Beneath These Scars (Beneath #4)

She laughed, and the sound sent ice water trickling down my spine. “Men don’t need to know every little thing, silly girl. And this is for his own good. You know why? Because once he sees your name on a tomb, he’ll never worry about you again.”


“Aren’t you afraid he’ll despise you forever if he knows you hurt me?” It was a crazy assumption, but maybe if she thought he was still in love with me, then he wouldn’t want her to hurt me. And I was desperate.

“He loves me. He’ll thank me someday.”

I tried a different tack. “I think you’re miscalculating. Jay doesn’t want me back. And if anything, he’d want to hurt me himself. So you’re taking away something he’d prefer to do. How is that fair?”

It was the sickest and most messed-up argument I could offer, but again—desperation.

“Then maybe I’ll never let him find out what happened to you.”

“You think he’ll just stop wondering if I go missing? You don’t think that’s going to make him even more likely to keep looking for me? This isn’t going to work out how you planned, Jennifer. I promise.”

She came closer and lowered her face into mine. “It’s going to work exactly how I planned, and he’ll never know any different.”

The sound of gravel crunching in the driveway out front got our attention. My stomach churned again.

“Are you sure about that?”

Her head jerked up. “It’s not him—” The sound of a mechanical motor droned from a distance.

The garage door. It was him.

I never thought I’d be happy to see Jay Haines again, ever, but I was hoping and praying it was him. Anything to buy me enough time to try to get away. Even if it was my worst nightmare come to life.

Jennifer dropped a hand to her hip, looking put out and maybe the slightest bit panicked. “He’s not supposed to come home for a few more hours.”

“Looks like you’re going to have some explaining to do.”

A door opened somewhere in the house and heavy footsteps thudded on the wood floor. I braced myself for the first sight of my ex-husband in years.

My heartbeat ramped up as he crossed into the parlor. He was still tall with blond hair, but was now about fifty pounds heavier—and none of it muscle. His blue eyes landed on me, and his rounded face pinched with confusion.

“Yve?”

“Hey, Jay. How’s it going? Glad you found a new friend while you were in prison.” Where the lady balls came from for me to toss those words out in that joking tone, I’ll never know.

His eyes snapped to Jennifer. “Jenny, what’s going on? What are you doing?”

She tucked the knife behind her back, and her words came out in a tone that was nothing like the one she’d used with me. “She came after me; you have no idea how scared I was. I had to protect myself.”

A bark of laughter escaped my lips. “That’s your story? That I came after you? Not that you’ve been stalking me, breaking into my apartment, leaving threatening notes on my mirror, and oh—blowing up my apartment and then luring me here to kill me? I’m sure he’s going to buy it.”

Jay looked just as confused as ever. “What is she talking about, Jenny? You’d never do anything to hurt Yvie. You know that she’s—”

“Your past! She’s your past, and I’m your future! She’s nothing. I’m the only one that matters!”

And the train had officially pulled into Crazy Town.

Jay came closer, and it was more than ironic that at this moment, I was looking at him as if he might save me, and at a tiny little blonde like she was the biggest threat in the room. But that would be a mistake.

“How’ve you been, Yvie?”

The fact that Jay could start a regular conversation with me while I was duct-taped to a chair was just one more sign that he wasn’t altogether there either.

I swallowed. I really didn’t want to have this conversation, but I didn’t want whatever the alternative was even more, because I doubted it involved me walking out the door unharmed.

He circled me before crouching near my feet. “You answer me when I ask you a question, Yvie. You can’t have forgotten our rules already.”

All the memories of pain and shame flooded me.

Jay’s fucking rules. There were so many. Always changing, so they were impossible to keep track of or get right. Toward the end, it was a rare day when I could make it through without tripping over some unknown rule I was supposed to be following.

Every old scar and injury seemed to light up in ghosting pains, as if they knew what was coming. My ribs, my collarbone, my left arm, the fingers of my right hand, and countless others. I straightened, locking it all down. I was no longer a victim. I would not cower in front of him like a dog.

“I’m great, Jay. Just great. And my boyfriend is going to kick your ass when he finds out that your fiancée tied me to a chair.”

It was the first time I’d ever referred to Lucas as . . . anything, really. But in that moment, thinking of him gave me strength.

It was the wrong move.