Page 20 of December's Ride with Scar

“Just take me home,” I say, looking out the window with my arms crossed over my chest.

He hesitates, but finally starts the truck and pulls out of the parking lot.

I was having a great day. Riding the high of getting the job and then having coffee and shopping with some women I was starting to think I could be friends with. I was seeing a life for me here in Mustang Mountain. I wanted to be here, and I thought Scar wanted me here.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

Turns out Scar didn't want me. His friends set the whole thing up, and he didn't even know until I got here. All this time he could have told me, but he didn't. He just went along with it. The poor orphan with no one. I bet he kept me around because he felt so sorry for me.

I don't want to be anyone's pity case. I worked my ass off to help my parents and even after. That's why I took on being a mail-order bride to take care of myself. Everyone back home looked at me with pity. Sure, they left slightly bigger tips thanI deserved, but it still wasn't enough, and I never wanted their sympathy or charity. If I had more time and resources, I could have done it on my own.

And I thought losing my parents was the low point in my life. Boy was I wrong.

Stupidly, I went and let my heart take charge when it came to Scar, and I fell for him. I thought we were building something real and hit the mail-order bride jackpot. And after the other night, I was really thinking he'd fallen for me too. He said he wanted to marry me, but I guess that was just him doing what was right.

Stupid me.

“Please tell me what's wrong,” he begs, pulling me from my thoughts.

“I don't want to talk about it in the car,” I say, buying myself a little more time.

He nods his head and focuses on the road.

I need a game plan and to figure out what my next steps are. Focusing on that helps calm me down.

Even though I just got the job here in Mustang Mountain, I know I can't stay here. I hate having to turn that down, but the thought of running into Scar and his friends and being another pity case is just too much.

Since I wasn't officially hired and haven’t started the process, I know I can get out of the contract. I'm not worried about it. I guess I can put myself back on the website and hope for the best. That is the easy part.

I know Bozeman has some job openings for teachers. When I was looking at the Mustang Mountain ones, I saw them. I just don't know how I will get myself to Bozeman.

Scar paid the medical bills, so I know I will owe him that money. It will take a while before I can pay it back, but I will. I can take a shift at a diner. Or hell, check into this selling my feetpictures thing I heard a girl on the bus talking about somewhere near Chicago.

Bozeman is a college town, so finding some roommates shouldn't be a problem. It's not ideal, but I can make it work.

Now that I have a plan in place, I'm feeling pretty confident. As we pull into the cabin, the nerves I felt earlier are gone and so is most of the anger.

The moment we walk into the cabin, Scar pulls me into his arms. “What’s wrong?”

I stand there for just a minute, memorizing this last moment with him before I pull away.

“Today, I found out from the girls that your friends set this all up between us and that you never wanted me. They were under the assumption that I knew and thought it was great it worked out anyway. It's fine. I don't want you to marry me because of some contract or because you feel like you have to,” I say.

As he paces the room and pulls at his hair, I continue with my plan so he can relax. “There are teaching jobs in Bozeman, and I can work nights at a restaurant to save up money to pay you back for the medical bills. See, nice clean break, no feeling guilty or pity,” I say. Then, taking a deep breath, I get ready to go to my room and start packing when he stops me.

“No,” is all he says. Stopping in my tracks, my job drops for a moment before I can speak.

“What?” That is all I'm able to get out.

“No, you are going to stay,” he says, stomping across the room, looking at me.

I can't read the look on his face, but he looks pretty serious.

“No. I'm going to leave. I can take care of myself and this way you are free of a contract you never wanted to begin with.”

The moment I stop talking, he walks over to me with purpose. When he reaches me, he drops to his knees in front ofme. Then he places his hands on my hips and rests his forehead on my belly, completely throwing me off.

He looks up at me with pain in his eyes.

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