Trouble(79)

It set off another episode which sent me running to a convenience store, then a motel where I holed myself up for the day and binged myself sick.



“Hey,” Jordan said softly as I walked through the lobby.

I knew he was behind the reception desk, I just couldn’t bring myself to look at him, knowing what I was going out to do. I was afraid he’d see it written all over my face.

I hadn’t spoken to him since yesterday. He’d been so sweet to me about the Anna thing, but I was lost somewhere deep inside my head … I still was.

“I’m going out,” I said. And that was it.

Then I was out the door and in my car, driving to the convenience store on the outskirts of town and buying what I needed to make myself feel better in the only way I know how.

I parked in a quiet spot and started to rip open the food, then realization hit me, quickly followed by panic. What if someone saw me out here? What if Jordan had followed me and knew what I was doing? It was irrational, I knew that, but my head was a mess.

The what ifs were there, and they weren’t leaving anytime soon.

How would I explain to him? How would I make him understand?

I wouldn’t. I’d lose him.

That was when I saw the sign for a motel just down the street.

Shoving the food back in the bag, I set my car in drive and drove to the motel.

It looked sketchy and rundown, but I didn’t care about that. I just needed to be alone, so I got a room.

Once in it, I sat down on the bed and ripped into the food. As the food hit my palette, a discontented peace slid through me that I had needed to feel since I’d left Anna Monroe’s house.



I’d hit low. And after I was done, all I’d wanted was Jordan. It was like an urgent panic … a desperate need to be with him.

He’s the only person who has ever made me feel good and whole.

I’d wanted him to give me those feelings back, so I’d cleaned up, then was out of that hotel and in my car, driving back here to him … taking my clothes off … asking him to make love to me…

I just hadn’t thought beyond that. The possibility of him seeing me. Seeing my scars.

I need to get out of here.

Moving quickly, I slide out of bed, taking the sheet with me so I can wrap it around myself.

“Morning,” he says. I can hear the careful in his voice.

I can’t bring myself to meet his eye. “Morning,” I say. “I just … need to use the bathroom.”

I’m in there a second later, locking the door behind me. Moving to the sink, I stare at myself in the mirror above it. I hate what I see staring back.

I sit down on the toilet, trying to control my emotions, the urges I’m having right now.

I need to get dressed and out of here, but I can’t because I left my clothes outside when I was stripping in front of Jordan.

What was I thinking? I don’t act that way. That isn’t me.

But he makes me want to be that way. He makes me want to be something … someone, better.

And now he’s seen the hideous scars I hide, and it’s going to be too much for him. I’m going to lose him, just when I’d got him.

A gentle knock on the door. “Mia? Are you okay in there?”

“Yes.” My voice breaks. “I’ll be right out.”

Wrapping the sheet tight around my body, I slowly open the bathroom door.

Jordan is sitting on the edge of the bed wearing black boxer shorts. Nothing more.

If I wasn’t in my current messed up state, I would take my time and truly appreciate his fine body which I’m seeing for the first time in daylight.

To say he’s toned is putting it mildly. I could happily run my pinky finger along the lines of his six-pack for hours.

His eyes lift to mine. “Hey,” he says in a gentle voice. Getting to his feet, he comes over to me.

Wanting him to touch me so badly, yet afraid what it’ll do to me if he does, I sidestep him.

“Thank you … for last night.” Thank you? I couldn’t think of anything better to say? “I’m going to go to my room…”

“Wait.” His voice comes from behind me. “Don’t leave. Talk to me.”

I sigh and turn around. “What do you want to talk about?”

“This … you and me.” He gestures a hand between us. “The way you’re acting now – shutting me out. I thought after last night…” He scrubs a hand over his bed hair. “Look, I think I know why you’re acting this way … why you wouldn’t let me turn the light on last night … the scars on your bottom and thighs…”

I visibly cringe. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I can feel my traitor eyes filling with tears.