Page 17 of Scar Tissue

Smooth move to change the subject. “You don’t have to pick me up. I can Uber back. Let me just finish filling out this job application and I’ll be back within the hour.” I hang up the phone before he has a chance to protest and return to filling out the application, apology on my tongue. Pepper doesn’t think there will be any issue with hiring me but has to schedule an interview anyway and talk to the owners. I bid her farewell as I order another Uber, happy that Nathan heeded what I wanted. At least I know that he doesn’t have a tracker on my phone. That I know of, at least.

The Uber pulls upto the house and I find Nathan waiting out on the front porch for me, leaning against one of the support beams. I inwardly groan at how effortlessly sexy he looks and give myself a mental lashing just as I think it. Thanking the Uber driver, I get out of the back and close the door, staring at Nathan as the car speedsoff. He meets me halfway up the sidewalk and places his hands on my shoulders.

“What are you doing?” I raise my eyebrow in question.

“I wanted to talk to you before we went inside because I don’t want you to be caught off guard.” Oh god, this is it. This is where he tells me he has a girlfriend. “When I got called into work, it wasn’t for my day job.” I knew that Nathan worked for the FBI part time, but he also mentioned that he was cutting back on his work with them after everything that happened with Dylan and her uncle. “They needed me to take someone in. Emergency placement. She’s fifteen, and her name is Claire. She somehow managed to escape her captors and brought a fuck ton of evidence with her. But she doesn’t have any family and the system is overloaded right now. She also wants to help and I think she could use a mentor that isn’t a male or anyone with ties to the underground.”

My mind reels with what he’s just told me, my heart squeezing with sadness but also with hesitation. “I-I’m sorry. Are you suggesting I mentor her? That sounds like a fancy word for babysitting.”

“Trust me.” He drags his hands from my shoulders to either side of my face and I instantly stiffen at the intimate gesture. He must sense it, too, because he drops his hands to his sides, before running one of them through his hair, messing it up. “She made it very clear she doesn’t need a babysitter. But I thought that it might do you both some good to keep each other company. She’s got baggage, a lot of it. And I don’t mean to add hers to your own pile, but…”

“But you assumed that because I lost my own daughter that you would, what? Try to fix me by giving me someone else to take care of?” I finish his sentence, my voice tightening in frustration. I don’t mean to snap, but the way he’s talking makes it feel like my grief is something to be managed, and suddenly I’m right back at square one with Lucas.

His face falters before he regains his composure. “No,god no,Thea. That’s not what I’m trying to do at all. What I meant is thatyou understand loss in a way that most people don’t and therefore you might be able to help her. She doesn’t have anyone to lean on and I know you’re far from the right place to be anyone’s savior. I just…God, I’m fucking this up already. Maybe it’ll help you find some peace, too. That’s all.”

I laugh, but it’s hollow. “You don’t get it. My grief isn’t some puzzle piece that can be slotted into anyone else’s game. It isn’t a magical piece that fits wherever you want it to. This isn’t something that can just be solved by opening up to someone or letting someone else in.”

“I know that,” he says, quieter now. “I do. But she’s spiraling, and when I look at you…when I look at you, I see someone who knows what it’s like to stand on the edge and keep yourself from falling.” The expression on his face is defeated and I soften a little toward him, if only because he has no idea the double meaning those words have on me when it comes to him. But I still can’t help the flinch, either. Because he’s wrong. I fell, but I only managed to grab the edge at the last second, using all of my strength to pull myself back up. I survived it…barely.

“What, exactly, did she go through, Nathan?”

He looses a breath that he must have been holding waiting for me to snap back at him, and I feel a small bit of remorse for my initial reaction. I’m not happy, but I admire what he’s doing for a girl he barely knows. “I think it’s best if we all sit down together and talk. Just…hear her out first and if you decide you don’t want to be here, that you don’t want to do this, then I’ll figure something else out. Place one of you in a hotel. I should’ve talked to you about it first, and I’m sorry for that oversight.”

“So why didn’t you?”

But he just shakes his head and walks back into the house, holding the door open for me behind him.

Chapter

Twelve

NATHAN

Iknew better and yet I chose to do it anyway. If I want Thea’s trust and for her to come to me willingly then I need to start considering her feelings, regardless of whether or not I think I’m doing the right thing. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt her by making her think she has to fit into everyone else’s version of what grief processing should look like. I only turned and walked away from her when she asked why I didn’t talk to her about it, and the reality of the situation is that I didn’t have an answer for her. I thought I knew what was best and it bit me in the ass. But she still willingly follows after me, stopping in the doorway when she sees Claire seated on the living room couch.

“Claire…this is Thea, my…”

“Roommate,” Thea finishes for me, even though she’s a lot more than that to me. A lot more. They stare at each other for a few moments and I feel the pressure rise in the room with the tension.

“Claire has already been shown to her room, but I was hoping that you would be willing to take her shopping to get her whatever she needs?” If I’m trying to prove that Thea isn’t her babysitter, I’m doing a shit job at it. “Only if you both want to. We can always orderthings online but that would take a little longer and you didn’t come with much, so…”

“I think you forget that I don’t have a car.” Thea turns her attention on me, and I have to admit that I’m surprised she’s even considering it. Whether that’s because she realized that unless she wants to stay in a hotel, she was stuck being around Claire, or if because she’s trying to be open minded. Either way, I’ll take it.

“You can borrow mine. I’ll be around formulating a plan and doing research so I’m not going to be leaving unless I’m called in for anything. I’ve already canceled everything for my day job.” Claire still hasn’t spoken. She’s just watching the interaction between Thea and I with curious eyes. She’s a bit abrasive along the edges, but I know below the surface there’s a soft part of her just locked away. If I had to guess, she chooses to act this way because it’s what’s protected her and kept her sane after all this time.

Thea just nods as she glances back at Claire. “You down?”

“Do I really have a choice?” she bristles.

Thea tilts her head, considering her for a long moment before shrugging. “He said you do, and I don’t really care one way or the other. But if you want to wear clothes that are two sizes too big for you and look like you belong in an alleyway, be my guest.” I palm my face, holding my breath for Claire to react in some way, but instead there’s a slight twitch of her lips as she stands up, but it’s gone in moments and she’s impassive once more.

“Fine. But I’m not going to pretend like we’re friends and just so we’re clear, you’re not the boss of me, either.” She crosses her arms as she faces off with Thea.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, kid. Keys and card?” Thea turns to me, holding out her hand expectantly. I toss them to her, and she catches them without looking. “Try not to wreck my car.” She just gives me a flat look. “I’d have to care enough to do it on purpose.” Ouch.

Claire watches our exchange once more, her gaze flicking between us before she shakes her head. “I don’t know why you’re worried about me when you guys clearly have your own shit to workout.” The comment is directed at me and a part of me wants to tell her to watch her language, but I’m choosing my battles. Something tells me I’m going to have a hard enough time getting her to break her walls down and listen.

Neither of them looks particularly thrilled, but at least they’re both willing to try. That’s more than I was hoping for when we walked through the front door.