The Scars Keeper Page 7

  “I can’t get close to you, and don’t bother asking why because I can’t tell you. Good night, Avery.”

  Turning his back on me, he disappears into the darkness. I remain still, wondering why every male either wants to take advantage of me or push me away.

  What’s so wrong with me? And what secret is Hayden Jamison hiding?

  Chapter Ten

  Avery

  I’ve spent Monday through Thursday of this week ignoring Hayden. I never made eye contact with him, and I reverted my attention to Blake. At least he’s still hanging in there with me, even if it comes with doses of criticism.

  Surprisingly, Mr. Bradford tutored me Tuesday, and I figured he was playing it safe and feeling out the water, fearful I might turn him in.

  He still made suggestive comments and insinuated I wouldn’t be as fortunate this afternoon, so I’m standing against the wall outside his classroom with trepidation.

  I’m taking quick, shallow breaths as the anxiety builds, and spotting Hayden coming toward me leaves me gasping for air.

  I can’t avoid looking straight into his eyes this time, and maybe it’s from a need to feel protected by him.

  Tell him. Tell him what a pervert Mr. Bradford is.

  His brow furrows as he looks from me to our teacher’s closed door to my left. Dragging his teeth over his bottom lip, he appears to be biting back a comment. He picks up his pace and continues by me without a word.

  Wonderful. Now, he probably thinks I not only flirt with guys besides my boyfriend but that I will also sleep with my teacher.

  In the two years I’ve been with Blake, I’ve never cheated, but once I touched Hayden and gazed into his eyes like a girl with a bad crush, I crossed a line.

  Ugh, I’m stalling, so I tap on Mr. Bradford’s door and enter. Looking over from his desk, his eyes drag a smile up from his lips.

  “You know what to do, Avery.”

  I guess we’re not studying physics today. I drop my backpack to the floor. The light is switched off next, and I pad toward him slowly, just the way he likes.

  My gut tells me he’s going to push the limit today since I haven’t reported him, and the idea makes my lip quiver and stomach tighten.

  He stands once I reach him, and his smile vanishes. Shoving a hand in my hair, he grabs hold of it and tilts my head back.

  “I knew you wanted it. Your perfect future is too important to you to screw up, too, and god forbid someone find out that you’re the whore we both know you are.

  “How many guys are you sleeping with at this school? Once I get to fuck you, it better only be me.”

  Cry.

  Scream.

  Run.

  CUT!

  My mind wants to do all these things, but instead I’m holding my breath, wishing I could keep it in until I can never take another one. My body is paralyzed and petrified as I stare into his muddy brown eyes.

  He’s evil and calculated, and he’ll scar me worse than a shiny blade ever could because he’s not a means to relief like a blade is.

  No, he’s the creator of a lifetime of emotional scars. Wounds I won’t know how to heal.

  Yanking my head forward, he slams his lips to mine, and I jerk back, finally having no choice but to grab a fast breath.

  Clenching my hip with his other fingers, his hands shackle me in his prison. He forces my mouth open with his, and I won’t kiss him. I won’t, I won’t, I won’t!

  His tongue …

  No, no, no …

  Scars.

  Scars.

  Scars.

  Rescue me ...

  Hayden.

  Hayden.

  Hayden.

  Rescue.

  Me.

  Hayden

  Mr. Bradford is a freak. The fear on Avery’s face gave it away. Her expression as she stared at me outside his classroom was a silent plea for help, but I did the cowardly thing and walked on by.

  No. It wasn’t cowardly–it was smart. I can’t draw attention to myself, or it will risk putting my family in danger.

  If the Marksmen Steel MC finds out I’m hiding out in Indiana, which is a long shot but possible, everyone who matters to me will be in danger.

  But … Avery already matters. In only days, she managed to worm her way inside my fucking head, and her stubborn ass keeps jerking on the chains around my heart.

  I can’t hand over the key to someone like Avery Hollingsworth. Only a woman accustomed to living the MC life could ever have a shot at that.

