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Chapter Eleven
Scarlett
Torn between celebrating and staying in, I opt for a chill Sunday at home. When I woke up this morning and found Cohen gone, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit disappointed. But a girl like me has no business getting mixed up with a guy like him. I can’t deny there was something there—the way I felt in his arms…that eerie sense of familiarity. A shiver runs down my arms at the memory of his gorgeous blue eyes—a gaze I could get lost in. If I weren’t already struggling to find my way.
A deflated sigh moves a wayward hair out of my face. I’m just not emotionally available right now, and it wouldn’t be fair to either of us to get tangled up in something that can never be.
Pulling myself off the lush velvet couch where I’ve been the better part of the day since arriving home from the Anderson retreat, I decide to make a cup of tea. I stretch my aching muscles as I stand, reminded of the previous night’s unfortunate events. My bare feet quietly slap on the worn hardwood floors as I move to the kitchen and shake the memories away. I prefer to replace them with ones from later in the evening. Ones where the dark knight stepped in and carried me away like it was a fairytale rather than a nightmare. Thoughts of the way he took care of me and made me feel delicate without treating me like I was broken swirl in my mind as I put the kettle on. The old Scarlet would’ve taken him to bed without a second thought, but I’m not that person anymore. At least I’m trying not to be.
Opening the whitewashed cupboard, I reach way to the back until my fingers brush the scalloped edges of the glass I’m searching for. It’s the one I use when I’m feeling sentimental, a piece of the set Wendy gave me years ago. Somehow, she knew my secret tea set was broken, so when I was thirteen, she gave me a new one, even though I pretended I was too mature. I secretly cherished it. This one cup is all that remains. Sadly, the rest was lost when I left Everlend. Setting it on the work top, I grab a single tea bag from the tin and drop it in the cup.
Fragile ivory china covered with green leaves and lavender colored roses she said reminded her of my eyes. Wendy was the closest thing I ever had to a real mum, and days like today, I miss her the most. Days when I need advice, but also someone to tell me it’s going to be okay and truly mean it. Last I heard, my birth mum had died. Possibly an overdose, a fire...maybe both. That was also the last I heard of my sister, Jasmine. Closing my eyes tightly, I see it like a movie in my mind.
I had been living at Everlend a couple years when I found a letter hidden in my secret place. The edges fluttering from the breeze, held in place under the weight of the stone, the white standing out amongst the emerald grass and pastel flowers. I would have thought it a joke or even a lie, if I didn’t recognize her perfect penmanship on the crisp paper. Even though education was never important to our mum, Jazz always read to me and made me practice my letters. My eyes scanned the page, drinking in her words like a man in the desert whose found water—a link to my old life, the only good part: my family.
Scarlett,
I hope this letter finds you well. I’m sure the nice lady with money is keeping you fed and safe inside those stone walls. That’s all I ever wanted for you—that you would never know the terrors of the night and sleep easily with your belly full. Don’t worry about Mum, she won’t be bothering us anymore. She took too much of her special medicine and there was an accident. A fire. The old place is gone. Don’t go back there. Nothing is left. Stay where you are, believe in dreams, and wish upon stars. Block out everything you can from our old life—erase it like footprints in the snow. Be everything she wasn’t and everything I couldn’t.
I’m sorry we can’t say goodbye in person. Please don’t hate me for leaving you . I thought it was best to give you a fresh start. That’s what I’m going to do, but I have to go away to get mine. Please don’t look for me, promise me! Don’t look backward, only forward. Shadows are behind us for a reason.
Love, Jazz
The whistle of the kettle pulls me back, and I’m standing in my kitchen, miles and years away from that day. If only shadows didn’t have to follow us. Opening my eyes, I blink back the tears.
Removing the pot, I switch off the burner and pour the hot water over my chamomile tea bag. Setting the kettle aside, I place the cup gently on a tray, grab a handful of biscuits, and open the back door leading out to a small patio. Sitting in the garden chair, I place the tea and biscuits on the footstool in front of me, giving my tea a moment to cool, and study my sanctuary. My little corner of paradise carved out in the world. Brick and flagstone cover the earth, edged in moss and blooms. Stone walls and a trellis of ivy leans toward the back, threatening to cover the walls in its tangled green webs. I could have found another place that was more modern, more me, the person I portray, but this tiny garden sold me on the place. My favorite is when the sun just begins to set and a perfect glow is cast over my patio wall, bathing everything in its golden light.
Sipping my warm tea, I think back to when it all changed—when I became this person. The damaged child grew to the defiant teenager, who became the young lady who used men to get what she wanted. All I knew is I wanted attention. I wanted someone to want me. I thought flirting with other guys and taking things to the next level might catch Piers’ attention. Turns out, I was wrong.
