Scars Like Ours | Red View Romance #2

🐈 Seventeen

Cliff stared up at his bedroom ceiling as the first rays of sunlight filtered through his window. Fritters was curled up by his side, even though the pet-bed was sitting vacant nearby.

The cat clearly had no trouble getting some sleep. Cliff, on the other hand, hadn't gotten much at all. He'd told Annie the truth yesterday--or parts of it, at least. She still didn't know the sequence of the events that gave him his scars, but she did know the aftermath.

Like he'd said, there had been some aching part of him that was dying to get it all off his chest, yearning for someone to know why he couldn't integrate into Red View as easily as everyone might have expected him to. There was nowhere on earth where he'd be more comfortable, and yet it was still a struggle to walk out the front door most days. Now there was at least one other person who knew exactly why.

When he'd started rambling out that apology, he'd told her she put him at ease, and he'd meant it. Her gentle nature had gotten him to admit the story without even planning to. He'd been trying to think of who to tell first, when to say it, and in the end it had just come flying out of him because he felt, inexplicably, like she'd understand.

When she hopped down from that wagon and came over, wrapping her arms around him, he knew down to his bones that it was the right thing to do. He wasn't ready to tell his family yet, and while part of him felt guilty for that, at least no part of him had to feel so alone anymore.

They'd spent the rest of the time decorating the wagons, talking more about their work and the oddest freelancing stories they had. She seemed impressed even by the credits he was embarrassed of, and he couldn't say he didn't find it flattering. They ate pizza together with everyone else and she headed home, saying she needed to get her apartment in better shape for hosting dinner.

As the dawn turned into morning Cliff stayed in bed for awhile, fading in and out of sleep, wonderfully haunted by dreams of Annie and the way it felt to hold her. Delicate and soft, smelling of vanilla and warmth. Occasionally his mind would veer to the splinter incident and the stupidity that had overcome him.

She'd been in pain, and he wasn't thinking of anything other than getting her out of it. He should've asked first--Hell, he shouldn't have done it at all. The thing to do would've been to walk her back to the manor and tend to her with the first aid kit, not use his teeth like some kind of barbarian.

When he'd had enough of floating between a dreamless sleep, the pleasant recollections of the hug and the embarrassing memory of the storage shed, he got up and got ready for the day. Fritters hardly seemed to mind, moving over into the beam of sunlight that was now warming the bed where Cliff had been laying.

Despite the cat's apparent contentment to laze there all day, he left his door open a crack when he left so Fritters would be able to roam around whenever he decided he felt like it. Most likely he'd want to go visit Jack in an hour or so. It seemed everyone in the house was deciding not to mention how he was leaving his office doors open now, too.

Cliff made his way to the kitchen and found it occupied only by Layla, who was sitting at the island. She looked up from her tablet when he entered and offered a smile.

"Morning." She set down her stylus, picked up her spoon to dig into the grapefruit half on a saucer in front of her.

"Morning. You working on gym stuff?" He made his way over to the bread box on the counter and grabbed two slices, popping them into the nearby toaster. When he looked over to Fritters' food and water bowl, he found them both already filled. His first thought was that Kenzie did it, but with a slow smile he realized it might've been Jack.

"Mm-hmm. Trying to decide on how I want things for the lobby. I'm used to Foster Fitness gyms, where everything is really sleek and modern, but I feel like I want something a little more laid-back for my own."