Page 151 of Bossy Hero

Shep hands Mia the third page. “Might as well get them all.”

The final message Tomer reads is cryptic enough to make a lead brick sink in my gut.

“This list must be exposed. Once you do, they’ll come back to finish the job. Next time, they won’t miss. Protect your loved ones. They know you’re getting close, and they’re watching you all.”

Chapter26

Burning the night oil

Maddie

Wounds should be concealed. That’s what I was raised to believe.

All my bruises, cuts, stitches, and welts are shameful and grotesque. No one wants to see them. Not the physical nor the emotional scars. I don’t even want to see them, so why would I force innocent bystanders to view my disfigurement? Ultimately, all facets of my suffering are mine to bear.

And mine alone.

When I was with Travis, my flesh was often marred with the tangible proof of the abuse. If I made the mistake of showing my battered face in public, people would stare and talk about me behind my back. There was never enough makeup to hide what he did to me.

As truth tends to do, my damage wouldalwaysshine through.

Hiding the abuse also stopped the police from asking too many questions. That never ended well for me. Ask any battered woman about the price they’d have to pay when the cops came after a neighbor made an ill-advised phone call. Hearts in the right place or not, the abuser isn’t the one who suffers.

There are other benefits to hiding, though. Internal ones.

Concealment enables me to present myself to the world as the person I wish I was. A woman comfortable in her skin. Someone who feels worthy of love that doesn’t come in the form of fists.

The truth is... I’ve spent most of my life putting on a show.

Probably could have been a gifted actress if I’d chosen a different path. In many ways, I’m still pretending to be something I’m not. Maybe I always will be.

The damage on the inside is far worse than what my flesh ever revealed. Until Alan, I thought I had done a decent job of hiding that too.

For so many reasons, hiding was always for the best.

Always.

At some point, I stopped trying to hide my physical scars.

So what if my jawline has a jagged bit of raised skin from a broken bottle? So what if my eyes look uneven because of a formerly shattered eye socket? I learned to draw my eyeliner to balance it out. Occasionally, I still do. It’s habit.

But theurgeto do it isn’t there anymore.

I’m done hiding what happened to me.

Mostly.

My emotional wounds are a different story. Fortunately, the more I embrace Alan’s love, the more I’m able to deal with them. Being so close to two of my children and the rest of the Redleg family every day adds to my desire to be therealMadeline.

Nonetheless... I wish with all my might I could hide this most recent injury. The pain from the gunshot wound was bad enough. What remains on the surface is worse.

I hate it.

Not because of vanity. And not out of shame or fear that the cops will be called.

I long to conceal my still-healing wound because of how it affects everyone around me. The way it’s upended my life and the lives of all the people I love. And for how it has tainted Alan’s every waking moment since the night I was shot.

The pain reflected in his eyes each time he sees it nearly breaks me. Wearing sleeveless tops is out of the question for a long while. And if he accidentally grazes it while holding me? Forget it. The regret and anguish that settles onto his shoulders in those moments is palpable. It’s so profound that it weighs me down too.

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