Chapter Four
Noble
It was almost nine in the morning when I woke up. Friday nights at Crowned fucked up my schedule, but they were worth it.
Today, I had a special appointment with a plastic surgeon. I’d found one in the city that surprisingly had weekend hours. Only two appointments per Saturday, so it had been months of waiting to get in.
I hated these. But I had to try.
Not bothering to eat breakfast, I donned jogging pants and a hoodie. Something I could pull over my head while going to the doctor.
If I could’ve found a surgeon who would meet me at night, I would’ve paid premium price, more premium than I was about to pay.
There was a good chance this doctor would say what all the others had. I wasn’t stupid. There wasn’t one single percent of a chance that I would ever look like I did before.
One designer told me I had a once-in-a-lifetime look.
The fire took that all from me.
I forced my eyes downward during the examination.
The doctor asked me to go over the accident as though any detail about how my partner wrecked us into a hair salon made any difference in whether or not he could improve my face.
He had so many mirrors in his office, I wanted to scream.
Scream at home. Scream at life. Scream at my ex. Especially my ex.
I returned home more defeated than ever. That had been my last chance. My Hail Mary.
“I’m sorry, Noble. The scars are too extensive and near nerves. If I operated, it would do more harm than good. We can give you some things to improve the appearance of the scars but those will take time, and I’m assuming you’ve already exhausted those options. We can give you more pain—”
“No more painkillers,” I responded, not letting him finish. “They made me feel like shit. But thanks.” Also, they weren’t very effective on shifters.
He tried to go on, but I cut him off. “It’s fine. Thank you for your time.”
When I got to the receptionist at the front, I learned there was no charge for the visit.
I laughed to myself. I wasn’t even worth the charge.
Now, I had nothing. Not a stitch of hope.
Oh well. It was just my face. That was what my parents told me. I was beautiful on the inside too. Someone would see my goodness and my soul.
The worst one? Your mate won’t care what you look like. They will love you despite the scars.
I didn’t want my mate, my alpha to love me despite my face, my burns. I wanted them to love me with the burns. See my scars. Not ignore them or pretend they didn’t exist. Because they did. They were a part of my life and, that day of the wreck, a part of me died.
The self-centered one. The one who was living to impress others. The one who had no skills beyond skating by on my looks.
I was no longer a shell. I was real.
At my apartment, I managed a few more hours of sleep and came down the stairs. Dave had a smile for me, and I brought Wendy’s carrot cake along for a night breakfast. Breakfast dinner? Working nights was weird.
“Everything okay?” Dave asked. He’d gotten used to me over the few months I’d worked here.
Not only was I sometimes grumpy for no damned reason at all.
There were days when the pain was hard to bear.
My scars sometimes stung and pricked like no time had passed at all.
My scars extended down one side of my neck and part of my shoulder.
Muscles were torn there as well and, despite extensive physical therapy, I would never be the same.
Some nights, every inch of my body ached.
“I’m okay.” I made my way to the coffeepot and brewed a fresh carafe. It was impressive how many people in the city drank coffee, and a ton of them came in after regular work hours. Just the sound of the percolating caffeine began to wake me up.
“You should try the cream Wendy sent you. Or the other ointments.”
“I will,” I lied. I had tried them. Nothing really worked. I’d tried everything on the market. Off market. From other countries. There was even a time when I applied salves and creams and ointments from the farm supply shops.
The strong stuff for horses. Some of it took the edge off, but it only lasted an hour or so and I was back to feeling like shit and smelled like mint and menthol, and they became not worth it over time.
“Okay. I’m going home. See you tomorrow, Noble.”
I didn’t tell him about the surgeon. There was no point, just as there was no point in ever trying to see another one.
This was my life.
Since the night was slow, I cleaned up the shelves and restocked everything. I used to hate that part, but now it was kind of fun, straightening up and making the store presentable.
It was a mess by the next night, but satisfying in the moment.
The electronic bell rang, letting me know someone had come in and, with it, the sounds of a group of young men.
I strolled over to the register after hearing the crinkle of grabbing bags of chips and the drink coolers slamming shut. I could almost make out what drink cooler they were in by the shutting of the door alone.
“Whoa!” one of them exclaimed as they all piled their bags and bottles onto the counter. “Didn’t know we were in a Marvel movie.”
Not original. I sighed and began ringing things up, scanning barcodes.
“Dude, who hurt you?” another said. It made the first one laugh.
“Thirty-seven fourteen,” I said and bagged their things up. I was very good at ignoring things like this. They didn’t happen as often as I thought they would in my mind, but there were exceptions.
“We should get it for free for having to look at your face.”
“Thirty-seven fourteen.” I let my wolf speak through me a bit. They stepped back. I was an omega but my wolf was fierce.
“Bruh, pay him before his skin peels off or something. Let’s go. I’m gonna have nightmares.”
With a tap of a credit card I assumed wasn’t his, they left, laughing and fake screaming in terror.
They were sixteen or seventeen, maybe. I shouldn’t let it get to me. Their jeering had no impact on my life or paying my bills but, like my scars, sometimes it stung more than others.