Page 98 of Pretty Heartache

My hands are covered in dirt as I place the last handful of soil around the pink flowers in the far corner. My knees are pressed into the cold ground when I glance over my shoulder and look up at Micah’s bedroom window. He’s standing in front of it, watching himself get dressed in the new full-length mirror he bought. Although we haven’t been sleeping in his bedroom, he still keeps all of his clothes in his closet. Today is his first day back to work, and I smile, watching him take pride in his appearance.

Sweat sticks to the back of my neck despite the cool early fall weather settling in. We’re in the strange period where there’s a thirty-degree swing between morning and afternoon. I’ve shoved the sleeves of my shirt up my arms to allow the warm sun to beat down on my skin.

Once I’m finished with the garden box, I take a few seconds to admire my work before heading upstairs to shower.

After washing away all the dirt and sweat in the spare bathroom, I wrap a towel around my chest and tiptoe down the hallway to my bedroom, only to stop as I pass Micah’s room. He isn’t standing in front of the mirror any longer, and the scent of coffee permeates the house.

I pause in front of the doorway and peek in. My chest stills and I shove the memories of that night away. The room is drastically different than it was before. The curtains are pulled back, allowing the warm sun to pour into the room. The old mirror has been replaced with a more modern one with a thin, black frame, untouched and free of damage. It has no story to tell.

I step inside Micah’s bedroom, the floor creaking underfoot. Slowly, I cross the room and walk toward the mirror. Themoment I see my foot in the reflection, I come to a screeching halt. My breath catches in my throat, and I’m overcome with emotion.

Up until the night Maddox cut my face I hadn’t looked in the mirror. I never even looked in one after having my stitches removed. The doctor told me there would be a faint scar, and I knew Maddox had accomplished what he set out to do.

Ruin my career.

He saw it as payback for standing up for myself and having the power to walk away from him.

Facing myself meant facing the truth. There were no masks for me to hide behind anymore. I knew if I were to see the woman I’d become, I wouldn’t recognize her, and the thought of facing the new me was a terrifying notion—one I still haven’t felt strong enough to deal with.

But something about the way the sun shines a light on the bed Micah and I sleep in and the reflection in the mirror being new gives me the courage to keep going. I think back to the pink flowers flourishing in the garden, like the one tattooed across my ribs.

Rebirth.

I close the remaining gap between the mirror and me. My breath catches when I see myself for the first time.

My hair is longer than I remember it being, and my eyes shimmer in the sunlight. The cut I’d felt on my bottom lip has disappeared. The bruises painted over my collarbones have faded to a faint yellow hue.

When my eyes drop to the scar on my right cheek, tears immediately prick the backs of my eyes. My chin trembles, seeing the three-inch scar stretching at the perfect angle from my ear to my mouth.

I lift my hand and ghost it along the raised skin.

Maddox got what he wanted. There’s no way I’ll ever be able to model again. Not if this scar remains. But as my fingers trace the mark, and tears spill over my lashes, I realize he wanted more than for me to lose my career. He wanted to leave a lasting impression. He wanted me to look in the mirror and think of him every time I see myself.

He wanted me to never forget.

Even now, as he waits in jail for his trial to begin.

Unsteady, my fingers tremble across my skin, and I feel myself caving in. My vision turns watery and more tears stream down my cheek. Inhaling a sharp breath, my eyes dart up, catching Micah standing behind me.

“Hey,” he whispers, touching the back of my arm.

I blink and sniff, clutching onto the towel wrapped around my chest. “I don’t know why I came in here.” I look at him once more before stepping away.

He stops me, his hand gently wrapping around my arm. I spin around to face him, with my chest pressed against him. He’s dressed in his signature blue suit, with a pale blue shirt. His blue tie hangs loose around his neck, undone.

“Wait,” he whispers, tracing his fingers along the length of my face. “Can I ask you something?”

I tuck in my bottom lip and bite down, unsure what he’s going to ask. I’m glad I was able to finally face my own reflection, but overlooking the scar that now serves as a constant reminder of the past is proving difficult to bear.

When I look up, though, all my worries fade the second I meet those same kind, blue-gray eyes I’ve fallen in love with.

“Yes,” I whisper back.

“When you were looking at yourself, what did you see?”

“Micah.” I drop my gaze, clutching onto my towel tighter.

I can’t answer him. I can’t put into words how I feel. At my core, I know I love myself and the way Micah makes me feel.He never makes me feel less than. He never puts me down, constantly reminding me how beautiful I am. But a piece of something buried deep in my chest is fractured by pain, loss, and tragedy, and that pain may never completely disappear. It will forever live in me, attaching itself to me, becoming a part of me.

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