Page 9 of Beneath the Scars

I cut through the tape and push open the lid before grabbing my phone to dial Jayne's number. She was planning on being up late to watch her way through as many episodes as she could, so I'm not worried about waking her. Plus, it would be rude not to thank her.

"Hey, Lillian, what's up?" Jayne answers the phone within a couple of rings. I've already unearthed a massive bag of popcorn covered in caramel and a large box of red vines.

"Hi! Uh, sorry for phoning this late, but I wanted to say thanks." Next up is a decent bottle of red and a giant chocolate bar.

"Sorry, honey. What?" Jayne sounds confused and frankly a smidge out of breath. It's then I realize I can hear voices in the background. And music.

Oh shit. I fucked up.

"Shit. Sorry. You're busy. I'll phone back tomorrow," I mutter, moving to hang up the phone, but Jayne's voice calls out for me to wait before I can.

"Thank me for what, honey?"

"The gift you sent?" I respond, feeling utterly ridiculous. Obviously, she didn't send it. Why the hell would a woman I've only had a couple of lunches with at work send me a gift anyway?

"Listen, sorry. I made a mistake and probably should have checked the card first. I'll see you tomorrow at work. Enjoy whatever you're doing. Bye!" And this time, I hang up before she can say anything else.

As an extra safety measure, I turn off my phone in case she tries to call back because she's sweet—even with crazy, weird girls who work in basements and have zero social skills.

Pushing down the embarrassment threatening to overwhelm me, I stare at the box in front of me, trying to figure out where the fuck it could come from. I'd lied my ass off to Jayne; it didn't come with a card other than the big note on the front labeling it as the delivery guy described.

Sure, I'd been vocal about my love for the stupid TV show. But my circle is only so big, and no one in it comes to mind as someone who would go through all the trouble of making up a box of thoughtful itemsandfinding a late-night delivery service to bring it to my door.

Karl is not the kind of guy to do something like this. He's sweet and listens, but he's a guy's guy. And Mr. Shafer doesn't even pay attention to the shifts I'm supposed to be working. There's no chance in hell he's sent me a gift, let alone a thoughtful one.

It doesn't leave me with many options. I've made some casual small talk with nurses and admin staff who work in the lower levels of the hospital, but other than Jayne, who's a relatively new transplant, and Karl, I barely speak to anyone on a day-to-day basis.

Who the fuck sent me this package? And the even bigger question is, how did they know to do it?

Chapter Eight

Lillian

Okay,soI'mnervousabout my plans with Jayne.

I've never had a friend before. I'm well aware of how bad that sounds, but growing up, it was me and Becky. Bringing friends home would be too risky with my Dad and his moods, so we both found it safer and easier to stick to ourselves.

And since... well, since that night, it's been me, myself and I. There is no one else to rely on but no one else to lose and mourn either.

Shaking off the dark thoughts, I grab the provisions I'd brought for tonight and knock on Jayne's door. She lives in a beautiful condo facing Tanner Springs Park, and even just being here makes me feel out of place.

The upside is the people on the street are such a mix of eccentric artists, young professionals, and moms rushing home with their kids that no one paid me any mind as I walked down the street to get to Jayne's building.

"You made it!" She smiles at me as she steps back to invite me inside. We do the whole awkward shuffle where I try to hand over my coat and scarf without dropping any of the extra stuff I brought, but somehow, Jayne's effortless class and easygoing manner make it smoother. "You find the place, okay?" she questions while leading me to the kitchen island.

Her place is exactly like her: classy, beautiful, and just casual enough to invite you to take a seat and put your feet up. The entrance opens into a large open-plan living room and kitchen with a cozy fire against one wall, the kitchen range against another, and a hallway that more than likely leads to the rest of the place on the third side. The fourth wall is made of glass. If I walked up to it, I would look down on the stunning vista of Tanner Park, but no way am I wandering around in Jayne's apartment like I own the place.

"Yeah, thanks. Your directions are spot on, and your home is beautiful."

She smiles at me before taking the bottle of wine I'd brought and waggles her eyebrows. "Nice."

Pouring a glass for each of us, she invites me to sit at the island. "I'm thrilled you agreed to come over tonight."

Okay, Lily. Big girl panties.

"Yeah, thank you for inviting me. I don't get out much." There. That's not too creepy or sad, right?

Jayne leans forward on the kitchen counter, resting on her elbows, her face all smiles as she laughs. "You're telling me. Since moving here, I've had the worst time making decent friends. People either only want to go out and get drunk every night, or they have an unhealthy obsession with setting me up with their husband's co-workers."

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