Scar

"Come take a look at something," I bark at Doc who's just finishing up his dinner in the dining room. Cross, Roxie and Lily are having theirs too, way on the other side of the room. Roxie looks at me like she's about to say something, but doesn't once she spots my bandage.

"What the hell happened?" Doc asks with his mouth full, staring at the bandage on my arm. Blood seeped through while I rode back, and despite what I told Lynn, I know that it's more than a scratch. But fuck her. Well, I wish I could, but that's not gonna happen.

I gave it one last shot, but it's all inviting looks followed by a-don't-you-dare-touch-me attitude with her and a crap ton of mixed messages in between. She was scared of me when we were in the woods together. She fought me off like an injured animal when I kissed her. I might as well cut my losses while I'm ahead.

"Finish your dinner and meet me at the infirmary," I say and walk back out the room.

Cross looked my way when I spoke to Doc, glanced at the bloody bandage on my arm then at me and went right on eating. He'll want to know what happened later, but for now he's content that I'm handling it and he, for one, never asks needless questions at the wrong time. It's why I'd follow him anywhere and lay my life on the line for him anytime. Which might happen sooner rather than later, since I'm an accident prone motherfucker. I was born that way.

"Scar, wait up," Doc calls after me, jogging to catch up. "It looks bad. What happened? Was it a bull?"

He chuckles as he asks the last question, but turns serious as he glances at my face. I'm not in a good mood tonight. Not even close. Mostly because my cock is still throbbing from that kiss I wish Lynn had returned for longer than half a second, and the dog bite is starting to throb now too.

Being in pain always makes me want to fuck. And right now, no other woman but Lynn will do. At least, I'm not riding anywhere else tonight for anyone else other than her. But she doesn't want it that way, she made that clear now.

"Dog bite," I say through gritted teeth and continue striding towards the infirmary.

He overtakes me and has the glaring white lights on before I even walk in. This place always smells like a hospital, and I hate the smell, especially when it's mixed with the smell of blood. It always reminds me of the day they stitched up my face. You'd think I'd be over it by now, after all the blood I've bled and let from others, but I guess you never forget your first.

The smell grows worse as Doc opens up a bottle of peroxide.

"Let me see," he says and I sit down next to the examination table, since I'm in no mood for lying down on it.

"She wrapped it up pretty well, that beauty queen of yours," he muses as he slowly unwraps my bandage.

"Shut up and do your thing," I snap, since I'm in no mood for anyone's wise cracks either.

He glances at me, turns serious and gets back to work in silence. My arm is throbbing from the bite, especially once the cold air hits it, but I hardly feel it over my anger.

I always get angry when I don't get what I want, be it sex, money or information from someone. It helps with my job. And I wanted Lynn very much for a very, very long time, but couldn't have her, and I only fully realized that the second I kissed her. Lizard took her away from me twelve years ago, so I let it go because I had no choice. But now she's free, and she’s here and I'm here, and she's more fucking gorgeous than ever and…what? She pushes me away when I try to kiss her after doing her best to spend lots of time with me and checking me out all day.

Doc clears his throat and looks up at me from examining the bite. "I want to stitch this up, but since it's a dog bite I don't wanna take any chances. I'm gonna disinfect it first and it's going to hurt. You want something for the pain?"

I grimace at him. "Yeah, right, when have I ever needed something for the pain? Just do it."

The pain's gonna be a nice distraction from my anger at Lynn. I didn't even wait for her to say no outright, just like I didn't last night after that dinner, because I don't wanna hear it. Especially now that I know how much I want her. But I already knew the answer was no, because I could smell fear on her when we were alone in the woods. And later when I held her for a second too long.

Doc got a silver-colored basin from somewhere and tells me to put my arm into it. He doesn't say anything, just glances up at me right before pouring what feels like liquid fire over my wound. It burns so bad I'm surprised not to see melted flesh when the pain finally lets up. But I make no sound. I'm used to pain, we're old buds.

"Ten stiches will do it, I think," he muses as he gets to work, producing a curved needle and black thread.

I look away. I can't stand the sight of that black thread. I got enough of looking at it all over my face.

"So apart from this mishap, how did it go today?" he asks after awhile.

"I should've given it a miss," I say truthfully, since even my anger is now dulled by the sleepy aftermath that extreme pain always brings. "She's not interested."

I said it more for my own benefit so I'd hear it said out loud and make it more of a fact that way, but he perks up.

