Page 22 of Q: Satan's Fury MC

“Please tell me you aren’t wearing that to the party.”

“What?” I looked down at my plaid flannel top and straight-leg jeans, and while it wasn’t exactly sexy, I thought I looked pretty good. “This is perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, if you’re trying to look like a lumberjack.” Caroline marched over to my closet, and after a few minutes of sifting through my clothes, she pulled out an old tank top. “This would look so hot on you. Wear your hair down with a little makeup, and you’re ready to go.”

“I’m not wearing that.” My throat tightened at the thought of anyone seeing my scars. “It’s too cold.”

“It’s a bonfire, Jules. You’ll be plenty warm.” She walked over to me and held the top up to my chest. “You gotta show off those assets, girl. You’ll have all the guys drooling over you.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“It’s true!” She playfully bumped her hip against mine. “You’re one hot momma.”

“Ha! No, I’m not! I’m the farthest thing from hot.”

“You’re crazy! You’re absolutely gorgeous.” She sounded so sincere as she said, “How can you not know that?”

“I guess you can say it’s been ingrained in me.”

“Well, that’s just ridiculous. You’re smoking hot.” She smiled as she held up the tank top and said, “You’d know that if you’d just take a little risk now and then.”

“I can’t wear that top, Caroline. I won’t.”

“But why?”

I don’t know what came over me, but I started unbuttoning my flannel. Once I got midway down, I slipped it down over my shoulder, revealing the ridged scars on my back. As soon as she saw them, Caroline gasped, “Oh, my God, Jules. What happened?”

“My father happened.” I pulled my shirt up as I told her, “He wasn’t exactly a good man.”

“He did that to you?”

“Yeah, I’m afraid so.” I’d already told her some of the horror stories about James and how I’d moved here to get away from him. I hadn’t planned on ever telling her about my father, but that didn’t stop me from saying, “He had a bit of a temper and liked to take it out on my mother and me.”

“Oh, girl. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“Nothing for you to be sorry about. There’s no way you could’ve known.”

“Well, I feel terrible. I wish you would’ve told me sooner.” She walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Did it happen often?”

“It happened enough.” I don’t know what it was about Caroline, but I felt like I could open up to her without judgment or ridicule—something I desperately needed. I hadn’t shared my past with anyone, and it felt good to tell her, “But over time, I learned to take myself out of the moment. I’d dream of the day I’d be able to get away from him, and I’d finally be free.”

“When did you get away?”

“I was almost fifteen.” My stomach turned as I told her, “I left right after the night he left these scars.”

“Oh, God. What happened?”

“He was pissed that I’d left my makeup on the bathroom sink. It was something I’d done a million times, but on this night, it set him off. He got so mad so fast.” My blood ran cold when I thought about the rage in his eyes. I knew something bad was coming, but I had no idea how bad. “For whatever reason, he decided to trade his leather belt for an extension cord which wouldn’t have been so bad if I wasn’t wearing my pajamas. The fabric was thin, and it went on for over an hour.”

“Oh, Jules. I can’t imagine how terrible that must’ve been.”

“It was pretty bad. My mother completely freaked out when she saw what he’d done. She hated to see me go but knew if I stayed, he’d just hurt me again. So, she helped me pack up my things, and I moved in with my grandmother.”

“Thank goodness!”

“Yeah, things were much better there.” I could still remember how good it felt to be out of my parents’ house and away from my father. For the first time in my life, I felt safe and loved—sadly, it didn’t last. I considered telling her about James, but now was not the time. She was eager to get to the party, so I told her, “Now, enough of the dad talk. We have a party to get ready for.”

“Yes, we most certainly do.”

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