Page 98 of The Scars I Bare
Now, I just had to figure out how to keep him out of their lives for good.
I didn’t sleep a wink that night.
I’d managed to get Blake out of the inn and into one of the nicest rentals on the island, no doubt causing the owner more strife than necessary for a single night. I imagined the overly privileged Blake was no picnic to have as a houseguest, but if it meant having him away from the girls, it was worth it. Still, even an island separating him from them didn’t feel like enough space.
I needed him gone. And soon.
Every time I managed to drift off to sleep, I’d have the same nightmare.
Him with that stupid smirk on his face, Cora and Lizzie by his side on the ferry as it left the dock.
And me on the shore, unable to stop them.
I would wake, covered in sweat, gasping for air, my arm aching something fierce.
It was just a dream, I’d try to remind myself.
It was just a dream.
But was it?
What if she’s not over him?
I’d heard of women who’d suffered abuse going back to the men who’d caused it.
What if that was Cora? What if she went back to him?
My head was swimming by the time I made it to the clinic that morning, coffee in hand, ready to put the finishing touches on the software program I’d set up. All the records had been entered by my own hand, saving us some money in the long run, and now, I just had to run some tests—another cost-saving measure.
But, as I walked through the back door, my mind was on anything but medical records and software systems.
It was on the woman in front of me.
She looked about as rough as I did, her hair drawn back in her usual bun as she tugged on the same cardigan she wore most days. But I could see the fatigue settling around her eyes
It seemed I wasn’t the only one who hadn’t gotten any sleep.
“Hey,” I said as those dark brown irises met mine. “I brought coffee.”
She gave me a sad smile and held up an already made cup. “Thanks, but I got in early.”
“Right. I’ll just leave this for Jake.”
A heavy, uncomfortable silence settled around us. She looked down at the old linoleum while I stared at my feet.
Finally, I got the nerve to ask, “Is he gone? I mean, did you talk to him? Is he leaving?”
She shook her head. “He’s staying a little longer.”
I stood up a bit straighter. “A little longer? How long?”
Her eyes met mine. “I don’t know, Dean. A few days maybe. I didn’t really ask.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why didn’t you ask?” I demanded.
