Chapter 9 Scarlett #2
The house is gorgeous. I didn’t get a chance to soak it in the last time I was here.
Large exposed oak beams line the ceiling, drawing my eyes to the stone wall that houses a fireplace.
It’s warm and inviting, and so him. It's also currently swimming with the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen.
Like, honestly, there isn’t a single one here who doesn’t look like a four-course meal.
I’m greeted by a high-pitched squeal and arms being thrown around my neck. “I don’t know why I didn’t think to ask you to come when I was here last time,” Hannah squeals from behind me
I turn my head, looking at her over my shoulder. “I’m not exactly a people person.”
She gives me a soft smile, one that only comes with seeing more than she should. Nana used to give me the same look. “I don’t buy that for half a second.” She winks before skipping away to the island that’s stacked with enough food to feed an army.
“Guys, this is Lettie,” Lucas yells, effectively freezing most of the people in the house with the deep timbre of his voice. Not gonna lie, it’s freaking hot.
“Lettie, these are my teammates, Brett Wilson, Nate Andrews, our Captain, Maverick Reed, and you already know Wilder and Sammy.” He leans down, “unfortunately,” he whispers in my ear.
“And you all go by your last names, too?” I get a chorus of yesses in various forms before they jump back into piling up their plates.
He points to a broody man in the corner. “That would be Tate, Wilder’s little brother.” Ah, that would explain why he looks so familiar. He and his brother have the exact same shade of blue in their eyes.
“We call him Baby Wilder. He sucks most of the time,” Abby yells, making the man’s eyes narrow on the side of her face. She blows him a kiss, winking before she turns toward Hannah, who mouths, “Sorry.” In his direction.
Lucas leans down so he can whisper in my ear, “They hate each other, well, they say they do. I don’t know that I buy that.”
My eyes slide to his, he shrugs, and then I look back to Tate. His eyes are still on Abby, and I totally see it. They don’t hate each other at all.
Lucas grabs two waters and slides one across the island to me.
I take a sip before he disappears for a second, only to make me jump when his voice comes from behind me.
“Are you still a mozzarella stick fan?” His warm breath caresses my ear, head resting cautiously on my shoulder, as if he’s testing just how much he can get away with.
I don’t remember the last time anyone, let alone a man, asked me if I still liked something.
Maybe that’s why I cling so tightly to my independence, or why I have such a hard time believing people actually want to be friends with me.
It’s only ever been a two-way street with Nana and the man behind me.
I nod, a small smile tugging at my lips. We used to devour mozzarella sticks to the point that Nana would have to take them away. In fact, the last summer we spent together, she made us go on a scavenger hunt for them. I can’t help the little laugh that escapes me at the thought.
“What?” he asks as he moves to my side.
“Remember when she made us go look for them? She had us running all over the ranch, only to find out they were still in the oven.”
His eyes glaze over as he thinks for a second. Slowly, a wide smile stretches his face, causing his eyes to crease at the corners. “She loved sending us on endless hunts the last summer we were here, didn’t she?”
His whole face lights up as he puts his next thought in air quotes.
“Said they were good exercise for the body and the mind.” He chuckles as he picks up a plate and loads it up with mozzarella sticks, a cucumber salad, and some type of pasta.
All the things I loved to eat here because my mom wouldn’t let me have them at home.
I wonder if he still eats all these things because they’re guilty pleasures of his, or because he was hoping I’d be here.
Really? You’re not that important, Scarlett.
The thought threatens to sour my mood, but before it can pull me any deeper, he asks. “You okay?” He hands me a plate that looks fit for a teenage boy, and my eyes widen as I feel the weight of it in my hands.
“What? I like a girl who can eat, plus you haven’t had dinner. Probably skipped lunch, too.”
I don’t know what kind of twilight zone I’ve fallen into, but my heart swells a bit.
Maybe it’s the fact that a man cares enough to put food, a lot of it, on a plate for me.
Only to hand it over with a shrug, and sheer satisfaction that he could provide something for me.
“Thanks,” I choke out, hurrying to the chair the furthest away from everyone else.
Of course, that doesn’t last long because Reed takes the spot on my right, followed by Wilson on my left.
I would have thought Lucas would riot, but as soon as he sees who's next to me, he simply smiles, raising a questioning eyebrow, silently checking in like he used to. I nod as I take a bite of a mozzarella stick, fighting the urge to groan like a deranged animal.