"Yeah, I heard what the Spawns did to her and how you recued her," he says. "Figures she'd be messed up from it."

"What, you've all been sitting around gossiping about me and Lynn all day like a bunch of hens?" I snap.

He shakes his head as he finalizes the last stitch. "Roxie told me the story. She was real happy to hear that woman was OK. Apparently she remembers the abduction, since it was in her home town, and it shocked her very much at the time. Especially since no one was punished for it."

"Yeah, well, they've been punished now," I say. "As for Lynn being OK, that's a stretch."

Doc nods thoughtfully again then starts bandaging up my arm. "Complex PTSD probably. You’re generally OK and can function normally, but there’s triggers that can send you spiraling out of control without warning. Most psychiatrists don't know how to treat it, which is why she might still be suffering the aftereffects of what she went through."

"So now you're a shrink too?" I snap. "It all sounds like mumbo jumbo to me."

"I'm not a shrink, but I have personal experience with it," he says rather defensively. "I'm just saying, she probably needs patience. Not sure you're the guy to give it to her though."

He's right. I have no patience for women, especially not ones that reek of fear when they're alone with me, and push me away when I kiss them. Life's too short for that kinda crap.

"She needs to figure out what she wants, that's all," I say and get up since he's done with my arm. "Any more advice, or can I go?"

He shrugs. "Keep the bandage clean and I'll take your stitches out in seven days. Try not to rip them by bumping into anything."

There's some sort of a double meaning in that, but I don't get it. Why the hell would I bump into anything? It’s certainly not gonna be Lynn, if that's what he's implying.

I'm staying right here until my arm heals, and I'm certainly not gonna rake up any more of my past. It's always better for the past to stay forgotten. You'd think I'd know that by now.

* * *

Lynn

I stayed up with Scrap until past midnight, petting him and keeping him company because he just wouldn't fall asleep. His leg got ripped up badly by the trap, and the bone was broken too. Tammy said is was a clean break and would heel just fine, but I still worried. So worried, I called my mom and told her I was spending the night at the ranch.

Poor Scrap has been through so much. It was touch and go for awhile when he first came to us here, especially since he was so scared of people it took a whole month of coaxing before I was able to pet him. We left him food all over the forest around here, which is how he got his name, since he stayed alive on scraps. I was the only one he'd allow to pet him for months and he's still wary of most people. He's my dog through and through, and I'd take him home with me in a heartbeat, but my mom's terrified of dogs, especially big ones. I hate that this happened to him.

But making sure Scrap was well wasn't the only reason I decided to spend the night at the ranch. I also stayed because I didn't want to be alone and think about what happened with Scar.

At first, I was angry at him for just kissing me, just like that, then leaving in a huff when I pushed him away—as I was perfectly right to do! —but that morphed into sadness very quickly after he was gone. And when I get sad, the regret, depression and "why me?" thoughts settle in, and those have the power to take me under for a long time, if I let them. I'm not strong like my mom, I can't deal with things head on, my only real coping power is being able not to think about things I don't want to think about.

Going home last night would give me time and space to think about all those things, and that’s what I would’ve done. So I slept on the cot in the back room where I patched Scar's arm up earlier. I could hear Scrap breathing from in there, and that made it easier to fall asleep.

But even with everything else to worry about, my first thought when I woke up before dawn was sadness. Sadness at knowing that I'll never be able to return to the life I once had, or be the person I once was. I already knew that, I figured it out a long time ago, and I've come to terms with it. But Scar coming back showed me exactly what that abstract idea means in broad daylight.

There was also hope that he'd come again today anyway, realizing what he did was an asshole move and apologizing. Then we could talk about it. But what would I say? "Hey, sorry, your kiss made me physically ill, but let's just be friends, OK”?

Yeah, right.

Even if I put that into milder terms, it wouldn’t go over well. He's a man of action, a man in the most primal sense of the word—he showed me as much yesterday with the way he handled Scrap—and I'm sure mental problems like the ones I have aren't something he understands. He won't change, but I won't change either. Our path together was severed and split a long time ago, and there's no returning to the crossroads to start over.

It's almost noon now, and I'm still waiting to hear the rumbling of his bike approaching, that tiny light of hope I woke up with still shimmering in my mind, even though I know it's for the best that I forget him.

He was my hero and my savior a long time ago, my knight in shining armor, when I needed him most, and I will be forever grateful to him for that. But, he's also exactly the type of man I fear the most, and I can't give him what he wants.