Page 28 of Ugly Beautiful Scars

Sean nods, then turns toward my bookshelf like he's been waiting all this time to give it attention. His fingers trail across several spines before pulling out a thriller novel I bought last year and haven't read.

"Mind if I borrow this?" he asks, holding it up.

The unexpectedness of the question loosens something in my chest. "Sure. But I should confess that I haven't read many of those books. Probably only two. I collect and then never read."

"Why not?"

I shrug, gesturing at the packed shelves. "I read slowly. Always have."

"You have a great selection," he says while running his fingers along a row of books like they're old friends. "Fiction. Self-help. History. It's very eclectic. I like that."

"I like learning about different things." The admission feels oddly intimate, like sharing a secret. "Whatever catches my eye."

"Me too. I'm always jumping between subjects. Science one week, philosophy the next. I need a good fiction book to clean my palate." He holds up the thriller novel. "This will be great."

"I hope you enjoy it. Tell me how it is because I'll sadly never read it. I have too many abandoned books."

"You should pick one. Something you've been meaning to read for a long time."

"Pick one, huh?" I move toward the bookcase, aware of his steady presence beside me as he waits. My fingers hoverover several spines before grabbing a book about quantum consciousness that's been gathering dust for at least two years. "This one," I say, pulling it out.

"Cool. I've read that. You'll like it." He grins, then gently bumps his borrowed book against mine. A literary toast. "Hey. Now we have a mini book club. We'll read our books this week and then discuss. Sound good?"

A smile spreads across my face like I'm breaking the fourth wall. "I love that idea. Though I warned you, I'm a slow reader."

He shrugs, casual and unbothered, like a man accustomed to going with the flow. "We'll talk about whatever you get read by next week, even if it's only one chapter."

"What if it's only one sentence?"

He laughs, the sound warming my belly. "When the writing is good, one sentence can be discussed for hours."

I clutch the book to my chest like it's now a bridge between us. "Thank you," I say softly.

My tone must carry a lot of gravity, because he tilts his head. "For what?"

"Has anyone told you that you have a way of putting people at ease?"

Sean laughs again. Just what I was hoping for. "My mom says I have 'resting intimidation face,' so you sure about that?"

"Yeah. You put me at ease. So… thanks."

Part of me really means that. Yet even as I say it, I know it's not entirely the truth. His features still trigger flashes of The Director in certain light, certain angles. But right now, that trigger feels manageable. Contained.

"I'm glad. Well, I should go help Mike with the setup." He taps the borrowed book against his palm. "I'm excited about this."

Me too.

I run my fingers over my book, tracing the embossed gold letters on the cover. For the first time since seeing that ominous man on the street, I feel something other than fear. Relief, maybe. The sensation of someone sharing my burden.

The only problem is, Sean doesn't understand how much of my iceberg remains hidden beneath the surface.

Chapter 10

SEAN

THE APARTMENT ACROSS FROM LONDYN'S, my temporary homebase, is so empty it amplifies every sound. Mike's voice bounces off bare walls as he unpacks in the bedroom, each word basically hitting me in the face like tiny sonic boomerangs. He's been talking non-stop about TV shows for the last twenty minutes while I set up our security hub.

"We definitely need to get a TV in here," he calls out. "I'm in the middle of this show about Vikings, but like, not the historical kind. The kind that eat people and have magical powers. Trust me, it's better than it sounds."

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