The Scars Keeper

by Scarlet Wolfe

  “I get it now.”

  “Get what?”

  “Why Hayden’s drawn to you. You’re insightful. He needs someone deep because that boy feels and thinks down to his bones. He’s like his mother in that way.

  “She was adventurous, curious and genuinely kind, too. Hayden’s like her more than he wants to admit.”

  “You said she traveled with his dad. Was he a businessman?”

  “Ha! That’s funny. No, it was nothing like that. They, uh, enjoyed taking trips on his motorcycle.”

  The door creaks, and Hayden is standing inside with his forehead creased.

  “What are you telling her?”

  “Only how amazing your mother was, dear. That should never be a secret.”

  “Avery and I will be hanging out in my room.” He still looks frustrated, so I stroll over to him and take his hand.

  “Jewel, I’d be honored to own one of your paintings. Can I purchase one soon?”

  “Of course. It would mean a lot to me to know it’s in the possession of someone who will appreciate it. Come back one day, and tell me which one you’d like. I’ll give you a good price.”

  “Thank you.” Hayden and I head toward the house, and if I didn’t long for his company, I’d stay here and hang out with Jewel. She’s awesome.

  “I love your aunt.”

  “Yeah, she’s cool and nice.”

  “She loved your mom a lot.”

  “She did ...”

  I follow Hayden up a staircase to his room. Its layout is identical to mine, but he has a king-size bed instead of a queen taking up the middle of it. The headboard faces us, and a black comforter is haphazardly covering it.

  To my right near the bathroom door is a hamper overflowing with clothes, and I’m guessing most of them were moved there minutes ago from his floor.

  There’s a small entertainment center to my left that has a blue-ray player and stereo system on it. A TV hangs on the wall, and a dresser rests just past that. Like in my room, windows overlook the backyard.

  “If only your walls were turquoise. Then we’d have matching rooms.” I poke his side and smile up at him. His walls are painted a light grey.

  “Yeah, the similarities kind of freaked me out the day I was in your room.” Sitting on the side of his bed, he removes his boots.

  He stretches out on his side atop his comforter and pats the space next to him. “Wanna lie with me? We have some things to discuss … and do.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Avery

  Hayden’s request leaves me nervous as I slip off my shoes. Joining him, I curl up against his side. He wraps an arm around me and pulls me closer.

  “What happened this morning?” he asks.

  “You saw.”

  “OK, why did it happen?”

  “My heart couldn’t hold another ounce of anger, and until you pulled me off of her, it was as if I didn’t know what I was doing. That’s scary.”

  “What are you so angry about? Or who are you angry with?”

  “I didn’t want to tell you, but my dad smacked me again last night, after he lectured me for thirty minutes about my shortcomings and his expectations.”

  Hayden stiffens beneath me. He’s holding his breath, too, so I sit up and look at him.

  “It’s OK. Calm down. I swear if he does it again, I’m leaving or pressing charges, or both, but maybe I should be more understanding. I mean, I did lose it today and punch a girl.”

  His hands grab my cheeks, and he brings my face to his.

  “It is not the same thing, Avery, and the anger he’s caused you to harbor came out on Chastity today. This is his fault, and Mr. Bradford’s, and whoever else treated you like shit. It stops here.”

  Pressing my lips to his, I hold them there, and as he glides his hands down my back, my fingers slide into his hair I’ve been dying to feel between my fingers.

  I’m against his chest now, our mouths molding together, and I can’t hold back my whimper from how Hayden affects me both emotionally and physically.

  He must be like his dad because I’m completely enamored by Hayden much like his mom was with his father. I’d move across the country with him right now if the alternative was to not see him at all.

  We take a breather from kissing. He brushes hair from my face and gazes at me with those haunting black eyes that mask the real him that is full of light.

  “I’m learning the reasons why you harm yourself. Can I ask what made you do it the first time?”

  “I was shopping with friends, and I left them in a store to go buy a pretzel at this little stand in the middle of the mall. Dad had me running laps at the track that morning, so I was starving.

  “This girl I didn’t know was in the line in front of me. I gasped without thought when I saw the scars lining her arms.

  “Turning around, she glared at me, and I don’t recall what she spouted off because too many questions were running through my head. How did she find the nerve to do it? Did it hurt? Why was she cutting? I was so curious.

  “I told her I was sorry and not judging her and how I’d never seen cutting scars in person before and that I found it intriguing.

  “She relaxed then and held her arm out for me to view. She ran her fingers over one of the deeper, jagged scars and said, ‘I know they look bad, and I shouldn’t do it, but I can’t describe how much it helps my anxiety. You wouldn’t believe the release it gives you.’

  “That was it. I was sold, and my father being a plastic surgeon only drove me further. I went home that night and scoured the internet to learn how to do it. I got the nerve two days later.

  “The girl was right; it helped my anxiety, but it was short-lived. The panic, worry and anxiety would return with shame and regret accompanying it. The more I did it, the more it seemed I needed that endorphin release, too.

  “Then, once the new semester began and Mr. Bradford started pursuing me, I found myself doing it more and more.

  “I want to stop, but I haven’t known how. I hate myself for it. I feel like a failure for doing it and more of one for being unable to stop.”