  Yet, here I am quietly walking back down the empty hallway to where Avery was standing. My heart is racing, and I’m counting every locker number as I pass them.

  Reaching Mr. Bradford’s classroom, I lean my back against the wall right next to his door. My eyes close to tune out everything, and I strain to hear their voices. They’re muffled, but then I hear the word “whore.”

  My fists tighten, and it’s all I can do not to bust down his door. He wouldn’t be calling her that if she was consenting to whatever vile shit he’s doing to her.

  Avery’s fragile, and I swear on my life that if whatever this is pushes her over the edge, I’ll find him and make him pay.

  My anger and urges are at war with the restraint I’m barely hanging onto. I curse under my breath and push off the wall.

  Storming down the hallway, I bang my fist against the last locker, leaving a small dent in it. I stomp to my bike and reach up to fist my hair.

  How can you leave her in there?

  Avery said her parents don’t play around. Well, my father doesn’t, either, and I was given strict orders to remain under the radar. I have no choice but to leave her behind.

  I reach my black Harley-Davidson Low Rider and throw on my helmet. Tearing out of the parking lot, I see the guys running on the track in the distance. I imagine that’s where her boyfriend is.

  He shoots a territorial look to any guy who glances Avery’s way, yet she obviously doesn’t trust him for shit, and how can he sit by and let her cut on herself? If she was mine, I’d find a way to help her.

  Taking the long way home down country roads, I’m reckless, driving too fast or taking turns too sharp. I miss the rush I felt when I would get to ride with the members or hang out at our club.

  I miss the camaraderie and my family, too, but I don’t miss the fear. Looking over my shoulder every minute I was away from the club, especially at school, was tiring.

  It’s unfortunate that I can’t get far enough from Arizona to rid myself of the memories from that June night that changed everything. Those nightmares will haunt me forever.

  I calm a little and head home. I can’t eat like usual, or speak to Jewel, so I stride right to the garage/workshop, feeling a need to keep my hands busy.

  My blood is boiling after I strip off my leather coat, so I yank my t-shirt over my head, leaving me in only my jeans and boots.

  I pull on some work gloves and grab some safety goggles before I gather sheets of plywood and 2x4’s. I’m setting up the jigsaw when Jewel steps inside.

  “You arrived home later today, and I missed my greeting. You’ve spoiled me stopping in the studio each day.”

  I struggle to look at her, but I do, and she’s smiling, full of light, because like my mom was, my aunt is that damn sweet. She’s straight up a hippy, too, in her long blue and purple paisley skirt and matching blue top.

  Her light brown hair is pinned up in the back and messy, and like always, there’s paint on her face and hands. I have to speak, but I’m trying to delay it.

  “Uh, I wanted to get started on these cornhole boards. I need to get my cuts and measurements more precise.”

  Jewel toes a foot out at an angle in front of her and plants a hand on her hip.

  “That’s a load of bull. Now, what’s really going on?”

  I sigh. Damn, she’s just like my momma.

  “I believe someone needed my help today, and I couldn’t give it because of this messed up situation I can’t escape.”
<
br />   “I’m guessing you mean the one that brought you to Indiana.”

  I nod and begin working again.

  “You were raised to protect those important to you.”

  “And that’s what I did. By not drawing attention to myself, I protected you, Wayne, and the rest of my family.”

  “Is this person important to you?”

  I shake my head in disbelief over the answer I have to give.

  “Yes … she is.” I look to Jewel, and she gives me that knowing smile.

  “I don’t approve of most things that MC is involved in, but one thing I do admire is that they taught you to stand up for people in trouble. They’re loyal.”

  “Yes, and I’m required to show my loyalty to some more than others.”

  “Well, that’s not the way this side of your family sees it. If this girl needs your protection, you provide it, and then you deal with what comes next. You’re upset because you know it’s the right thing to do.”

  I shake my head and grab a sheet of plywood I have propped against the work table.

