Leave a Mark (34 page)

Like they could see everything. Every crack in her heart.

Like no amount of ink could cover her.

Like she was powerless again.

She had to get some clothes on before she freaked out completely. Forcing herself to turn away, Wren broke from the group and aimed for Lee’s bedroom, hearing their words as she retreated.

“Leland, who is that?” his father asked.

“Dad, what are you doing here?”

Wren closed the bedroom door behind her, but their voices seeped underneath it. Wren grabbed her overnight bag and dug in it for her clothes, trying, futilely, not to listen.

“We saw your Jeep and thought we’d stop in.” This was from his stepmother, her words fast and nervous.

“And you didn’t see Wren’s car? She’s parked right beside me.” Irritation sharpened his voice.

“How were we to know?” his father asked, defensive. “We thought it was another one of your acquisitions. Besides, aren’t you getting back together with Marcelle?”

The blood rushing through her ears drowned out the rest of their words.

“Back together with Marcelle?”
It couldn’t be true. It
couldn’t
be true.

Except it could.

The look on their faces had marked genuine shock. Lee’s father and stepmother had no idea he’d been seeing someone else. Mamaw Gigi knew about
him
, but clearly, Lee hadn’t felt it necessary to tell his family about
her
.

He’d told Wren he loved her, but if he did, why wouldn’t his family know about them? Every explanation Wren could come up with left a weight in the pit of her stomach. He either wasn’t sure about her, he didn’t think they’d like her…

Or he wasn’t proud to claim her.

And, really, how could he be? The people she’d just met at his front door would probably always look at her the way they had just now. She would never fit in with them.

She would never fit in with
him
.

It was time to go.

There was no way she could walk out and face any of them now, and she wasn’t going to hide in his room like a fool. Wren yanked on her jeans and sweater and found her shoes in his bathroom.

She listened at the door and could hear them arguing. Her purse was still in the kitchen. If she was quiet, she could make it out the back before anyone noticed.

Turning the knob of his bedroom door, Wren held her breath.

“No, Dad, you
don’t
need an invitation to come over, but a little warning would be nice, don’t you think?” Lee’s voice sounded strained.

She’d heard him get upset before, but this sounded different. Wren opened the door noiselessly.

“It never bothered you when you were with Marcelle,” his father countered.

She felt a little stab at this. It was more than just the mention of her name; it was the deference Lee’s father showed her. There was no way she’d ever get that.

“Well, it bothers me now.” The words were soft, but clipped, as if he was holding back.

Did it bother him now because of who she was? If he’d known they were coming, would he have stalled them or sent her away?

She crept into the hall and veered into the kitchen, trying to keep out of sight, but his father spoke again before she reached the door.

“Because of that girl?” His voice was hushed, but it still echoed down the hall. “Leland, I don’t mean to pry, but are you being careful? She looks like a drug addict.”

THE SOFT GASP
that floated down the hall made him turn. He caught her shattered look the moment before the kitchen door closed behind her.

“Wren—”

Lee took off at a run. He cleared the back yard in time to see her duck into the Mustang. He’d been here before — done this before — and it was the last thing he wanted.

“Don’t leave.”

She wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Lee knew that if she left now — after hearing what she’d heard — she might never come back. Wren shut the driver’s side door as he came around the front of the car.

“Don’t leave, Wren.” He stepped up her to side of the Mustang, but she slapped down the lock before he could open it. “Look at me, Wren.”

But she wouldn’t. Lee could see that she was digging in her bag, hunting for her keys, and he knew he had only seconds to get through to her. He bent low and pressed his fingertips to her window.

“You have to stop running.”

When she flinched, he knew she could hear him loud and clear.

“Stay with me and fight for us.”

The keys appeared in her hand, and he watched her struggle to fit the right one into the ignition.

“I love you, Wren. And I know you love me, too."

Wren stilled. She wouldn’t look at him, but it was enough to give him hope.

“What does it matter what anyone else thinks when we know what we have?”

The Mustang’s engine fired up.

“Shit, Wren, don’t do this.”

She pulled down the gearshift, putting the car into reverse, and Lee knew he had to leave them an out.

“This means nothing, Wren. You leaving now means nothing.” He thumped her window with the heel of his hand. “You’re upset, and that’s okay. But we’re okay, too.”

Her head was tilted down as he spoke, but something caught her eye, and she looked up toward his house. Lee followed to see his father and Barbara crossing the yard cautiously, confusion clear on their faces. He’d have to deal with them eventually, but now he needed them to stay back.

“Hang on, guys. Give us a minute.”

“But Leland, you’re half-naked and causing a scene,” his father said, still approaching. “Let the girl go.”

Anger, like a flash bomb, blew away the last of his restraint. “Dad, back the hell off!” he yelled, earning himself their stunned expressions.

Wren even looked up at him. But instead of finding surprise, all he saw was sadness. She rolled down her window a single inch.

“You heard the man, Lee. Let me go.” Her voice sounded completely hollow. “Step away. I don’t want to hurt you.”

She took her foot off the brake, and the car started to roll.

He locked eyes with her but pushed back from the car. “You already have.”

LEE WATCHED HER
pull away and kept watching until the turquoise Mustang turned onto Cherry Street. Then he pulled out his phone and sent her a text.

Lee:
This isn’t over.

