Echoes of Scotland Street

by Samantha Young

  I tiptoed back up the hall, coming to a rest against the staircase. I was reeling.

  “There’s nothing behind that charming smile but empty promises. You have nothing real to offer me or anyone that finds herself a victim of your flirtation. The difference between them and me, however, is that I’m smart enough to see you for what you really are . . . Nothing.”

  Nothing, nothing, nothing!

  I felt tears prick my eyes as I wondered how many times his mother had called him that.

  Ashamed, I sucked in a huge breath, blinked back the tears, and drew up the strength to approach the kitchen, this time noisily. Acting like everything was fine, I handed off the dirty dishes and returned to the sitting room to engage in small talk with Marco about his job as a construction site manager.

  I didn’t care if Cole ever saw me in a romantic light again. That ship had clearly sailed for him, and I couldn’t see how we’d have a future anyway given my track record with failed romances. But I was coming to care for this man and I couldn’t bear the thought that I had genuinely hurt him.

  I had to make him see that all the crap I’d dealt to him that awful day came from a place that had absolutely nothing to do with him. I knew I needed to fix any damage I’d caused him, even if it meant revealing all the damage someone else had caused me.

  CHAPTER 11

  N ot long after overhearing Cole and Hannah in the kitchen, Cole made our excuses and we bade the couple and their young family good night. I walked in silence beside Cole in the darkening night toward the main Morningside Road.

  “Is something wrong?” he said, bringing me out of my musings.

  Looking up at him, I was confused to find concern in his eyes. It amazed me that he could spend this whole day with me when he thought so little of me.

  I stopped on the quiet street and Cole halted too. “Why did you spend today with me?”

  Now it was his turn to appear bewildered. “What are you talking about?”

  “If I’ve discovered anything real about you, it’s that you’re pretty straightforward, so why do this today? Why spend time with me . . . ?”

  After a moment’s contemplation he said, “Because you’re friends with my friends. We work in a close-knit environment. I thought we should try to put our differences behind us.”

  “Does that mean that this whole day has been torture for you?”

  “What?” He grimaced. “No. Today has been . . .” He looked almost frustrated. “You’re like two different people. It confuses the fuck out of me.”

  “I’m not two different people, Cole. If you can stand to spend a little more time with me tonight, I’d like to talk to you about something.”

  He studied me carefully, and I could see lots going on in those gorgeous eyes of his. “Okay,” he eventually said. “My place is five minutes away. We can talk there.”

  I was so nervous on the walk to Cole’s I couldn’t speak at all. Thankfully he seemed to understand. He led us to a Victorian apartment building just off Bruntsfield Road. Once inside his flat on the second floor, I was distracted by its beautiful high ceilings and polished hardwood floors. Cole had furnished the flat in masculine dark woods, strong textures, and artwork that had obviously been carefully chosen. The living room had a gorgeous bay window dressed in heavy chocolate brown suede drapes to match the suede L-shaped sofa. There was an old Victorian fireplace in the center of the room. It was minimal and there were splashes of color in the cushions and rug, but none of it was deliberately coordinated. Everything had been chosen for comfort and function and yet somehow still worked stylishly in its period setting.

  The place also smelled like Cole.

  “Coffee?” he offered as I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.

  “Please. Milk, two sugars.”

  He left to make it and I lowered myself to the edge of the sofa, my knee bouncing up and down with my jitters. I was about to lay myself bare to him.

  I felt sick.

  When Cole returned, the concern was back on his face as he took me in, shivering. He handed me a mug of hot coffee. “If you like I can start the fire.”

  “Not if you’re warm.”

  His answer was to start the fire for me.

  I smiled gratefully at him as he took a seat in the armchair under the bay window.

  “So, what do you need to talk about?”

  Attempting to control my nerves, I took a deep breath and exhaled shakily. “That day I told you you were nothing . . .”

  Annoyance flashed in his eyes. “Look, Shannon, we’ve been over that. It’s done. Let’s move on.”

