Scars In the Sunlight

Scars In the Sunlight
Nathan

I don’t take no for an answer. Not when it comes to food, and definitely not when it comes to her.
“Come on,” I said, leaning against the doorframe like I owned it, arms crossed, grin dialed in. “One hour. Sunshine, fresh air, good food. What’s the worst that can happen?”
Ruthanne sat on the edge of the sofa, arms wrapped around herself. She was still too pale, too thin, but her scars were healing. The light hit her face in cruel angles, catching the pink line that carved down her cheek. She has several on her arms and legs as well. My wolf growls inside, begging for revenge, and he’ll get it.
She noticed me looking and jerked her chin away, hair falling forward.
“I don’t need a picnic.” Her voice was low, flat.
“Wrong,” I said cheerfully. “You definitely need a picnic. It’s not optional.”
Her eyes cut toward me, narrowed, as if she was trying to figure out what game I was playing. I kept the grin in place, leaning in just far enough to be impossible to ignore.
“You’ll like it. I promise. Unless you hate sandwiches. In which case…” I tapped my jaw as if thinking hard. “You’ll still like it, because I’ll eat all of yours, and everyone wins.”
That almost earned me a smile. Almost.
“Why do you keep...” she started, then broke off, sighing before pressing her lips together.
“Keep what?”
“Keep trying,” she muttered.
“Because I’m stubborn,” I said easily. “And because you’re worth trying for.”
Her gaze snapped to mine, sharp and wounded, like she didn’t believe a word of it. My chest squeezed, but I just winked.

“Let’s go. I promise not to drag you, unless you make me, and then I definitely will.” I secretly want to sweep her off her feet, push her against the wall, and kiss every scar on her, but she is nowhere close to ready for that.

The clearing wasn’t far. A patch of soft grass under the mountain sun with a willow tree behind overlooking a pond, birdsong in the air. I’d spread a simple, clean blanket and set down the basket. Ruthanne stood stiff on the edge, arms still locked across her chest.
And then Tish appeared.

She carried a second basket in her arms, her steps unhurried, her expression calm. Her hair was pulled back neatly, apron still on, flour dusting the edge of her sleeve. She smiled when she saw me, soft, almost sad.
“I’m here, I made it!” she said, handing me the basket. “You two can’t have a picnic without food.”
I blinked at her, genuinely shocked. Tish and I had history, and everyone knew it, but I hadn’t asked her for this. She suggested a picnic and offered to make the food. I don’t know why the fates blessed me in such a way to give me a mate and have my ex-girlfriend be so understanding that she wants to help me win over my mate.
You can’t make this up.

Ruthanne stiffened more, her whole body coiled. Her eyes flicked from me to Tish, suspicion thick in the air.
“Tish,” I started.
She lifted a hand, cutting me off. “I want you to be happy, Nathan and Ruthanne... I don’t know what you have been through, but you obviously deserve it too.”
For once, I didn’t have words. My throat felt tight.

Ruthanne’s voice was sharper than I’d heard it yet. “Why would you do this?”
Tish looked at her, then at me. Her smile was sad but steady. “Because I loved him once. And maybe I still do, in a way. But love doesn’t mean holding someone back.” She straightened, brushing flour from her hands. “It means wanting them to move forward. Even if it isn’t with you.”
Then she turned and walked away, apron catching the sunlight as she disappeared down the path.

Ruthanne’s eyes were on me, hard and searching.
“This was her idea?” she asked, cautiously.
I raised both hands, palms out. “Swear on the Fates, she suggested making us a picnic when I had breakfast this morning. She asked how it was going, and I told her you’re playing hard to get, which I am enjoying...”
She didn’t look convinced.

“Hey,” I said more gently. “She’s not plotting anything. She just… surprised me. Hell, she shocked me more than you, and I’ve been trying to get you out here for days.”
Her mouth tightened, but she sank onto the blanket anyway, knees drawn in close.
“Why?” she asked after a moment. “Why would she help you with me?”
I dropped onto the blanket beside her, stretching my legs out. “Because she’s better than I gave her credit for. And maybe because she sees what I do.”
Her gaze flicked toward me, sharp. “And what’s that?”
“That you’re worth it,” I said simply.
Her head jerked, as if I’d slapped her. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t say things like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not true. You don’t even know me.”
“There is a way to change that, and I will.” I opened the basket and started pulling food out and sitting it before her.

We ate in silence for a while. Or rather, I ate sandwiches, fruit, and even pie that Tish had tucked in at the bottom. Ruthanne picked at hers, more out of obligation than hunger.
Finally, I leaned back on my elbows, watching her. The way she kept her face half-hidden behind her hair. The way her fingers toyed with the crust of bread instead of eating it.
“You want to know what it feels like?” I asked quietly.
She glanced at me, startled.
“The bond. The pull...what it feels like to me.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed.
“It feels like…” I searched for the words. “Like there’s a string tied around my chest, pulling me to you. Like I’m restless when you’re not close, and at peace when you are. Like I can’t breathe right unless I know you’re safe.”
Her eyes dropped to her lap.

“I’ll never force you,” I added. “Not your hand, not your bed, not your heart. But I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here, however long it takes. That’s what the bond is for me.”
Her hands tightened in her lap. Then she broke.

“You can’t mean that,” she whispered, voice cracking. She turned to me, tears already brimming. “You’re six-four, built like a statue, perfect. And me....” She dragged a hand down her cheek, fingers catching on the raised scar that ran across it. “Look at me.”
I did. Steady, unflinching.
“I’m ruined,” she spat. “My face is ruined. My body’s ruined. You’re the Beta—do you even understand what that means? People stare at you already. They respect you. And if I’m at your side, they’ll stare at me too. At this.” She gestured at her scars, tears spilling now.
Her voice broke into sobs. “You deserve someone beautiful, Nathan. Someone who can hold her head up beside you, not someone who makes the whole pack pity you every time you walk into a room.”
I sat up, heart tearing.

“You think I care about that?” My voice was rougher now. “About what anyone else sees when they look at us? Let them stare. Let them choke on it. I don’t want them. I want you.”
She shook her head violently. “You can’t. Not when you could have someone better. Someone whole.”

I reached out, catching her wrist gently, pulling her hand away from her face. She tried to resist, but I held firm, cradling her chin so she had no choice but to meet my eyes.
“I see you,” I said. “Not your scars. Not what Landon did to you. You. And you are not ruined.”
Her tears spilled faster. “You don’t understand—”
“I do,” I cut in. “I understand that you’ve been broken and beaten and cut open by monsters who wanted to destroy you. And you survived. That doesn’t make you less. That makes you more.”
Her breath hitched, sobs shuddering through her.

I leaned closer, softer now. “If anyone stares, it’ll be because they’re jealous. Because I got you, and they didn’t.”
That earned me a choked laugh, broken and wet.
“I can’t be what you need,” she whispered.
“You already are,” I told her. “You just don’t see it yet.”

We sat like that for a long time, her tears falling, my hand steady on her cheek. She didn’t lean into me, but she didn’t pull away either. That was enough. For now.
Finally, I eased back, letting her go.
“You don’t have to believe me today,” I said. “Or tomorrow. Or ever, if that’s what you decide. But the bond doesn’t let go, and neither do I. So you’re stuck with me, Ruthanne. For as long as it takes.”

She turned away, wiping her face roughly, her shoulders shaking.
But she didn’t get up. She stayed on the blanket, close enough for our knees to brush.
And for me, that was a start.