Page 6 of These Jagged Edges

Maddox, however, would ask questions that I was in no way ready to answer. I buried that part of my life. The only proof I had lived that life were the scars that remained.

“I own you, fucking own you, Petal, and these scars are my proof.”

"Coffee to go."

With a loud yelp, I jump away from the counter, clutching my heart. Lost in my thoughts, I never even heard the man approaching.

Today he's in black running shorts that sit just above the knees showing a peep of his thick muscular thighs, a loose black muscle shirt with The Boxing Den logo printed on it, and a pair of black-rimmed glasses sits on his face—looking every bit of an angry Clark Kent in the flesh.

"W-what?" I stammer.

"Coffee." His stoic expression never wavers, and he doesn't apologize for scaring me.

Unable to take his intense gaze much more, I quickly pour hiscoffee and sit it on the counter in front of him. He stares between it and my shaking hands. I brace myself, ready for him to bring up the other night, scrambling to come up with a plausible excuse.

"Come to the gym.” Not ask. Demands.

"Why?" I deadpan, expecting him to comment on my weight. Trent made me work out five days a week to keep a somewhat slim figure, and I fucking hated it. Trent prepared all my food. I had a list of what I could and could not eat. I ate the same dinner for years: boiled chicken breast, steamed broccoli, and a side salad of lettuce and tomatoes, no dressing allowed.

Whoever the fuck thought to boil a chicken breast and eat it was off their rocker. If I asked for something else, I'd get a belting. If we went to dinner with his friends, I had to tell them I ate a big lunch and was still full. Somedays I only ate breakfast, I'm never going back to that life. I love food and I'll eat what I want, whenever I want, and if you don’t like that you can go fuck yourself.

"For that." He points at my shaking hands.

Slipping my mask in place, I laugh. "Oh, that's nothing! I didn't sleep much last night and am just a little jumpy today."

"Don't do that." The harsh tone of his voice filling the empty diner.

"Do what?" I ask, my voice unsteady as I slowly back away from the hard-edged man and his undeniable allure.

"Try to hide from me," he deadpans, his gaze piercing through me. "You can't hide from me, Evie Taylor, because I fuckingseeyou."

With that he grabs his coffee and storms out of the diner. The man just took the mask I worked years to make and mold to perfection and stomped it into a thousand pieces. Leaving me absolutely rattled.

Maddox's wordsstayed with me all night. I tossed and turned, turning them all over in my head. If he could see through me so effortlessly, could everyone else? Could everyone see how pathetic I really was? Was it so easy?

"Mama! We’re out of milk!" I hear Bash bellows from the living room. I didn't even realize the little sneak had woken up. I look at my phone. It's after seven o'clock.

While I get up, Charlie pokes his head from the pile of covers on the bed. "It's Saturday, Mama," he says groggily.

"I know, baby. You can sleep a little longer if you want."

Yawning, he disappears back under the covers. The boy loves his sleep, unlike his brother, who never sleeps past seven o'clock, even on weekends. Hearing Bash rummaging in the kitchen, I set off to see what he is in the mood for breakfast.

Walking to the kitchen, I notice a mixing bowl full of cereal, the dog’s bowl full of cereal, and Bash and the dog both standing in front of the open refrigerator as if expecting milk to appear magically.

"Sebastian James, why on earth does the dog have a full bowl of cereal?" I ask while kissing his cheek.

"Well, he told me he was tired of that nasty dog food and wanted some cereal."

"How do you know the dog food is nasty?" I asked him, trying my hardest to stifle a laugh.

"Mellon Collie dared me to try it one time." He looks at the dog as if daring it to tell me a different story. Laughing, I go about making myself some coffee. "How about we head to town and grab some donuts from Sophie’s after the cereal is cleaned up and the dog has his own food for breakfast?"

"YES!" he shouts, hugging me tightly while jumping up and down.

"Go get sleepyhead up, and we'll get ready to go." Flashing a gappy smile, he races off to wake his brotherup.

One dozen donuts later,we make our way through the grocery store. After a while, I have this nagging feeling that I'm being watched. I glance over my shoulder eyeing the people around me skeptically. Not noticing anyone suspicious, I make sure the boys both still have a hand on the buggy before continuing my shopping. A few minutes later, it happens again. Without alarming the boys, I ease the taser from its case in my purse and hold it tightly in my hand.

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