan.

  But if Evan doesn’t want me, it’s okay, right? It doesn’t feel okay. Separated or divorced, I still love Evan. Even when he treats me like shit.

  This guy, his name’s Jake, he treats me like he cares about me. Not that we’ve done anything really. I don’t even know him. I think I want to though. And that scares me.

  My heart belongs to Evan, but there’s someone else who wants to take it.

  And seeing Evan at the funeral is what broke me.

  I don’t know what to do.

  I feel like I tell you that a lot. But for the first time, I want to do something. I’m ready for something to change.

  Chapter 17

  Evan

  * * *

  Damn me for what I’ve done,

  Hate me for the lie.

  Let the web weave and thread,

  But don’t let what we have die.

  * * *

  I know it in my blood,

  She’s mine to keep and hold.

  I’ll stop fighting only once,

  When I’m dead and cold.

  * * *

  The piles of dirt are getting larger. The metal shovels pierce into the frozen soil. The sound cuts through my bones, one and then another and another.

  It’s been constant as I stand here, helpless. I’ve never been colder, the wind and bitter snow berating my body, but I still don’t move.

  I can’t take my eyes off of the two graves.

  The shovels spill the dirt, mounting the piles as my eyes drift to the tombstones.

  The first my father, a man who died before his time. A death of tragedy.

  And then to my wife’s. My love’s. Gone before her time. No one believes me. He put her there. James killed her.

  My eyes pop open wide when I hear Kat whisper, “It’s all your fault.”

  * * *

  I wake up breathless, my heart pounding and I swear I can feel Kat’s hot breath on my neck even though I’m alone. My eyes dart around the room as I slowly pick my body up into a sitting position on the bed.

  Just a terror. The same as last night.

  I’m quick to grab the video monitor for the security system off the nightstand and flick the side button on to bring it to life. I had it installed after the break-in.

  It’s only when I see Kat in our bed that my heart starts to calm and my heated skin seems to succumb to the chill of reality.

  She’s okay.

  I close my eyes and when I open them, it’s to a shot of her rolling over in bed. To my side. My fingers brush the glass where she is. I’ll be there soon. I’ll be with her and it’ll all be over. I won’t let her down.

  * * *

  “There’s a lot of shit you aren’t going to like,” Mason says the second I close the door to his car. He’s parked outside of the park and I focus on the people walking by. Moving through their day and carrying on with their lives, while mine’s slowly deteriorating into nothing.

  I needed this meetup though. I needed to get the fuck out of this rut and talk to someone. Even if it is about this shit.

  “Let’s start with the easiest,” I respond.

  “You have a tail. Hired by Lapour,” he says and his sentences are short. I nod my head. I figured as much. I’ve been scoping James out and James is scoping me out in return. Go figure.

  “The cops are coming around your place more often too and they’ve been poking around your family home, looking through the garbage. A few tags on the station’s search engine too.”

  “They’re not going to give up?” I ask with exasperation. This has gone on for too long.

  “They just need one thing to pin it on you,” Mason says.

  “And James has the evidence they’d need to do it.” The photos come to mind and my anxiety makes my heart squeeze. I’m waking up to heart palpitations and I’m constantly exhausted but not able to sleep. My leg rocks anxiously from side to side as Mason speaks.

  “We can wipe them from his computer, but the hard copies will have to wait till tomorrow. My associate will wipe the place clean, but then he’ll know.”

  “’Bout fucking time.”

  “It takes time to get a batch of drugs that matches,” Mason says defensively. He doesn’t get it. It’s not his life that’s in ruins.

  “It would have been easier if we’d found it on him,” I tell him.

  “Yeah, it would have,” he agrees and then it’s quiet.

  “I feel like I’m failing. All this money paying other people to do shit and we’re coming up empty.”


  “You’re doing everything you can.”

  I can’t stand the quiet anymore. “I want this over with,” I tell him. A couple days turned into a week. And now the days bleed into one another.

  “I’m walking around this city,” I tell him, “stalking a man who should be dead. I want to do something!” It’s killing me to wait, driving me fucking crazy. I can practically feel my sanity slipping away.

  “You have to be careful when you kill someone,” he says as if I’m being impatient. “If you’re reckless, you get caught.”

  “Besides, I don’t have anything on James. Not a shred of evidence that shows he purchased the strychnine.”

  “We need evidence and to set him up if there isn’t any. Or we can just kill him and end it all.” The thought has been pestering the back of my skull. Picking away. I just want to kill the fucker and be done with this.

  “You kill him before it’s ready and the cops will be looking for his murderer. Is that what you want?”

  I know he’s right, and I can’t answer. I say the only thing that matters, “I need my wife back.”

  “That’s the other thing,” he answers while looking out of his window.

  “What thing?” I ask staring at him, willing him to look at me. “About my wife?” Adrenaline shoots through me.

  “She’s seeing someone,” he says.

  “You’re wrong.”

  “She went out yesterday and we were keeping an eye out. My guys saw some things.”

  My fists clench at my side as I shake my head. I can already see him. That fucker. Jacob whatever the fuck his last name is. My breathing comes in ragged pants as he says, “Jacob Scott is his name. A potential client of hers.”

  “Not my wife.” I bite it out, although I already know it’s true. “She’s not going to move on so fast.”

  The worst part is that I don’t even blame her. I’m dying inside. Every night I’m thinking about how my father should still be here and my wife should be in bed with me. Instead I’m alone, clutching a fucking t-shirt Pops always wore. He gave it to me when he gained a little weight and it didn’t fit him anymore. It’s just a shirt from a shop he used to work at. It’s not even around anymore.