I couldn’t stand to look at myself, but I walked to the mirror to inspect my cheek. Addy had come by a few days ago to remove the stitches, the skin around the wound still red, although not nearly as bad as it had been. She said I was healing nicely, and, in a few weeks, I should be able to see a plastic surgeon. The scar on my cheek was the worst of them, but I had others littered all over my body, too many to count, and while most of them would fade into nothingness, much like how I felt, some would remain, a faint reminder forever.
Gingerly touching the area, my fingers froze when I heard the doorbell. “She’s always forgetting something,” I mumbled, making my way down to the landing to answer the door, but as my hand grasped the handle, I hesitated, realizing Braylen would’ve used her key and not rung the bell. The chime sounded again, this time followed by several knocks.
Then I heard his voice and every hair on my body prickled. “Zoe. Please let me in.” Two more raps on the large door. “I need to see you.”
I backed away slowly even though he couldn’t see me. Not sure what to do as I’d been avoiding seeing or talking to him for weeks, I gathered the sides of my robe and pulled them closer together, ensuring as much of me was hidden as possible.
My heart ached to see him, to touch him, to hear him whisper soothing words into my ear, but my brain refused to allow me such comforts. I wasn’t any good to myself, let alone him, a man who struggled with what happened almost as much as I was—information told to me by my dad on a few occasions.
If I stood there and did nothing, he’d eventually go away, but then what? Would he start showing back up here unannounced, calling my cell and leaving me voice mails about how sorry he was, some of them while he was sober and some while he was drunk, not making much sense like he’d done before?
Only I wouldn’t be here for him to surprise, a discovery he’d find out soon enough. But did I have the strength to tell him face to face, or would I sneak off without another word?
Question after question bombarded me, my own thoughts making me dizzy, so much so, when Brick rang the doorbell again, he managed to startle me.
Over the days that passed since the attack, I’d been punishing him, but it wasn’t Brick’s fault for what happened.
It was mine for not heeding his warnings.
It was theirs for forcing themselves on me.
My feet moved surprisingly quickly, and the door was swung open before I could change my mind.
Brick gasped when he saw me and my hand immediately flew toward my face to cover my cheek, even though I believed his shock was that I opened the door and didn’t ignore him like I had been doing.
“I didn’t think you were gonna answer,” he said, reaffirming what I thought. I looked him up and down, taking in his state of dishevel. His dark hair was a tad longer than I remembered, his beard scruffier and borderline unkempt. Red-rimmed eyes stared back at me and his skin was slightly sallow, most likely from the endless days of drinking himself into oblivion, more information given to me from my dad.
“I wasn’t.”
“What made you change your mind?” My shoulders lifted, then fell because I didn’t have an answer, and even if I did, I wouldn’t know where to begin. “Can I come in?” he asked after we’d been staring at each other for what seemed like forever, when it was but a moment.
Cinching the top part of my robe even tighter, I moved back so he could enter, his arm brushing mine as he passed. I didn’t miss the eruption of tingles from the brief contact, but I didn’t dare say a word or react in any way. After I closed the door, I stood motionless in place, averting my eyes from his when his stare became too much.
The deep pulls of air into my lungs were useless because I didn’t know what to say to him, and when I finally did muster up the courage to speak, I froze yet again.
“How are you?” He took a tentative step closer but didn’t reach out to touch me, even though I saw his arm rise several inches from his side, only