Page 92 of The Scars I Bare
Before.
“So, about that ramen. Turns out, I’m a liar. Pretty sure I ran out a while ago,” he said, cozying up to me on the couch.
I let out a laugh as I curled up next to him.
“It’s fine. I’m actually not that hungry,” I said.
His eyebrow rose as he looked at me. “That’s a lie.”
“Okay, I’m starving. But I want to sit and talk for a while. Tell me about some of this stuff,” I said, motioning to his living room.
“Like what?” he asked, our heads touching as we snuggled underneath the warm blankets.
“Like…” I said, looking around, trying to pick just one.
There were so many options. From the anchor in the corner that looked like it weighed more than a ton to the photos on the coffee table in front of me.
“What about that?” I said, pointing to an old map, one of many lining the walls of his living room.
A warm smile spread across his face. “That,” he said, “is a nautical map. An old one, too. My dad used to collect them—or so I was told.” He grabbed my hand, and using my index finger as a guide, he made a long trail in the air, following the landmass on the wall. “See Hatteras there?” he said, pointing to the very tip of the inlet. “And how it stops, and just over the sound is Ocracoke?”
“It’s beautiful,” I said, his fingers lacing with mine. “You miss it, don’t you?” I asked. “The ocean? Fishing? You never really talk about it.”
He grew silent as I stared up at that map, wondering how much of that water he’d touched in his lifetime.Would he ever again?
“Yes,” he finally answered. “But I don’t know how to go back. I don’t know how to look out at the water and feel anything but anger. And fear. That night we were on the boat? It was the first time I’d even been close. The fact that it was anchored was the only reason I was able to go through with it.”
I rested my head on his shoulder, still staring at that map, thinking of all the times I’d caught him looking out onto the sea with such longing in his eyes. He’d lost his trust out on that ocean when that ferryboat tried to take his life.
We just had to find it once more.
“What about that?” I said, deciding a change in subject might be good as I moved toward a stack of composition notebooks on the corner desk.
“Ah”—he grinned—“if you’re looking for something to help you sleep—”
I leaned in closer. “Wait a minute,” I said. “You had a notebook like that when you were in the hospital. You said it was for your recovery. Don’t tell me you’re still writing in them.”
He smiled. “Almost every day.”
I placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. “You really are messed up.”
He laughed. “That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”
I got up, taking one of the warm blankets with me. I felt his eyes on me as I walked across the room toward the desk. Reaching down, I lifted the first notebook off the stack. “Can I read them, or are they off-limits?”
I felt his breath against my neck.
I hadn’t even heard him move.
“Nothing is off-limits to you, Cora,” he said. “But don’t start with this one.” He reached into a drawer and shuffled through it, pulling one from the back. “Here,” he said, but instead of giving it to me, he set it down on the desk. “But read it later.”
“Why?” I asked, turning to look up at him.
A quick grin pulled at his mouth. “Because I just remembered we have a serious debate to solve.”
“What’s that?”
He pulled off his blanket and wrapped it around me, not in the least bit shy about his nakedness. Walking boldly into the kitchen, he opened the freezer, making me all the more confused as he took out a pint of ice cream and held it out in front of him.