It’s one of the kinds that has the perfect breading-to-cheese ratio, and it stretches like a spider web as I pull it away from my lips. He throws a knowing wink in my direction before sitting on the couch between Hannah and Abby.
Minutes pass before Reed leans over and asks, “Do you know what you just got yourself into?”
I look at him through the corner of my eye, shaking my head as I finish my bite. “Nope.”
His soft chuckle pulls Lucas's attention. Reed leans in closer, whispering so only I can hear him. “Better get used to us, 'cause I don’t think he’s letting you leave. Plus, you’ve got Hannah on your side, meaning Abby won’t be far behind.
It’s difficult to say no to any of them by themselves.
Put the three of them together, it’s damn near impossible. ”
I swallow hard, my instincts yelling that there’s always a catch, that their friendship would be transactional. Just like all my other “friendships” were.
I tune out the chatter of the room. Sammy gestures wildly, telling some story, but I hear nothing. Well, not until they all turn to look at me. “What?” I ask, twirling the end of my braid.
“What’s your story?” Abby asks, she leans back against Lucas. He shifts so she’s leaning on the outside of his arm, not his chest, a move that makes butterflies tickle my rib cage. Even if the move wasn’t intentionally made for my benefit.
My arms cross over my chest, and I can feel the bricks falling back into place, creating a protective wall that keeps me safely hidden from their questions. “Not much to tell.” I clip, hoping they’ll move on.
They don’t, and Hannah quickly jumps in. “Listen, it can’t be any worse than your dad telling you you’ll never be good enough while he’s on his literal deathbed.”
Her husband sits up straighter in his spot in a chair across the coffee table from her. “Come on, Kitten. You know that’s not true.”
Her eyes shine, filled with fresh tears, as she smiles at him. I turn my focus to Lucas and find him already looking at me.
Dangerous territory, Scarlett.
There are too many eyes, I feel like I’m under a microscope. My chest goes tight, like I’m sixteen again and every feeling is a liability I can’t afford. “I was promised food, not an interrogation.” My nails dig into my arms. “Think I’ll head home now.”
Lucas’s eyes bulge before he’s off the couch so fast, Abby falls into Hannah. “No, it’s okay. You don’t have to say anything, just… stay. Please.” His eyes plead with mine. When he sees I have no intention of changing my mind, his shoulders drop. “It’s dark. Can I at least walk you home?”
I take a step toward him, now angry that he’s put me in a position that makes me look like a defiant asshole. “I can take care of myself.”
I don’t know how long we stand there, locked in a battle of wills, before a loud, slow clap pulls us from our stare off. We both turn to see Abby with an unamused look on her face. “As fun as it is to stand here in all this… tension,”
I scoff as I take a step away from him, my pulse racing so fast I’m sure they can see it from Mars. “There’s no tension,” I grind out, heat creeping up my cheeks. I hate that I don’t hate that insinuation. “You need your eyes checked.”
As soon as I pull the door open, Lucas rasps, “Please.”
I freeze, turning to look at him over my shoulder, but only for a second.
I need quiet, away from inquiring minds.
I hate attention on a good day, but when they asked about my life, especially while I’m in the middle of trying to figure it out myself, I felt like a cornered animal.
Overwhelmed in a way that had their voices raising an octave and melding together.
A dangerous mix that flips the switch, heating my blood to a slow boil, increasing with every passing second until I erupt, skin itching, teeth clenching, seconds away from saying something I’d regret.
So I do what I do best, let the words of my father wash over me. Having emotions makes you weak. Anger, sadness, fear, lock it down. The world can’t hurt you if you don’t show them your cards. And now more than ever, I hate that I’m what he made me.
Because it was all a bald-faced lie. It doesn’t make you weak.
It makes you human, gives you the strength to feel and do what’s right for you.
But he didn’t want that. He knew I’d be too much for him to control if he didn’t break me first. If he didn’t convince me that all the parts of myself I loved most were what was going to hold me back in life.
My life would have looked so different if I were brave enough to stay true to myself. But, I guess it’s time to try.
I take a slow breath, put one foot in front of the other, letting the truth settle into my bones. The weight of it isn’t crushing, it’s clarifying. For the first time in a long time, even though I’m running, I feel a flicker of something I thought was long gone. Possibility.
Sure, the past won't vanish, but here, maybe even with this group of Lucas’s friends, I feel like maybe I can move forward without apologizing for who I am. Or maybe, who I’m not.
Maybe that’s enough to start.