Page 80 of The Devil's Scars

She crossed her arms, and he recognized this as her go-to defensive posture. He gentled now, seeing no real need to beat her over the head with the point anymore; he was pretty damn sure that Zoe got the point. Now it was all about getting her to admit it, mostly to herself.

“Zoe. C’mon. Talk to me, OK? I know and love you, and I may not shout about it, but I know and love Scars. I trust him with my fuckin’ life, and I trust him with yours and Keira’s, too. Why can’t you just give the man a chance?”

She bit her lip, still thinking about that night that had taken Scars’ and Sam’s parents so horribly. God, his parents had literally blown up, right in front of those poor, horrified kids. What in actual hell did that do to a person?

Well, in Sam’s case, it had propelled him towards caring for others, fighting to save others, sending people home from tragedy when his own parents hadn’t. And Scars? It had made him fiercely protective, focused, driven to succeed. He’d done everything that he’d done for financial security, for acceptance, for a place in a family after losing most of his.

And she’d judged him from the beginning, just because of his cut. She’d presumed to know him, just because of that damn MC label attached to him, and her own prejudices about that label. She’d belittled and berated him, just because he had dared to offer her something real and honest and true. He’d offered her who he was, and she’d treated that astonishing gift cheap.

And now she’d lost him. She’d lost a good man. The best man. The only man for her.

One last chance, that’s all I ask. One last chance, God, and I swear, I won’t screw it up this time.

“Ahhhh, baby girl,” Wolf said gently, knowing what she was thinking. “Go talk to him. Tell him that I’ve left for Colorado Springs without him. He can pay his respects to our ex-President’s widow later this week.”

“Is that where you guys are going today?” she faltered. “To – visit a widow?”

“Yeah. We need to go every year on the anniversary of Wheels Jordan’s death. He was a bastard and a prick, but protocol is protocol, baby girl. I’ll be gone overnight, back tomorrow, and so you go and talk to Scars now. Before he heads over to the club to meet me.”

“Do you think – you think he’ll listen to me?”

“Yes,” Wolf said simply. “He will.”

“Why would he?” she asked, the desperation clear in her voice. “After everything I’ve said and done?”

“Because,” Wolf said. “That’s who Scars Innis is, in his heart. That’s exactly who he is. Don’t you know that yet, Zoe?”

And suddenly Zoe realized – fully and for the first time and in this moment – that she did know it.

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