  “It’s not done,” I insisted. I was so scared at the thought of telling him about what I’d fled from in Glasgow, but at the same time I needed to open myself up to him if we were going to have any chance at real friendship. “For once I’m not going to be selfish with you. You deserve the truth even if I don’t want to tell it.”

  Cole scooted forward on his seat, eyebrows drawn together. “Shannon, what’s this all about?”

  “I’m not here to dump my problems on you. But I need to explain something about why I came to Edinburgh so you can understand why I said what I said to you and why, in the end, it really had nothing to do with you.”

  When he waited patiently, I continued. “I’m not a judgmental person, Cole. Not really. In fact, I’ve been known to forgive people even when their actions are beyond the point of forgiveness. I’ve always accepted people for who they are, always believing there was something special in everyone, something that others couldn’t see. And every time I’ve done that with the men in my life I’ve been proven wrong and everyone else right.”

  “Shortcake, I’m not following.”

  “I’m a bad-boy magnet,” I said with no humor, because as silly as it sounded out loud it was true. “A player magnet. To start there was a lead singer in a rock band who cheated on me, the biker who cheated on me, the secret drug dealer who stole from me, and my last boyfriend—the pièce de résistance. We were together for two years and his name was Ollie. He worked in a restaurant by day and was a drummer in a band at night. Tattooed, good-looking, cocky, charming, confident . . .”

  An understanding was beginning to dawn in Cole’s eyes.

  “Before Ollie, I’d already pissed off most of my family with the choices I’d made when it came to men. I’d been hurt so many times they believed it was my own fault, and I don’t think they’re necessarily wrong. They predicted Ollie would be a disaster, but I was so sure he was different from all the rest. He was romantic and into me, and to begin with he made me feel really special. Until slowly that started to change.

  “It was so subtle it took me a really long time to even realize what he was doing to me. How he had started to chip away at pieces of me. He belittled me, made me feel talentless and stupid. He made me feel like it was a miracle I’d managed to land him.”

  “He was a dick,” Cole snapped.

  “Like I said, I didn’t even know it was happening or how much he emotionally manipulated me into constantly choosing him over my friends and family. Almost two years—that’s how long it took me to wake the heck up.

  “It was so stupid,” I whispered, feeling the pain in my gut and in my chest. In fact, I ached all over with the memories. “It was a stupid thing that made me wake up. I was supposed to be going out that night with the girls. I hadn’t seen them in a while and I was always blowing them off for Ollie. So I was excited and all dressed up.

  “Ollie came into the bedroom. He told me I looked like a whore, which was his favorite word weapon. It hurt, like always.”

  Lifting my gaze to Cole, I sucked in my breath at the blaze of anger in his eyes. He gave me a taut nod of his head in a gesture to carry on.

  “I changed my clothes and gave him the silent treatment. He tried to placate me. And then somehow like always he manipulated me, attempting to make it out as though I was choosing my friends over him when he needed me. He’d had a bad day at work or so
mething and he just wanted a quiet night in with me. So I blew the girls off. They were beyond annoyed. Like, no-longer-speaking-to-me annoyed. And then a while later he said he was going out with the band.

  “I was so angry. I never argued with him, but I was so, so mad at him that night that I let him have it.” My eyes held Cole’s as I silently tried to prepare him. “Ollie didn’t say anything. He just swung his arm out and backhanded me across the face. He’s six foot and a drummer. I went flying across the room and caught my hip on the coffee table as I went down.”

  “Shannon . . .” Cole’s teeth were gritted and he was rising from his chair, but I halted him with tears in my eyes.

  “He was so apologetic. He cried. He promised it wouldn’t happen again. I believed him.” The tears fell. “I’m so stupid.”

  “I don’t know if I can hear much more without breaking something,” Cole said, his voice shaking.

  “I need you to. I need you to try to understand.”

  Muscle flexing in his jaw, he nodded.

