Protect Me From Myself

Chapter two

Callie

The girls and I sat in Emilee's living room, laughing, joking, making plans for Della's wedding, and talking about Lora's unborn baby. The girls then all sat talking about their men and how great they were.

Paige has just started a relationship with a guy who I went to school with, Kyle Harrison. She seems happy enough, but there's no spark in her eyes. She's not in love with him. He doesn't rock her world. I feel like she's just settling. I've tried talking to her about it, but she shrugs it off. I know it's Enzo that Paige wants, but I know he sees her as nothing more than his best friend's little sister. I sometimes look at Paige and see the heartbreak in her eyes.

What is it with the Ryker men and breaking girls' hearts?

Assholes!

Looking at my friends, I'm starting to feel like a spinster. I haven't dated anyone since John left me because, let's face it, who in the hell is going to want me looking like this? It repulses me to look at myself; I won't put myself through the agony of a man looking at me in disgust when he sees what I hide. I would rather be alone for the rest of my life than put myself through that.

“It's time for me to go,” I say with a smile while getting to my feet. “I have a class first thing.”

I teach an art class at the community center on Saturday mornings before work. On Saturday evenings, I attend Krav Maga classes. I have to keep myself busy. I work every day, and every evening, I attend classes or help out at the old folks' home. I may hate how I look, but I know I need to try and move on from what happened.

There's hardly a moment in my waking hours that I'm not doing something. My Krav Maga classes are something my big brother, Kory, encouraged me to do once I was well enough to learn. Which hasn't been all that long. And if I'm honest, I have to sit out a lot because I get so tired quickly. But learning the art of self-defense is something I should have done years ago.

Truth be told, I'm rarely seen in daylight. When at work, I'm out back. No one can see me there. Apart from the art I teach, my classes are of an evening, and those that attend only see me in my mask. But even with the mask, I'm so self-conscious that I often feel the panic rising.

“I'll drop you home.”

“That's okay, Lor. You don't need to leave yet. It's still early; you don't have work tomorrow.”

My sisters don't work Saturdays, so Della bakes enough cookies and pastries Friday afternoon to get me through Saturday. I also make sandwiches and subs as and when ordered. I manage pretty well on my own. Plus, I have a part-timer who helps me by taking orders and working in front of my shop, so I'm not alone.

Molly, my part-timer, opens up for me on Saturdays and holds down the fort until my class ends. On the rare occasions I have to work in front of the shop, I keep my head down. I don't make eye contact with anyone. Although I won't say I'm verbally rude to anyone because I'm not. Everyone in this town knows me and always wants to know how I'm doing. I answer the same every time, “I'm fine. Thank you. How are you?” Nothing more, nothing less.

“Are you sure?” I nod at Lora with a smile before kissing my two sisters on the cheeks, followed by the rest of the girls.

“You're not going to walk home, are you?”

“Del,” I chuckle. “I'm twenty-six. I've lived in this town my whole life; I'm sure I know the way home by now. Make sure you have a safe flight, and call me the moment you get there.” She's not even staying overnight; she'll be exhausted by the time she gets home. I honestly don't know how she does it.

But instead of resting for the night before coming home, she goes to her meetings and gets on the next plane home. Sleeping without Freddy is always a no-no where Della is concerned. Since they moved in together three years ago, apart from work and the little travel Della does, they have never spent time apart. They have that kind of relationship. And it's even worse since what happened last year. Being without him doesn't feel right to her, and that's okay because he feels the same way.

“I will.” I blow them all air kisses before leaving.

If I don't leave now, I'm going to have a panic attack. I need some fresh air. Being in the same place for too long, apart from my house, always makes me panic. The monster that did all of this to me ruined everything about me. And it is so hard trying to be the girl I once was. But I have to have faith that she's still in here with me somewhere, just waiting to get out.

* * *

It always amazes me how beautiful this town can be at night. The sky is always so full of stars, and I love sitting on the edge of the dock and dangling my feet in the cold water. I won't do that tonight, though, even though my feet are killing me. I've been standing on them for sixteen hours. Dangling my feet in the water in October isn't a good idea, though, no matter how much I may want to.

I lean against the metal rail and look out at the water, remembering times when life was so much simpler. I breathe the fresh air deep into my lungs. One of the benefits of living in a waterfront town is the freshwater air.

I used to love summers here when I was in high school. Jumping in the cold water with friends to cool down. Days of skinny dipping in the dark with Hudson, the way he would hold and kiss me, all the time feeling weightless in the water surrounding us.

As a grown-up, Sundays were my favorite days. That's when I'd jump into the water with my sisters and friends and have fun. The evenings were filled with Hudson and I doing whatever our hearts desired, even if that was simply holding each other. I won't be doing any of that next summer or any other summer, for that matter.

I push the strands of hair blown into my face by the wind behind my ear while breathing the fresh air into my lungs again. I should have worn my hat; I often do when I wear my red waist-length trench coat. I don't know why I didn't in this weather. And why did I leave my hair loose?

“Do you remember when we used to skinny dip in there?”

I jump out of my skin, my heart pounding. That voice is so familiar, so deep, so sexy. It's not one I've heard in a long time. Hudson Ryker, my first and only love, the man who broke my heart into a trillion pieces.

My heart is positively banging in my chest to the point I have to gulp a deep breath because it feels like it's forcing its way out of my throat. I imagine him here with me so often that I'm not sure he really is there.