He’d give her a few minutes to calm down and lick her wounds, but he wasn’t going to let her start her workday without getting them back where they needed to be. But first, he had to establish some ground rules. He turned back to his dad and Barbara.

“We need to talk.”

“I’ll say we do,” his father grumbled, his affronted expression stoking Lee’s anger. He swallowed the urge to take a swing at the man, but the intention was clear in his voice when he spoke.

“What happened this morning will
never
happen again.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that be—”

“Because you will treat the woman I love with care and respect, or you won’t be welcome here.” He aimed his gaze first at his father and then at Barbara. “Neither one of you.”

The look of shock on his father’s face had to be genuine. “But we’ve always treated Marcelle that way. We love her like—”

“Dad, I’m not fucking talking about Marcelle,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m in love with Wren Blanchard, the girl you just insulted — maybe beyond repair. She’s the love of my life, and, if she ever gives me the chance, I’ll marry her and thank my lucky stars until the end of time.”

Barbara’s hand settled over her heart as her mouth made a silent
O
, but his father’s face went slack with confusion. “What?”

Lee was about to grab the man by his throat when the sound of a buzzer cut across the yard. They all turned toward the open kitchen door.

“Is something in the oven?” Barbara asked.

Wren.

Of course something was in the oven. That was why she hadn’t been curled up in bed with him when he awoke — when he awoke to her screaming. She’d been making him breakfast. Again.

Lee ran back into the house with his parents at his heels. The kitchen smelled of sweetness and warmth and home, and Lee shut off the timer and grabbed two potholders. He pulled open the oven door to find a dozen perfectly golden blueberry muffins.

“Oh, Wren,” he whispered.

He set the muffins on the stove and gripped the counter. The morning had given him the most unwelcome sense of déjà vu. The night he’d fallen in love with Wren, she’d left his house hurt and unprotected. Today had been no different. And both times, she’d done something so incredibly sweet for him.

“She made those?” his father asked, eyeing the steaming tin with surprise. Lee nodded.

“From scratch by the looks of it,” Barbara said, appreciatively.

“Well…” his father began, frowning. “…why did she leave?”

Lee faced him with a scowl. “Because you embarrassed her, and then you insulted her, Dad. You talked about her like she didn’t matter,” he said, years of resentment pressing behind each word. “Like you’ve done with so many things that were important to me. My job. My house. My choices…”

“What do you mean? I’ve always supported—”

“Dad, when I told you I wanted to specialize in obstetrics and gynecology, you pushed me to reconsider. Why not become a heart surgeon like you? Better hours. Better pay.” He didn’t try to hide the bitterness.

His father’s face sagged, as though his son’s words betrayed him. “I thought it would be too hard on you… what with your mother’s illness…”

“Ovarian cancer, Dad. You can say it.” Barbara flinched at Lee’s tone, but he didn’t stop. “Don’t you get it? The reason I wanted to be a doctor was
because
of Mom. It was oncology or gynecology, and, considering how much I
hate
cancer, delivering babies seemed to be the best choice. And I think Mom would have approved.”

His father looked down, but he nodded with a sad smile. “Of course she would have approved.”

Lee was glad to hear this, but he wasn’t finished. “And I think she would have approved of Wren,” he said, the power of the truth filling him up. “I know she would have.”

Lee watched a distressed frown crease Thomas Hawthorne’s forehead. His mouth seemed to shrivel. Was this his dad looking…
guilty?
True to form, his father traded the expression for one of frustration.

“Why didn’t you tell us anything about her? How long have you been seeing her?”

Lee owned his mistake. He should have told them something about her. He sighed. “I was waiting for the right moment. She’s… not like anyone else I’ve dated—”

His dad gave a chuckle. “I’ll say.”

Barbara
tsked
and shot her husband a look of warning.

“It’s only been a few weeks, but she’s scared to take a chance with me, and I didn’t want to spook her.” Lee shrugged. “You guys seemed so hung up on Marcelle I figured you needed some time, too.”

Barbara had the good grace to look chagrinned. “I bear the blame there,” she admitted, shaking her head. “When I heard the two of you broke up, I’m afraid I interfered because I was so fond of her… I owe you an apology, Lee.”

Lee startled at the sound of his name. Barbara almost always called him Leland, just like his father did.

“I — Thank you, Barbara,” he stammered.

“And I’m so sorry to upset your friend, Wren,” she added, eying her husband. “We both are.”

His father put his hands in his pockets and looked at his feet. Close enough.

“Why all the tattoos?” he asked after a minute.

Less judgment filled his tone than Lee would have expected. He pictured Wren’s amazing body, praying she’d let him see it again, and smiled when he answered. “Aren’t they beautiful?” He didn’t wait for them to agree, but he wanted them to know how he felt. “She’s an artist. Skin is her medium.”

Lee watched his father blink and take in this information. If he harbored any negative opinion about this, he kept it to himself.

“If she’d have known you were coming,” Lee said meaningfully, “she never would have let you see so much. She’d have been covered up. You would’ve had no idea what she looked like.”

Barbara bit her lip, but his father pointed to Lee’s chest. “Did she do that?”

Lee looked down at his key with pride. “Hell, yes. How do you think I got her number?”

Amusement lifted the corners of his father’s eyes. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered. Then he looked at his son, really looked at him. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

“I’ve never felt like this.”

“Well, son, don’t just stand there,” his father said, frowning to hide his smile. “Get some clothes on and go get her.”