  “No. Pop would string me up himself if shit went down and he found out it was over some girl.”

  “She’s not some girl.”

  I look back at her.

  “How do you know?”

  “Look at you.” She waves a hand toward me. “You’re half-dressed and sweating when it’s sixty degrees out, and from the way those neck veins are protruding, I’m afraid you’re going to claw your way out of that skin.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Hayden. You’re upset because you regret not helping her. Make it right, and you won’t feel like this.”

  Not replying, I stretch out my measuring tape and grab a pencil. Jewel steps over and takes hold of my arm, stopping me from moving.

  “We’ve taken every precaution to ensure no one finds you here. Hell, there are even forged documents that show you have a different last name.”

  I nod. “I probably am overly paranoid. I mean, all but three people back home think I’m dead and buried.” I look to her already knowing what I’ll see. She tears up like I expected.

  “I hate that your mother’s not here for you, but it would’ve killed her to be a part of that phony funeral.”

  “Um, I better get back to work.”

  She releases my bicep and pats it.

  “Right, but think about what I said. I’m gonna go in and wash up. I’ll fix something extra special for dinner tonight since I imagine you haven’t eaten.”

  “Thanks, Jewel.”

  Once she’s walked out the back door of the garage, I fish my cell phone from my pocket and shoot my friend Joey a text.

  Me: Let’s hang soon. That’s code for I’m about out of pot.

  Joey: Sure thing, man. Will Saturday work?

  Me: Come over anytime.

  Even though Joey sells it to several students, he never does it at school, so we don’t discuss it there, either. There are too many nosy people around, and I can’t afford to end up in some local newspaper for possession.

  I get back to working on the cornhole board and think about whether I should talk to Avery again. Would she be honest with me about Mr. Bradford if I confronted her about him?

  I can’t lie. The way she ignored me this week sucked. She purposely showed that asshole boyfriend of hers more attention in front of me, too.

  Although it pissed me off, I liked seeing that she had some fight left in her. She wanted to get back at me for pushing her away, and at least she’s trying to stand up to someone.

  As far as I can tell, she’s not been back to the woods since Saturday, and my pathetic ass would know because I trekked back there on purpose each evening to see.

  Avery … I’m not sure who she is on the inside, but what I thought I knew was false. She displays what she thinks the world around her needs to see, but that’s not the real Avery, and I like that it’s not.

  And as much as I shouldn’t, I also like protecting her, but I have this feeling that underneath that fragile state, she’s a fire cracker.

  A happy Avery would be a handful, and I enjoy the thought of that, too. She’d be fire but with brains, unlike the wild chicks I knew back home.

  It took every ounce of strength in me not to kiss her the other night when she touched me and stared into my eyes like she was begging for it. I can think of a few things I’d make her beg for if I had the chance.

  NO. I have to keep my hands and mouth away from her. I’ll convince her to turn in our creepy teacher and that’s it.

  I have to draw the line there because if I get a chance to really touch her, then she’d have to be mine, and that isn’t an option.

  Chapter Eleven

  Avery

  To play a consenting victim in Mr. Bradford’s vulgar, libidinous fantasy, I exiled my mind and prayed for numbness to overtake my body.

  By the time I left his classroom, I didn’t even want to cut. There were no feelings of anxiety. I was only a used, empty shell.

  I’m in the shower now, afraid to feel again because once I do, my emotions are going to collide with the memories of him groping and kissing me, and I’m going to crumble, but that’s not happening today. My safety is in the emptiness.

  Once I’ve turned off the water, I grab a towel from outside my shower. I’m drying off when I hear a noise from my bedroom. Upon sucking in a breath, I freeze, and it becomes quiet again.

  Another faint sound filters in, so I hurry and wrap the towel around me. Fisting it in my hand, I tiptoe to the door and crack it open.

  I smell his crisp cologne before I spot him. Blake is stretched out on top of my made bed with his legs crossed at the ankles. He’s playing on his phone.

