“Understand why you push people away.”
“Most people don’t. They don’t get it. But it doesn’t matter. This keeps me safe. Keeps me from getting hurt.”
“I hope you know that I would never hurt you.”
My grin is lopsided and humorless. “That’s what they all say.”
“Only I mean it.”
“I think Calvin did, too. In his own twisted way. He just wanted something of his own, something no one could take away from him. And that thing was me.”
“I don’t care what he wanted. There’s never a good enough reason for a man to hurt a woman like that. Never.”
“I had to stop thinking that way a long time ago,” I say, pulling Rogan’s hand away from my face. I can’t lean on him right now. I can’t accept his strength. I need to be able to relive this and be at peace with it on my own. “I carried a combination of fear and anger and horrible grief with me for two years afterward. My family was dead, my dreams were dead. My present, my future, my hope—everything was gone. I had nothing. Thankfully one of my professors came to visit me at the hospital. She thought maybe one day I’d change my mind about acting. She thought I should at least keep my foot in the door, so she gave me the number of Sebastian, a man she knew in the makeup business. I’m glad she came, because without her and Sebastian, I’d have had no future.
“So, almost a year after the fire, after rehab and all the surgeries, when I felt and looked almost human again, I called Sebastian. He said my professor had talked me up and that he’d take me on as his apprentice, but only if I could show promise. He flew me out to California for what amounted to an audition. Turns out I had a knack for making ugly things pretty and beautiful things more so. I worked with him for a year and a half before I got the job here with the studio. I moved to Enchantment right away and haven’t looked back since. Until now.”
“I don’t even know what to say,” Rogan confesses. I see all sorts of tightly controlled emotions on his face, but there’s only one I’m searching for. It’s why I understood him that day in the makeup room when I first saw his scars.
“You see why I didn’t pity you when I saw your scars? I knew how you felt. I knew that pity is like acid for people like us. It eats away at what little there is left of our soul. I’d rather someone hate me or think I’m backward and shy and weird than pity me.”
“I don’t pity you. But I do pity that asshole ex of yours if I ever run into him.”
I shake my head. “He’s not worth it. He’s not worth another second of my misery. I gave him too much already.”
“Sometimes we don’t give it. Sometimes people take it when we aren’t looking. It’s like they rip it out and by the time we realize it, the damage is done.”
“Is that how you feel about your father?”
“In a way. It’s like we were an okay family, and then, before I even knew that we were broken, he’d already stolen something from me. Something I couldn’t get back.” He looks off into the distance behind my shoulder, lost in time, falling silent for several seconds before he turns his eyes back to mine. “The thing is, we can still survive. Even if pieces are scarred. Or dead. Or even missing. We can still survive. We can still live.”