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Chapter Eight
Iwake up Saturdaymorning feeling a little better than I have over the last few days. My dinner with Carson weighed heavily on my mind throughout the night and sleep did not come easy. But once it did, I found a little peace from my broken heart.
After making my usual morning muffins, I hand things over to Maria and Kari and head out to run a few errands. Stopping by the pharmacy, I pick up my birth control prescription and run over toPerfect Pressto pick up Kari's dry cleaning.
Had I realized it was her entire wardrobe that needed picking up, I would have declined her request to grab it up for her. But I'm guessing she already knew that which is why she didn't tell me.
I make the four block walk back toLayers,struggling to keep a hold of all the clothing bags that I have draped over my arms. By the time I reach the bakery, my arms feel like they are about to fall off and beads of sweat have formed along my hairline. I push my way inside, cursing Kari under my breath as I struggle with the door.
Turning sideways so that I can get through the door without dropping anything, I pin my eyes directly on Kari behind the counter and throw her the meanest look I can muster.
Normally she would smile or shrug, something that would ease the frustration I feel. When she does none of those things and simply stares back at me with a look I can't quite pinpoint, my stomach immediately twists in knots.
“Here. Let me help you.” I hear his voice, only it can't be his voice. My goodness, am I so far out of it that every man is starting to sound just like him? But as I glance in the direction of the man lifting the clothing from my arms, everything seems to freeze in place.
Westin's actions to free me of the clothing happens in slow motion. I can hear every inhale, see every speck of dust as it falls around us, and yet, I can't react. I just stand, completely dumbfounded and in total shock.
“I... I,” I start to say, but trip over my words.
“Here, I got these.” My Aunt Kari's voice finally pulls me from my fog and I snap my eyes toward her. “Thanks for getting these, Scar. I got things here,” she says, taking the clothes from Westin before laying them across the table next to her, gesturing her eyes toward the door.
I know what she's telling me. Take it outside, Scar. Don't make a scene in our place of business, Scar. Handle this the right way, Scar. And while all of that sounds great in theory, I can't help but wonder if I have the power to act so collected when I feel so torn apart inside.
“Um... Yeah okay,” I manage to get out, turning quickly and exiting the bakery.
I don't look at Westin on my way out of the door, eager to be out of the confines of walls and into the open space where I feel like I can breathe a little easier. I don't hear Westin follow me as I turn right and start walking.
I have no idea where I’m going, just that I need to move. I need to do something,anything, to keep myself from absolutely losing my mind. What the hell is wrong with this man? Hasn't he done enough?
His constant calling has been hell to endure. And now this? He flies across the country only days after I tell him I never want to see him again.
Confusion and anger bleed together in a lethal combination and I feel the rage boil in my chest, just waiting to be unleashed.
But then, underneath it all, underneath the sadness and hurt, the anger and betrayal, a very small part of me is happy. I can't explain it. It makes absolutely no sense, yet it's there just the same.
“Scar. Please wait,” Westin calls from behind me as I round the corner, a good block away fromLayers. I continue walking, not ready to turn around and face him. Not ready to feel what I know I will feel when I look into those blue eyes. “Scarlett,” he says again, this time more commanding, reminding me too much of my father and how he used to think he could control me with words.
This immediately has my mind reeling as I stop without warning and spin to face him, causing a couple of people making their way down the sidewalk to side step past me, throwing annoyed looks in my direction.
For once, I don't care what they think. I don't care if I look or seem completely crazy. Because that is exactly what I feel.
“What!” My voice carries much further than I intend, and I can see other heads turning in our direction.
Downtown Rockland is always bustling this time of morning and I know that making a scene like this is the last thing I should allow to happen.
Westin stops a couple of feet from me and for a moment just stares back at me. A humorless smile pulls up the corners of his mouth and I can't tell if it's pity, humor, or him just simply being an asshole. Either way, it makes me want to punch him square in the face.
“Are you just going to stand there and stare at me or are you going to tell me what the hell you want?” I spit out, crossing my arms in front of myself.
“I'm not here to hurt you, Scar.” He takes a hesitant step toward me.
I can't stop the laughter that erupts from my throat, and I can tell that Westin is caught off guard by my sudden outburst.
“You're kidding me, right?” I snap, looking at him in sheer disbelief. “Did you miss the part where you already hurt me, Westin?”
“Scar.” He takes another step toward me.
People continue to pass by us, throwing judging looks in our direction, and doing their best to eavesdrop on our conversation. Glancing around, I realize that it's not just the people passing by that are noticing our little altercation, but several others across the street are also staring in our direction.
