Scars (Going All the Way 3)

She noticed the change in his voice, his demeanor. He seemed... annoyed.

He searched her face with his eyes, moving down her neck, over her body. It wasn’t anything sexual, but more so as if he were examining her, seeing if she was injured.

Hannah slowly shook my head. “Yes, a man. But he wasn’t hurting me, not physically at least.”

Not yet.

This was certainly not a situation she ever saw herself in. She didn’t think anyone would be so willing to help her.

“Okay. I’ll help. No hospital. No cops.” He inhaled slowly and exhaled deeply. “You need my help… you got it.”

She was stunned and couldn’t speak for long moments. “Why?” she asked, but he didn’t respond right away. “Why are you willing to help me? You don’t know me.”

There was a minute of tense silence. She could see in his expression that his mind was working.

“Because there have been too many times where I haven’t wanted to be found. Maybe too many times to count where I was running.” His focus stayed trained on her, his words hanging heavy between them. “Like now.”

She exhaled and felt this relief fill her. Hannah didn’t know this man, but then again, she felt like she did.

He straightened and then a second later stood. “How about we get you something to eat, and then we can figure out what the next step is?”

Hannah nodded, not sure what to say. He was willing to help her, no questions asked, not really. She’d never met anybody who would have done that for her. And as she watched Scars, something in her chest tightened.

It was slightly uncomfortable, but more so, it gave her… hope.8Scars sat in the recliner across from the couch, a cup of coffee resting in his lap, his fingers curled around the ceramic.

And he just watched Hannah sleep.

After he made her a big meal, she’d fallen back to sleep. He covered her up with another blanket, this protective side of him rising up stronger than he’d ever felt. She was scared, running from someone or something, and all he wanted to do was make sure she was safe.

And he didn’t know why he felt so strongly about this.

He hardly knew her, but that would change.

He wanted to know who was hurting her… who had hurt her. He wanted to make him pay, suffer.

He wanted them to know the type of fear she was feeling.

He brought his coffee to his mouth and finished it off, his focus on her chest as he watched it rise and fall with her steady breathing. She had to be exhausted. She’d been sleeping for hours, her body clearly needing this reprieve. He’d been monitoring her, worried about her having a concussion from the head injury. He refused to rest himself until he knew she would be fine.

Scars wanted to find out all the information on Hannah so he could protect her, keep her safe. This was all so fucking foreign to him, something he’d never quite experienced with anyone aside from his daughter or her mother. But the latter had been so long ago, and he’d never felt this burning intensity to keep her close.

He’d never felt like he’d been missing a part of himself without her in his life.

But staring at Hannah… he felt that.

He pulled his brows down low. He would’ve died for Stella’s mother, nearly had, but that had been emotions tied to someone who had given him the most important thing in his life… his daughter.

What he felt as he watched Hannah sleep?

All he could do was shake his head at his foreign feelings.

He stood and walked over to the sink, rinsing out the mug and setting it on the rack. He braced his hands on the edge of the counter and stared at the small window, the thick line of trees surrounding the cabin on three sides.

He had to assume whoever she was running from would want to find her. If not, she wouldn’t be afraid to go to the hospital. She wouldn’t be trying to escape.

He turned and leaned against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest. He made his way back over to the recliner and sat down, resting his head on the leather cushion but keeping his focus locked on her. She shifted slightly, a small sound leaving her as she dreamed. She moaned a little louder and shifted again, and he could see strain start to morph her delicate features.

Another sound came from her, this one a little bit harsher before she started moving her head back and forth. He found himself out of the recliner and walking toward her before sitting on the coffee table and reaching out and placing his hand on her arm.

She instantly turned her head in his direction, that stress on her face vanishing, her features relaxing. His chest clenched, this unknown feeling consuming him. What was it about this woman that turned him upside down so thoroughly, so instantly, that he couldn’t think, didn’t feel like himself?