SCARS Read Online Free Page A

was there to catch me when I did.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Four
                  How long we sat in that coffee shop I’ll never know. I just know that if it was possible to lose your heart in the span of a few seconds that I had just done it.
                  “What now?” I asked.
                  “I’m not sure. I haven’t been in a stable relationship…ever.”
                  “Fair enough.”
                  I was trembling. Was this really happening? Was love happening? To me of all people?
                  “C’mon. You shouldn’t walk home in this weather. Pack up your things.”
                  “What if I want to stay and write?”
                  “We will if you want. Do you want to?”
                  My mouth was dry. Of course I didn’t. I loved to write. And I knew the idea was taking shape in my head. That I had found my muse. And that stories would soon be written. But at that exact moment I wanted to feel the warmth and heady rush that came with falling hard.
                  “What do you want?” I asked.
                  “I want you.”
                  How long? How long had it been since I heard those words and knew that the man whispering them wasn’t lying to me. Or was going to take it back when he learned the truth?
                  Slowly I packed my things and when I went to put on my coat he shook his head no and took it from me and helped me to slide it on. I zipped it up. I went to pick up my computer bag and he took it from me.
                  “A gentleman carries his girlfriend’s bags.” I blushed. “I know I’m no gentleman, but you deserve one.”
                  He held out his hand and I took it. When I did, he linked his fingers through mine.  In silence we walked out of the coffee shop. It was snowing again. As the flakes fell he helped me into his pick-up and slid the laptop into floorboard at my feet.
                  He shut the door and I buckled up. 
                  When he got in he did the same and looked down at his steering wheel. He then turned that intense blue gaze on me and I felt my senses come alive.
                  “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
                  “Are you ready to put the bottle down?”
                  “Are you religious or something?”
                  “No. Dad was a big drinker. Was constantly telling me how worthless I was. How big a disappointment I was. How much of an oinker or a whale that I was.”
                  James stared at me with such sorrow I could feel the tears coming again. I turned away. He reached over my chin and turned it back.
                  “Do you believe that’s why he did that?”
                  I shook all over. “It only enhanced his cruel nature. Up until the day he died he was like that.”
                  James’ expression hardened. “How did he die?”
                  “A one car drunk driving accident. I was eighteen. He had blacked my eyes. Not for the first time. As I tried to intervene between him and Mom. He would’ve killed her if I hadn’t.”
                  “I’m such an asshole.”
                  It pained me to hear him take that view himself. “No you’re not,” I protested, my voice shaking. “You need help. You’re not an asshole.”
                  “If that piece of shit were alive his death wouldn’t have been so quick and easy.”
                  “He lingered in a coma for weeks. My mother still mourns him and her first husband. Calls them ‘good men’. When I told her I wouldn’t be at the funeral she stopped talking to me. Now when we pass each other it’s a painful