Page 22 of Ugly Beautiful Scars

"Have you seen that man again?" Sean asks, turning to face me. "The one in the baseball cap you thought was following you?"

His expression is concerned, gentle even, but I still can't quite meet his gaze directly. I focus on his shoulder instead.

I'm hyperaware of how the space feels smaller with two men in it, so I inch toward a corner. "Actually, I… I haven't left my apartment since I got back from the conference. I've been working from home."

Now both of Sean's eyebrows twitch. "Two weeks? You haven't gone outside at all?"

I shake my head, feeling suddenly foolish. "I can be a hermit sometimes. I get groceries delivered. And work doesn't care as long as I check in virtually."

He flashes a lopsided smile that stretches his full lips, and that bloom of warmth across his face actually quiets my trembling. "Eh, I do that too," he says. "Sometimes it's nice to hide away. 'Cause you know… people."

I find myself returning his smile. "Yeah. People." I end with a shrug to emphasize our shared understanding that people can be… ugh.

He laughs, and I try to make proper eye contact like a normal human being. I manage it for a second, long enough to notice the various shades of brown in his eyes: rich mocha, chestnut, honey. He has a really handsome smile. His posture is perfect, his body lean but clearly strong. He's not bulky with showy muscles, but I suspect there's significant power contained in that frame. The kind of strength that's functional rather than decorative.

Then I think of his hands. Well,holdinghis hand at the conference. Really, I don't know what came over me. First, I surprised myself by actually accepting a handshake; I haven't touched or let a man touch me in six years. Then when his longer, thicker fingers were wrapped around mine I felt… safe. It felt like I had been dangling off a cliff and Sean suddenlyappeared, reaching over the edge to grab my hand, saying, "Don't let go." And I knew, I justknewthat he wouldn't let me fall; he'd pull me up to safety.

The strange feeling I felt at the conference overwhelms me again until I snap back to reality and realize he's smirking at me. My brain, of course, superimposes The Director's face over Sean's again, and I have to look away.

This isn't fair to Sean. It's just my mind's masochistic way of tormenting me.

I glance at Mike, who looks like he wants to share in our understanding of 'people' but doesn't know what to say.

Sean tries to shift things back to the task at hand. "Why do you think someone is following you?"

"I… I don't know. I'm probably making it all up. I'm, you know, an anxious type." That would be the best-case scenario.

Mike chimes in, "Is there anything you can tell us about your situation? Have you dealt with stalkers in the past? Anyone who might have reason to intimidate you?"

The question lands like a bomb in the middle of this sunny afternoon. My heart rate spikes, and I can feel sweat prickling along my hairline.Yes,I want to blurt out. But I don't because how could I actually tell them? About The Director? About what happened?

I just can't. I've never told anyone the full story. Not even Raven. Not even my therapist. Telling someone you were assaulted and raped is one thing. Telling them about the months of grooming that led up to it, how you were young and naive to the alarm triggers, how there was a party and you stumbled into a restricted area where women were being auctioned on stage, how you fled but the man caught you, chained you in a room for six days and…

Somewhere in my spiral, I find Sean's perceptive eyes. His head is tilted slightly like he's reading every racing thought I have.

I shake my head. Forget it. I can't share my story out loud and relive it. I already have enough nightmares and random flashbacks.

I force my body language open by letting my arms hang, then I relax my shoulders and flash Mike and Sean that shy, leading actress, girl-next-door look. "No one," I say with extra lilt in my voice. "I really don't know. Maybe an old coworker?"

"What about an ex?" Sean asks.

I swallow. "Maybe. Like I said, I'm not sure."

Sean studies me for a long moment, and I have the unsettling feeling that he's reading everything I'm not saying in the spaces between my words. But he only nods. "Okay. We'll work with what we have."

"Thank you."

I glance at Mike again, who broadens his smile like he's really trying to win me over.

My uneasiness must be too noticeable, because Sean pats Mike's shoulder. "I trust this man with my life, you know."

Mike actually blushes and rubs the back of his neck like a shy teenager.

"I do," Sean continues, looking at me as he talks. "We served together in the Marines. I've seen Mike in situations where most people would break. He never has." Mike opens his mouth to respond and Sean shakes his shoulder playfully. "Hey, man, don't deflect. And don't try to give me compliments back. I mean it. Londyn needs someone she can trust, and you're the only person I thought of. You're better than I am."

Mike's face is completely red now and he scoffs, his voice too high. "Hardly. You practically made Sergeant the second they recruited you."

Sean gets a faraway look for only a second—a haunted look that makes a crease between his brows slice through his skin—and I remember what he told me at the convention.

---