Not wanting to completely lose myself in the past, I mentally skim over the dark years—the years I lost my virginity to an older boyfriend who later became very possessive and controlling. Covering the bruises and lying all the time almost cost me my friendship with Piers and Teddy. After they rescued me and Willow left, things fell apart. He and James fought, he was kicked out of Everlend, and Teddy and I went along. Willow was nowhere to be found, and we were on our own. I tried to clean up my act and be what he wanted, but he was so lost himself, it wasn’t enough.
So, I did things my own way: I took control. I used my body to manipulate men. Wealthy men, businessmen, throwing caution to the wind with concern to my body and risking my safety. I thought if I was in charge, it would be different. But once again, I found myself in over my head.
Piers was getting his business off the ground and offered me a chance at something better, so I took it. And no matter how much I want to give in and fall back into old habits, I can’t be that person anymore. I shudder to think what I might have done, once upon a time, to close the Anderson deal—a deal I thankfully closed on my own merit. Piers still knows nothing about the outcome of this weekend. He hasn’t returned any of my emails. It’s like he doesn’t even care now that she’s back. I need him to care. I need this business. I need him. But he doesn’t need me.
Screw that! He does need me. I mentally shake myself from a pity party and push thoughts of him away. He needed me to close the deal, and I did. He also doesn’t know about Alan’s wandering hands or the mysterious stranger who came to my rescue. More thoughts of the black-haired Adonis invade my mind.
At first, I thought maybe Cohen was after the same thing as Alan and every other arse out there. But the way he sat with me and cared for me, it was almost like that moment existed in another space and time, hushed voices and gentle touches meant for comfort. But I couldn’t help but feel something when his hands were on me. When he was kneeling between my legs, I felt a deep stirring I haven’t felt in…I don’t know if I’ve ever really felt it before. I can’t remember the last time I was attracted to someone for who they are, not what they can provide me. The way he treated me, so precious, fighting to hold back…I know he felt it too. It made me wonder what it might be like for him to lose that control. My mouth waters in memory of his body, dripping with sweat, pressed up against me, smelling masculine and like a dark ocean spray. Eyes a dangerous blue, harboring secrets of their own. I wonder if I’ll ever see him again… I hope so.
When the sun has set, I think again about calling Piers. I haven’t heard from him all weekend and I’m a little hurt he hasn’t even bothered to check in to see how it’s going. Deciding to give it a little more time, I pack up my tray and head in. Washing my cup, I place it carefully back in its hiding spot and ring in a takeout order before heading to the toilet for a quick shower.
The warm water relaxes some of the tension still lingering in my muscles. My scratches are still a bit tender. I take care when washing, careful not to press too hard before letting the last of the suds rinse down my body, along my skin, and swirl into the drain, cleansed away by a steady stream of soothing water. A fluffy white towel engulfs me, feeling glorious on my freshly scrubbed skin. I apply coconut oil to my body, breathing in the sweet smell. I need an ocean holiday soon. Maybe the south of France. Or the Greek Isles.
A squeak fills the silence as my hand smudges away the condensation fogging up the mirror. The swipe reveals my clean, pale skin and bright eyes. My face looks somewhat refreshed. Seems a lazy day agreed with me. I make a mental note to do this more often. When I’ve towel dried my hair and twisted it into a bun, there is no more time for stalling, I decide to go ahead and ring Piers. After several times, it finally rings off. Maybe he’s doesn’t have a good signal where he’s at? I try not to take it personal, even though it is very much personal. I’m not going to let him ruin my relaxed mood. I wanted to tell him the good news in person or at least on the phone, but if he can’t be bothered to talk, then I’ll just text him.
It’s done.
Two words. I enter my room, drop the phone on my bed, and sink into the fluffy white duvet while I throw on fresh pajamas.
I don’t have much time to linger or second guess my decision before the bell chimes, alerting me that my take away is here. I pay the young man and thank him before taking the brown paper bag full of cartons of my favorite Chinese food. Carrying the food back to the couch, I set up a proper picnic on the table. Opening the bag, I smell the familiar spices, and my stomach growls on command. Opening the carton of lo mien noodles, I pop one into my mouth before rushing to the kitchen to grab some wine from the cooler and a bottle of water. I remove the cork from the Reserve Shiraz to let it breathe and reach into the cupboard, finding my hand settling on the tea cup once more instead of choosing a wine glass. Shrugging my shoulders, I carry the items back to my makeshift picnic. Ii pour the red wine in my teacup and take a sip, savoring the earthy taste of spicy fruit on my tongue. I decide to dig in and put all thoughts of Piers and a dreamy stranger named Cohen away. Flicking on the tele, I find an old black and white movie to keep my mind occupied. I’m tired of being ignored. I’m tired of not being important. Obviously, Piers moved on. It’s time I do the same.