  “I didn’t tell anyone. And although I stayed with him, what he’d done to me festered inside me. I couldn’t bear his touch, in bed or out, and he grew frustrated.” I exhaled heavily, my fingers trembling. Sometimes it felt just like yesterday. “He punched me one night when I shoved him off me.

  “The next morning he went to work and I called in sick. I packed all my clothes, only taking what I’d need—the rest could burn in hell along with Ollie for all I cared. However, it was like he had a sixth sense or something, because I was just about to leave when he walked through the door. He’d cut out of work early. I should have called Logan before it even got to that point.”

  “Logan?” Cole frowned.

  “My big brother.” The ache inside me intensified. “It’s just me, Logan, and my sister, Amanda, and our parents. But I’ve never been close to any of them, just Logan. My mum and Amanda had always resented how close Logan and me were. He was one of my best friends.”

  “I’m almost afraid to ask what happened next.”

  “Ollie took one look at my suitcase and he flipped out. He started yelling that I wasn’t going anywhere, that I was his, only his.” The stinging in my nose began again, the tears welling up fast as I heard his voice replaying in my head. “And then he was shouting . . . just nonsense and he . . . he started beating the living daylights out of me. I tried to fight.” I wanted Cole to know that. “I tried, but he was so much bigger than me—”

  “Shannon—”

  “He stopped hitting me.” I sucked in a shuddering breath. “And he started touching me, tearing at my clothes, repeating over and over that I was his. And I—I knew. I knew he was going to rape me.”

  Cole stood up suddenly, fists clenched at his side.

  I shook my head at his pleading eyes. “No. It was the last straw for me. He’d taken so much. I couldn’t let him take that. The adrenaline kicked in, numbing the pain, and I was clawing and scratching and biting at him. Eventually I kneed him between the legs and he lost his grip on me. I got out from under him, the adrenaline kept me going, and I got away.” That was when I started to cry in earnest and apparently Cole couldn’t deal with being across the room anymore.

  Suddenly he was on the sofa beside me, his arm around me, holding me close.

  “I should have gone to the hospital,” I sobbed. “Or the police. I didn’t think. I didn’t realize what a mess I was in. I went to Logan.” I stared up into Cole’s soulful gaze, brushing angrily at my tears as I pleaded silently with him to understand. “I didn’t think. I didn’t mean to be so selfish.”

  “Shh.” His grip on me tightened. “You went to the one person who made you feel safe. There’s nothing to feel guilty about.”

  “You’re wrong. There’s everything. I made the choice to be with a bastard like Ollie. And when things went horribly wrong I turned up at my overprotective big brother’s work covered in my own blood.” My shoulder hanging out of its socket, my right eye swollen shut, my clothes torn . . . “How did I think he would react?”

  Cole brushed his thumb over my cheek to catch a tear. “The way any man would react when someone he loves has been violated. He went to teach that fucker a lesson.”

  “Logan put Ollie in a three-day coma.”

  “Shit.”

  I nodded, lips trembling. “My brother got two years in prison.” And there it was. The worst thing I’d ever done.

  “Shannon,” Cole murmured in sympathy, tucking my head under his chin and tightening his arms around me.

  Rae knew about the attack, but she didn’t know about my brother. It was the first I’d spoken of it since leaving Glasgow.

  “I had to leave. My parents, my sister . . . they hate me for ruining Logan’s life.”

  “Your brother’s actions are his own,” Cole said, and I heard the tremor of anger in his words. “Don’t take that on. Your family is wrong.”

  “It would never have happened if I hadn’t made the choice to be with Ollie and men like him.” I pulled out of the comfort of Cole’s strong embrace and met his worried gaze. “The whole point of me telling you this is so you understand where my head is at. I came to Edinburgh to start over and to keep my distance from my old life, my old choices. From bad boys.” I laughed hollowly. “And the only interview I got was at a tattoo studio where the good-looking tattooed manager began flirting with me immediately like I was a sure thing.”