  “Blake, you scared me to death. How did you get in here?”

  “With that key your parents so terribly hid on the porch.” He drops his phone and rolls onto his side. His light brown hair is still damp from the shower I’m guessing he took after track.

  He props his head up with his hand, and a slow grin spreads across his face. His blue eyes are sparkling with mischievousness, too. “Naked. I was hoping to find you this way.”

  I roll my eyes. After Mr. Bradford’s stunt this afternoon, I’ll have no patience for Blake’s sexual innuendos.

  “Roll over. I have to get some clothes out of my dresser.”

  “Or … you could drop that towel and come over here. I swear I’ll make you feel sensational first.”

  “Blake, I’m serious.”

  “So am I.” His smile is fading. “I’ve seen you in a bathing suit before, and I’ve had my hands just about everywhere beneath. It’s time we do this, Avery. Now, get your sweet ass over here.”

  He grins again, and the way he’s on his side with his head propped, I get an impressive view of his fit body. He’s too cute in his black gym shorts and blue t-shirt that matches his eyes.

  But, that doesn’t change that he can’t see me naked, and I’m most definitely not having sex with him.

  Think of something fast.

  “I was trying not to tell you this, but you’re leaving me no choice. It’s that time of the month, so will you please roll over so I can dress?”

  His eyes widen, and he makes a disgusted face.

  “Shit, Ave, is that stuff dripping down your legs?”

  God, he’s unbelievable sometimes.

  “I put a tampon in already. It should collect all the blood.”

  He covers his ears and rolls away from me toward the window.

  “Jesus, don’t talk about that shit. I’m a dude and don’t need to hear about it.”

  “Aww, wuss baby.”

  “Dammit, Ave. This isn’t funny.” He jumps to his feet and swipes his keys and phone from my bed. “I’ll text you later. I need to go home and study.”

  I guess he didn’t get a good enough run in today because he practically sprints from my room, and I can hear his tennis shoes taking my stairs two at a time to the bottom. I can’t help but giggle when
the front door slams.

  That was funny.

  ***

  I think I hear the front door open around eight. I’m upstairs in my room studying after cooking spaghetti for dinner. As much as I want to lie in my bed and feel sorry for myself, I’ve been doing things to stay busy.

  Mom calls for me from the bottom of the stairs, and my phone buzzes on my desk from a text message at the same time.

  Madison: Holy shitballs! We just saw your parents at the store. Or, I should say they caught us with everything in our grocery cart to make jello shots minus the alcohol.

  Me: Shitballs is right!

  Madison: Will they call our parents??

  Me: I doubt it. They’d worry about others in town hearing about it.

  “Avery!” Mom shouts.

  “Coming.”

  Me: Gotta go. They’re already calling for me.

  I trudge down to the foyer, and Dad passes by me without a word, carrying bags of groceries.

  “Hi. I cooked,” I say to Mom.

  “Yes, I smell it. Thank you,” she replies without looking at me. She’s rooting through her purse on a side table in the foyer and kicking off her flats. It’s too quiet. I’m screwed.

  “Something’s wrong. You’re usually talkative when you get home.”

  “We need to discuss something.” She glances toward the kitchen and bites her lip. “It’s about spring break, and you’re not going to like it. Let’s go to the kitchen first. I’m starved.”

  I sigh. Everything is set for spring break. My friends and I have been talking about spending the week in Florida since Christmas, and Madison and Carrie probably killed my chance of going.

  I stand at the kitchen counter while Mom and Dad make their plates of food. My anxiety rises as I follow them to the dining room. Dad sits at the head of the table and Mom to the side of him.

  “What’s going on?” I ask as I take a seat across from her. Dad shovels a bite of spaghetti inside his mouth and stares at me. I widen my eyes. “Is someone going to tell me what the problem is?”

  Mom coughs and sits up straight as if she’s about to give a speech.

  “While we were at the store this evening to pick up a few things, we saw Madison and Carrie. They were purchasing food to take on spring break.