“We once got caught by old Mrs. Palmer.” I chuckle to myself at the memory.

I can't turn around and look at him whether he's really there or not. I can't have him see my face. It's not the same face he remembers. And he's bound to ask what's with the mask, just like many out-of-towners do if they see me. I'm still mad at him for what he did and how he left me.

“Yes, we did.” He laughs. “How have you been?” He asks quietly.

“Fine.”

Not fine. I'm dead inside. I needed you so badly, and you weren't there, even though you promised you would always be there.

Not that I'll say that out loud, as much as I want to.

“How about you?”

“Fine. Still mad at me?”

“No.”

Yes. You left me for five years, jackass!

“Standing with your back to me suggests otherwise.”

He's right behind me. I know he's really there. And all of a sudden, he's so close to me.

Why is he standing so close to me?

“I should've come home before now.”

It's been five years since he's been here, five years since he walked away from me, five years I've worked hard to forget the man I once loved.

Why the hell is he here now?

Hudson doesn't care about me; if he did, he would have come back last year when my heart yearned for him to come and make everything better. That was a dream, one I didn't tell anybody about.

Why would I?

Everyone in town knows what happened, most of it. My daddy kept most of what happened to me a secret, as much as he could, from the press and the locals. Of course, not everything could be kept private; people saw me being wheeled out of the bakery looking like I was dead, and that's what people around here still talk about.

Hudson's big brother, Enzo, visited me after the event. I made him swear on his mother's grave not to call Hudson and tell him, even though he wanted to. He begged me and told me how he knew “Sonny,” as everyone but me calls him, would want to be there for me. I didn't want Hudson coming back here because he felt it was his duty to do so. And as Hudson keeps in touch with hardly anyone here, no one told him a thing.

“I'm sorry.”

“For what, Hudson? You left me; it's what people do. It's not a crime.”

“Leaving you behind was the biggest mistake I ever made.”

Convenient. Men are all the same. They leave you behind, have their fun, and then come home and think you'll fall at their feet.

“Yet it took you five years to realize it,” I say matter-of-factly. “How long are you staying?”

“I don't know yet. It all depends.” I don't really care what it depends on. I'm not interested. “Callie?”

I turn slowly as he clasps my shoulder. I may not want him to see my face, but I can't hide from him forever. He's back in town and bound to bump into me deliberately. And next time, it will be daylight because I know Hudson; he'll walk into my bakery and come out back to talk to me. I'd rather not have him ask me to remove my mask because I would if he asked. I wouldn't be able to stop myself because when Hudson Ryker speaks, he compels me to listen. It's always been that way with us. And I would hate to see the shock and disgust on his face. That would literally kill me, with no way of coming back from it.

Most people try not to look at me, not in the eye, at least. Because, of course, there are times when people catch my eye. It makes people uncomfortable knowing what's beneath the mask. But even that doesn't stop them from talking about me. It also makes you realize who your real friends are.

Tourists even stare at me like I'm some kind of monster. They can't even see my scars, yet they stare. That's one of the reasons why I stay in the back of my store and don't stand up front anymore.

I hate being stared at, but at least being stared at means people are looking at me. Not having the full attention of people you've known your whole life because they can't bear to look at you because of what happened hurts like hell. And trust me, the people I've known my whole life do a lot to avoid me where possible.

As you might be able to tell, my whole mind is just one big contradiction of life. I wear a mask and hide away because I don't want people to stare at me, yet when people do see me, I hate that they're scared to look at me. Or maybe they're just afraid of me.

This is why I want plastic surgery so badly. At least then, the scars won't be so huge and noticeable. Yes, there will still be a small scar; it's just too deep to fix completely. But I would rather walk around with my head held high and one smaller scar on my face than have to hang my head to hide the hell that resides there right now.

Hudson isn't looking at me like there's anything wrong with my face. It's like he hasn't even noticed the mask; he's just smiling at me, the same smile he gave me in preschool when he asked me out. He looks exactly the same as the last time I saw him. His dark hair is still long, his eyes are still dark, and he still looks like he could do with a shave, even though his beard is closed-cut. He's still packing muscle in all the right places. Yet I'm not attracted to him.

And I'm now officially a big fat liar as well as delusional!

Of course, I'm attracted to him; I always have been. Just because I'm mad at him for leaving and never contacting me again doesn't change that. The ache in my body, the pull of his body calling mine to his... It's all still there.

I won't let Hudson see that I still want him that way. Even though I can feel my breath coming sharp and quick. The five-year ache inside of me for him has suddenly intensified to an all-time high. Only Hudson Ryker could make me feel like this. No other man ever has or will again.

“You're every bit as beautiful as you were when I left.”

I wrap my arms around myself. It may be dark, but he can see my face in the street lights. He can't pretend he hasn't seen what I know he has. He can see the mask covering my scars. I don't want him to ask why I'm wearing it, and I don't want him to say these things to me: I'm not the girl I once was. He doesn't need to try and pretend I'm something I'm not.

“I have to get home.”

“You're walking?”

“Yes,” I nod. “And no, I don't want you to walk with me.” I turn and walk away from Hudson without another word.

Seeing him again is too much for my heart to deal with right now. I don't want to think about the past and all the ways in which he loved me. Nor do I wish to torture myself over the way he left me like I was nothing three weeks before our wedding day. All I want is to go home and curl up in bed with my dogs.