Page 8 of The Scars We Heal

“Like I said, Cait, it’s not a problem. The house was sitting empty, it deserves to have some life breathed into it.”

Silence fell between us, the only sounds around us being the birds chirping in the trees and Whitley’s squeals of delight as she ran around the lawn.

Clearing his throat, Jake said, “Well, let me know if you need anything. I’m right next door.” He winked at the joke, and a bit of relief settled over me.

This was fine. Everything was fine.

My lips flattened into a thin line, a half-smile, as I offered Jake a curt nod as thanks, then I headed toward the front porch of our new home. I called Whitley over as Jake disappeared into his front door, and her tiny footsteps pounded against the wooden porch as she ran up the stairs.

“Okay, bug, stay with me. Don’t touch anything until Mommy can look around okay?”

“Okay, Mommy.” She nodded, although I was sure she’d probably run off anyway.

“Home sweet home,” I murmured as I inserted a key in the lock and twisted the door handle, pushing it open to reveal a small entryway leading into the living room, complete with a narrow table for keys and a coat rack. The house was already furnished, and I had to admit, Jake had decent taste. I knew he’d planned to turn it into an Airbnb or a vacation home for people passing through, so it made some sense that it was a more modern style compared to the rustic, cowboy aesthetic I expected his house to have.

The walls were painted a neutral color—a millennial greige, if you will—and there weren’t many decorations on them. My thoughts immediately wandered to what the place would look like with a little wallpaper or a bright accent wall, but I shook them away, remembering that this was temporary. It wasn’t my house to change.

I took my time walking through each room with Whit, taking in the surroundings.

A pale, sage-green loveseat and a light-brown coffee table were placed in the living room in front of a small brick fireplace. The window facing the front lawn didn’t have curtains, but there was a rod above it.

The kitchen was small but cozy, much like the rest of the house, with white marble countertops and rustic white cabinets.

The house had two bedrooms, just like Jake had said. They weren’t too different in size, and neither had a bathroom attached, so I’d have to decide which room to make Whitley’s. After a bit of deliberation, I decided to put her in the room facing the back of the house. I, selfishly, wanted a view of the front lawn. To keep an eye out for visitors, not to catch glimpses of my new neighbor, of course.

After sending off a quick text to my mom telling her we’d found a place, I made a mental checklist of things I’d need to buy: groceries, personal hygiene items, all the basic essentials you didn’t think you’d be missing when you had to pack up your life without notice.

I’d also be applying for a new credit card as soon as I could. Then I could work part-time once Whitley started school, maybe even sooner if my family was willing to help. It’d been a while since I’d had a traditional day job, having spent most of my time as a stay-at-home mom, but part of me wanted to go back to work. I’d have to find something with flexible hours, but there had to be jobs that would accommodate a single mom, right?

I took a deep breath, letting my nerves and anxiety over the whole situation wash away.

This would be a new start for both of us. A clean slate.

CHAPTER FOUR

jake

My traitorous eyes kept wandering toward the guest house while I prepped dinner. I wasn’t even sure what I was hoping to see. Caitlin walking out of her front door? Caitlin cooking dinner for herself and Whitley, or dancing with her in the living room? It had been a couple days since they moved in next door, and I hoped they were settling in okay.

Sunbeams filtered through the window, the panes casting shadows over my kitchen. I was in the middle of chopping vegetables when I caught a glimpse of movement in the guest house windows.

A sharp pain radiated through my hand as I nicked myself with the tip of the knife.

“Fuck,” I muttered, lifting my hand to inspect the damage. A small red bead welled on my finger, and the knife clattered onto the cutting board as I heaved out a sigh, abandoning the food to clean the wound and put a bandage on it.

I really needed to get a grip. If watching out my window for Caitlin didn’t make me a stalker at the very least, it also clearly wasn’t doing me any favors health-wise. The last thing I needed was to lose a finger because I was distracted by my friend’s older sister. Besides, she just got a divorce from the man she’d been with since college. It was foolish to think she had—or would even develop—romantic feelings for me. I was also technically her landlord now. There had to be some ethical or moral line that I shouldn’t cross, even if I wanted to.

But I couldn’t deny the pull I’d felt for Caitlin since I met her at SGU. Perhaps I was an idiot for harboring feelings all this time.

Frustration coursed through me as I thought about the day we found out Adam served her divorce papers. On Valentine’s Day. Her birthday.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Ellison pulled me into a hug the moment I stepped through the front door.

“Happy Valentine’s, Ellie girl.” I leaned into her, balancing a tray of store-bought sugar cookies in my hand. Pulling away, I looked around for Colter. “Where’s the big man? I’ve gotta give him his V Day smooches.”

She pointed toward the kitchen, shaking her head with a laugh. “He’s in there. Go crazy.”

“Perfect.” I headed in that direction, calling out, “Oh, Colty! C’mere so I can give you a kiss!”