Page 167 of Under Your Scars
Christian has been more active over the last few days. He can shower on his own now, which instantly brightened his mood. I laughed so hard I snorted when he told me to, quote, ‘get the fuck out so I can wash my nutsack in peace’. He’s been in the gym trying to get his range of motion back in his arms after not being able to lift them above his head for weeks.
Christian takes a seat next to me and scrolls through his phone. He gets about a dozen emails a day asking when he’ll be back in the office, and he simply tells them all that he will be back when he’s back. He was shot, for Christ’s sake, but they’re acting like he had a cold or something.
Christian sips my lemonade, humming at the taste before going back to mindlessly scrolling. I open the last letter. Well, not a letter. It’s a big envelope. Plain white. The return address is something random in Meridian City that doesn’t ring any bells. I think it might be on the East Side, but I’m not sure. Postmarked two days ago. The handwriting is extremely neat, almost like someone traced a font from a computer. Red ballpoint ink. Addressed to me directly.
I open the ridiculously well-taped envelope and pull out a single thick piece of paper. It’s a glossy black and white photo of Christian’s mugshot from the night he broke Neil Hayden’s arm. I recognize the date. My stomach turns over. Bile rises in my throat.
Because it’s not just his mugshot.
In the center of his forehead, in red marker, a bullseye is sketched onto the paper.
Christian’s eyes flicker to me and then he stiffens when he notices the horrified look in my eyes. “What is it?”
I hand him the photo, and he looks at it for a long time. His jaw tightens and he looks at me through the fire burning in his eyes. “This was addressed directly to you?”
I nod silently. He takes a deep breath, and he doesn’t have to say anything for me to know what he’s thinking.
He’s tired of me ending up in the middle of things.
Frankly, so am I. I stand up and take Christian’s hand in mine, tugging him out of the room and away from Edwin and Caroline so we can talk privately. He crumples the paper and throws it into the fireplace.
When we’re alone, I cup his face in my hands and press our foreheads together. “Tell me what’s going on in your head.”
“I’m going to burn this fucking world to the ground just to get some goddamn peace.”
I nod, looking up at him from under my lashes. “Let’s burn it together.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, Christian pins me to the wall and kisses me savagely until our world falls into frenzied, passionate chaos.
Midway into our intense make-out session, I hear footsteps approach. Gavin clears his throat, looking away slightly as Christian adjusts himself in his sweatpants.
“This better be important,” Christian warns.
Gavin meets Christian’s eyes and then his gaze falls to me. “Your parents are here.”
“What?” I ask, completely shocked. Not that I wouldn’t be happy to see my mother, but Gavin saidparents. Plural. As in, my father is here, too. As I try to collect my thoughts, I see my parents at the end of the corridor. My mother has her signature bright smile painting her features, and my father has his signature scowl.
If you look up the term ‘resting bitch face’ in the dictionary, all it has is a picture of Elliot Young.
My mother hugs me and gives me a kiss on the cheek before greeting Christian with a hug as well. It’s cautious and full of concern. They exchange an unknown look.
She holds out her arms in front of her as if expecting a gift. “Now where’s my grandbaby?”
I giggle and as we all turn towards the study, a tiny head of blonde hair launches itself into my mother’s arms at the speed of light.
“Hi grandma! Look!” Caroline gives my mother a big smile to show that she’s missing one of her front teeth.
She lost her first tooth two days ago. That night, the tooth fairy, also known as Christian, put a one-hundred-dollar bill under her pillow, a cupcake on her nightstand, and a custom Swarovski-crystal Lamborghini Sian electric car at her bedside.
Howdid Christian find a Swarovski-crystal Lamborghini Sian electric car in less than 12 hours? It’s as he once said, never underestimate the power of a black American Express.
That electric car is currently at the bottom of the pool because Caroline didn’t know how to turn it off once she grew tired of it. She stepped out, and there it went, right into the deep end.
The tooth fairy doesn’t know that part yet, and Caroline made me promise not to tell.
After my mom gushes over Caroline’s missing tooth, she looks up at my father with a curious gaze. To my surprise, he squats down and gives her a gentle smile. To ease into this conversation, I squat down to her height with them and lightly tap her nose.
“This is your grandpa,” I explain. She blinks at my father, studying him, and then, because she’s adorable and trusting, she leaves my mother’s arms and goes straight into his to hug him. My father wraps his arms around her as if it’s the first time he’s ever hugged a child, and something strange flickers across his eyes. Gone as quick as it came.
