Page 11 of The Scars We Heal

Think, Jake, think.

Pacing back and forth, I let out a string of curses before it finally dawned on me. I had a spare key to the house. It was underneath one of those fake rocks.

Taking the steps two at a time, I squatted to grab the key, then I popped back up and returned to the door. I pushed the key into the lock, turning it until I heard the satisfying click.

I’d imagined a lot of things going on behind the door, however, the last thing I expected to see when I threw it open was Caitlin in only a towel. She was fanning the smoke that billowed out of the open oven with one hand while the other held the fabric shut. Water dripped from the ends of her dark hair, pooling on the ground in a puddle.

I cleared my throat to get her attention, and she spun around at the sound.

A high-pitched scream came out of her mouth, but her free hand flew to her chest when she realized it was just me. “Oh my God! Jake you gave me a fuck—I mean, freaking heart attack! What are you doing?”

I grimaced, my lips pressing into a thin line. “I heard the fire alarm, and you didn’t answer the door when I knocked and yelled for you, so I got worried. What exactly happened here? Where’s Whitley?”

Caitlin’s eyes rolled toward the ceiling as she huffed out a breath. “I was making dinner.” A sheepish look flashed across her face. “I decided to take a quick shower after I put the food in the oven, but I guess the timer didn’t go off. And, well, I’ve never been great at keeping track of time, so here we are. Whitley’s in her room playing. She’s fine. Other than the fact that we don’t have dinner now, and she’s probably going to get cranky.”

We stared at each other for a brief moment, me trying not to let my eyes wander up and down her body.

Her brows pinched. “Wait, how did you get in here anyway?”

I held up the key. “Spare key.”

“Right. T-that makes sense. Given you’re the owner of this house and all.” As if she was suddenly aware of her lack of clothing, redness crept into her cheeks. “Anyway, I should probably get dressed and figure out what I’m going to do for dinner since I’ve burned it to a crisp.”

The words left my lips before I could stop them. “Come over to my place for dinner. I made a ton of chicken, vegetables, and rice.”

“Jake, no.” Her head shook aggressively at the offer, and I wasn’t sure if I should have been offended or not. “You’ve already done so much. Heck, you’re literally letting us live in your house rent free. I can’t accept dinner from you, too.”

“What are you going to do instead?” I asked.

Her face paled, and her mouth gaped, opening and closing like a fish. “I’m sure I can figure something out.”

A small chuckle escaped my lips, and her eyes narrowed.

“What?”

My lips curled up in a grin. “You always let your pride get in the way of asking for help, Cait.”

“I do not.”

“Oh, yeah? Then prove it. Bring Whitley over and have dinner at my house. Let me help you.”

She opened her mouth like she wanted to argue but then clamped it shut. “Fine. But just this once. To prove I’m not letting my pride take over.”

Not if I can help it, I thought, but I simply nodded in agreement.

“Let me get dressed, and then Whit and I will meet you over there.” She must have noticed the doubt slipping into my expression, because she added, “Promise. I won’t bail on you.”

“I’m holding you to it.” I looked over my shoulder one last time as I stepped out the front door and made my way back across the lawn to my house.

Less than ten minutes later, a gentle tap, soft as a whisper, came from the front door.

I practically bounded over to it, only pausing with my hand on the doorknob to take a deep breath and compose myself so I didn’t look like an overeager puppy dog.

When I swung the door open, Caitlin’s lips curled up into a subtle smile.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Come on in.” After staring at her a moment too long, I stepped to the side to allow her and Whitley to pass by me.