  Cole winced. “That wasn’t why, but I can see after everything you’ve been through—”

  “Why I thought that.” I smiled weakly. “But I presumed to know you because of that and I assumed you were like all the men who’d buggered up my life. All the men who had hurt and disappointed me. In doing so I said some unforgiveable things.”

  “Shannon—”

  “I need you to know that you are not nothing and when I said that, that was my issue. Not yours. You shouldn’t have to carry that.”

  In answer Cole bent his head toward mine, bringing our faces close as he cupped his hand around the back of my neck. He wanted all my focus and I gave it to him, somewhat transfixed, in fact. “It’s now completely forgotten, Shortcake. Think no more on it.”

  Relief, an overwhelming amount of relief I had not been expecting to feel, rushed over me, and the tears were back in my eyes but for a totally different reason now. “You forgive me?”

  “Sweet girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with an emotion I didn’t get. “How can you even worry about me after everything you’ve been through?”

  “Because you’re a good person,” I said.

  He gave my neck a squeeze in answer, but his eyes had turned hard. “What happened to Ollie?”

  “He recovered. He got a prison sentence—thirty months.”

  Cole curled his lip in disgust. “Is that it?”

  “The lawyer reckoned he would have gotten more, but Logan’s attack was detrimental to my defense.”

  He did not look happy, but he nodded.

  It was then I realized how close we were sitting, and how intimate we were as we gazed into each other’s eyes. It was suddenly very important to me that Cole didn’t misunderstand the reason why I’d told him my story. I didn’t want him to think this was some ploy to turn him around and . . .

  Feeling naked and vulnerable all of a sudden, I shifted back and his hand fell away. “I should go home.”

  “I don’t want you to leave when you’re upset. Stay,” he suggested like it was no big deal. “You can sleep in my guest room.”

  Just the idea of staying with Cole was too much for me to handle. I smiled kindly. “I’d like my own bed tonight.”

  He nodded and leaned down to press a kiss to my forehead. I stared at him, my blood hot, as he stood up. “Then let me see you home.”

  “You don’t have—”

  Cole cut off my protestations with just a look. A very stubborn, concerned, warm look.

  A look that knocked on my heart.

  A look I kept in my mind’s
eye as I closed my eyes to sleep that night.

  CHAPTER 12

  I didn’t know how Cole would act around me the next day at work. I did know it was Saturday, so there was a possibility he’d use how busy he was to avoid having to interact at all. On the weekend I’d taken to coming into work at the same time as the tattooists—half an hour before opening.

  Although nervous, I also felt relieved that he knew the truth, so I was in a fairly good mood as I came in bearing coffee for everyone.

  I took Cole his coffee first.

  When I knocked on his door and stepped inside, he looked up from a document he was reading and his expression brightened at the sight of me.

  It winded me.

  He stood up, grinning when I held his coffee out to him. Instead of taking it, he wrapped his hand around mine and we held them there. “How are you feeling?”

  Noting the dark circles under his eyes, I had to wonder if my troubles had caused Cole to have a sleepless night. That was sweet; it really was. But now I felt terrible because for the first time in a while I’d slept like a baby.

  I gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m fine. Honest.”

  He let go of me, taking the coffee with him. The look he gave me . . . it was as if he wanted to protect me in Bubble Wrap.

  “Cole.” I smiled again, more than a little enchanted by him. “I know I had a meltdown last night, but honestly I’m okay. I have a good life here—a good job, good friends. I’ve found more than I ever hoped to find when I moved here, so please don’t worry about me.”

  “That’s a tall order.” He shook his head, his smile wry. “You’re made of stern stuff, Shannon MacLeod.”

  “It’s the hair. It’s magic hair.”

  Cole laughed. “It is definitely magical.”

  “Am I getting my coffee any fucking time soon?” Rae yelled from next door.

  I giggled at her irate tone and I swear Cole’s eyes lit up at the sound of my laughter.

  I felt all warm and gooey inside. “I’d better . . .” I gave him a little wave and walked out, sure I could sense his eyes on me until I disappeared out of sight.