  “You’re not a failure, and I can’t stand to hear you say you hate yourself. You’re doing better, right? Have you cut since the day I took you to the clinic?”

  “No.”

  “Then there’s hope. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. Mr. Bradford is out of the way now. I know the memories are there, but I hope I can help replace them with good ones.”

  My lips give his one soft kiss.

  “You’re already doing that.”

  “If you can get your parents to back off, that should help, too. I think you should go see one of those counselors the clinic told you about, as well. I could pay for it.”

  “I can’t let you do that.”

  “I have a lot of money at my disposal. More money than my aunt and uncle know I have, so let me use it for something good.”

  I grip the top of his t-shirt and stare at my fingers.

  “Please tell me you don’t deal drugs.”

  His chest bounces beneath me from laughter.

  “No. I’m not a drug dealer.”

  “But, you’re not going to tell me why you have a lot of money, are you?”

  “No, and it’s another thing you need to trust me on. I only told you because I want you to get the counseling. I think it would help.”

  “I’ll consider it. I’m going to pick your brain now. Who taught you to play the guitar?”

  “My mom. She was in a band for years. They played mostly folk music, but depending on the crowd and venue, they played southern rock, too.”

  “It’s great she taught you to play. It’s a way to carry on a part of her, and if you teach your kids, she’ll be here for years to come.”

  Sliding his hand to the nape of my neck, he pulls me to him, and I feel his scorching breaths.

  “You’re so damn beautiful, inside and out.”

  “Thank you.”

&n
bsp; “Now, enough talking. I believe it’s time for me to taste your mouth again.”

  “Be my guest,” I whisper.

  Avery

  It’s six o’clock, and I’ve been studying at my desk since I came home from Hayden’s at four. I’m distracted, though, thinking about the fight and what my parents will say and do.

  I need more answers for them about what will happen from here. I also owe Chastity an apology. Maybe she won’t press charges if I give her that.

  Logging in to Facebook, I search for her. We have one mutual friend, so that leads me right to her. Biting my lip, I click on the message tab to send her a private message.

  Me: Chastity, I want to apologize for today. I was so far out of line, and I feel terrible for hitting you. Your words hurt, but it was no excuse.

  I’m asking for your forgiveness and begging you not to press charges against me. Also, can I ask what I did to make you hate me so much? I really don’t know.

  Time ticks by. A half hour … hour. A message from her finally appears.

  Chastity: I’m not pressing charges. That seems stupid to me. I’m not hurt that bad, and god forbid I be the one to mess up your perfect future.

  As far as what you did to make me hate you … I don’t. I just don’t like how easy your life is compared to mine. You’re pretty, popular, smart and good at everything. It gets annoying.

  Thanks for the apology, and I’m sorry I called you a snotty bitch. I guess you can’t be too much of one since you’re apologizing.

  Me: Thank you. For the record, behind my exterior and achievements … behind the walls of my home or my parents’ money, I’m broken. People aren’t who they seem. I imagine you’re not, either. Peace, Chastity.

  Feeling overwhelming relief, I shoot Hayden a text.

  Me: A few things. Chastity isn’t pressing charges, and I apologized to her. Oh, and I miss your lips on mine, your thick hair in my fingers and the feel of your hands on me.

  Hayden: Three things. I’m more impressed by you every day, I’m missing you, and you can stop sucking up because I’m not telling you more about my past like you asked for repeatedly today.

  Me: Fine. Honestly, your lips and hands are average. Actually, everything about you might be ordinary.

  Hayden: I love a challenge, sweetheart. It’s on now.

  Me: I might need to insult you more often. I hear the front door. Sigh. It’s time to face the parents. Wish me luck.

  Hayden: Be honest with them like you are with me, and it’ll be OK. My ORDINARY being is here for you.

  Me: I’ll tell you another one of my secrets. I think you’re extraordinary. Every single part of you.

  I’m holding my breath as I listen to the footsteps coming up the stairs. There’s a light knock before Mom steps inside.

  “Hi. We need to talk.”

  I turn the chair at my desk to face her.

  “I guess you got a call today? Why isn’t Dad in here screaming at me?”

  Taking a seat on the edge of my bed, she gracefully places her palms on her thighs. As always, her appearance is one of elegance.

  You can see only a touch of her lacy silk camisole under her pink blouse. Her blond hair is up in a twist, and somehow her makeup is still on from this morning.

  “Your father agreed it would be best if I handled this. Avery, I’m so sorry he slapped you. He is, too. We also know you acted out today because of it. We’re not punishing you, but don’t let it happen again. Another incident like this, and you’ll ruin your future.”

  “Chastity is not pressing charges. I’m sorry, Mom. The anger in me boiled over. I don’t know how I’m popular at school when I feel like most of the kids hate me. They don’t know me, either. Once Chastity called me names, I lost it.”

  “Your dad admitted he’s hit you before. He’s aware I’m furious about it, and I told him he better never do it again. He’s used to getting his way, and I’m partly to blame for that.

  “You’re grown up now, and we’re struggling to accept that, too, but the bottom line is we love you and want the best for you.”

  She pads over and bends down to wraps her arms around me. She kisses my cheek, and this is the most undivided attention I’ve received from her in ages.

  “Mom, wait,” I say to her as she reaches the door. “Thank you for talking to me and being understanding. I like when we get time alone.”

  “I do, too. It doesn’t happen often enough.” She leaves, and I wonder if she realizes she and Dad are the reason it doesn’t happen often enough.

  Swiping my phone off my desk, I send Hayden a text.

  Me: It went better than I expected. I’m not grounded, so this weekend you can show me how extraordinary you are. I’ll miss you while you’re at school.

  Next, I message Madison, who’s been texting me every hour for an update of my parents’ wrath.

  Me: I’m not grounded. Shocker, right? Want to hang out tomorrow night? I’ve been neglecting our friendship, and I’m sorry about that. Can I take you shopping?

  Madison: Aww, did I hear the word shopping?? If so, I’m totally down for it. Pick me up at six, my BFF.

  Well, the day ended better than it began. Maybe it will be up from here. Taking a break from studying, I find my journal and write about the events of the day, not forgetting to record the details of my special time with Hayden.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Hayden

  It’s Saturday, and after working all day with my uncle on a house he’s building, I’m ready for a shower. I’m also starving and eager to see Avery. She went shopping with Madison last night, and I hung out with Joey.

  It’s not good that I don’t want to go a day without seeing her, but I can’t seem to control a single damn feeling these days.

  I even agreed to a picnic with her in the woods this evening. I never imagined myself on a date with a girl and a picnic basket, but I don’t think there’s much I wouldn’t do for her.

  After I’ve showered, I see I have a missed text from my girl.

  Avery: I’m holding the fried chicken hostage if you don’t bring your guitar and serenade me.

  Me: Nowhere in the boyfriend manual does it say picnics and serenading required.

  Avery: I guess you haven’t reached Appendix A: Section 309 of Rewards and Bases.

  Me: Lol. All ears here. Continue please.

  Avery: Section 309 clearly states that picnics which include serenading by guitar earn a second-base reward. You need to brush up on your studies, or you’re gonna miss out.

  Me: Guitar, check. Eager hands, check. I’m ready.

  Holy hell, I’ll never get jeans over this hard-on. Since I’m still hot from working out in the sun today, too, I end up in black athletic shorts, a light grey t-shirt and tennis shoes.

  Taking my guitar with me, I head to the woods and wait for Avery. I get one song in before she appears, and like I expected, she’s carrying a blanket and a picnic basket. She’s also holding a small cooler.

  Her hair is down in waves tonight, and she’s wearing black skinny jeans and a snug yellow top that dips deep in a V, showing off her amazing rack. She gifts me a glowing smile as she comes closer.

  “Hey, baby.”

  “Hi.”

  I take the cooler out of her hands and carry it opposite of my guitar.

  “Follow me. Have you seen the pond yet?”

  “No, but I thought that looked like a dock through there.” She’s pointing to the path straight across from the benches and to the left of where her path meets the clearing.

  “It is, and I thought we could sit on the dock and eat.” I lead her down the dirt lane and onto the wooden dock.

  We reach the pond, and it looks gross in spots from the algae that coats it, but the sun manages to make parts of it shimmer.

  There’s something about the way the water is nestled between the blooming trees that makes it seem protected and sacred.

  “This is so cool. I can’t believe you have a private pond.”r />
  “We have a private pond.” Her eyes pull away from the water and land on me. They skirt down my body all the way to my feet.

  “I like the look. I’ve never seen you out of jeans or those boots of yours.”

  “Just say the word, baby, and you can see me out of jeans anytime.” Ducking down, I kiss her mouth the way I’ve been dying to since she was texting me her sexual innuendoes.

  I feel her smile against my lips, and it makes me happy because when she’s smiling, I know she’s not dwelling on anything negative.

  “OK, lay out the blanket before this chicken gets cold. It’s my mom’s famous recipe, and we made it together. I think you’ll like it.

  “I have good ol’ country green beans and potato salad, too. Oh, and we made homemade yeast rolls this afternoon. I swear they’re like crack. You won’t be able to eat just one.”

  While spreading the blanket out on the dock, I spot the IU college emblem and think about how awesome it would be if we could both attend there.

  She fixes our plates, and I open the cooler. She thought of everything. There are two small cups and a large mason jar filled with iced tea.

  “I’m guessing your mom knows where you’re at.”

  “She knows I’m with you, and she was happy to help me cook, but I went out the front door and around to the back so she would think I walked to your house.

  “This is our spot, and I don’t want them ever intruding on it. Dad has kept his distance since our fight, and Mom has been sweet and attentive, which is great.”

  “I’m glad.” We eat, and I do it not so politely since I’m hungry from working hard today. “This meal hits the spot. Thank you, and tell your mom thanks, too.”

  “I will.” Once I’ve helped her pack up our mess, I spread my legs open facing the pond and have her sit between them. She leans her back against my chest, and I lace our fingers together. We hear some birds but not much else, and the quiet is nice.

  “I enjoy it here,” she murmurs, “but mainly because I’m here with you … like this. I love being physically close to you.”