The Scars That Broke Her

Chapter 17

It took little to no time for Tate to convince Cale to allow me to go to the beach – much to my dismay. It seems that my dear brother likes to avoid his problems as much as I do.

Figures.

He left to go to the gym this morning without so much as a word to me. Not that I'm complaining. Not talking to him was my idea from the very beginning. It only seems to be causing problems. For both of us. This morning was rather relaxing without Cale's knowing eyes.

That relaxation, however, only lasted a few minutes because before I knew it Callan's jeep pulled into the driveway ushering Tate and I along. Tate, as one could assume, was quite excited for the beach. He loved being outside and with friends. I, however, could not seem to match that excitement. Instead, I was riddled with stress and worry.

As much as I tried to stop, my mind could not stop racing. It would not stop replaying my fight with Cale. As much as I tried not to, I couldn't help but feel bad.

Did he deserve the silent treatment?

No.

Did he deserve me yelling at him?

No.

Did he deserve me throwing a plate...

Definitely not...

He didn't deserve any of that. And I wish I could apologize. I wish I could tell him I felt bad. I wish I could tell him that the reason I was already on edge was because of Eli...the person who he had told me was bad news. The person he told me to stay away from...The person who gave me a bruise. I wish I could tell him that he was right and I was wrong.

I bit my lip, my fingers snapping the rubber band against my wrist. My nose crinkled slightly at the sensation. I snapped it again, anything to distract my brain from all the work it was doing.

I want to see you tonight. As if on cue, Eli's text flashed across my phone sending a wave of nausea through me.

"Noa..." Tate's body turned from the front seat to face me, concern flashing through his eyes.

"Huh?" I snapped out of my thoughts. I didn't even realize the car had parked or that Callan had gotten out. How long have we been here?

"Are you okay?"

"Uh...yeah, I'm fine." I cleared my throat. "Sorry."

My eyes glanced down at my phone. Do I respond? That was a silly question. Of course, I do. No telling what would happen if I didn't. He already gave me one bruise; he would no doubt give me another.

Just as I reached my conclusion, Tate's fingers grasped my phone pulling it from my lap. Panic flashed through my system as I watched Tate pocket my phone – I was 100% grateful that he did not read the message, that would definitely ruin his mood.

"No phone." His hand reached out, gently placing it on my wrist stopping my anxious movements. My eyes slowly found his light blues staring at me intently. His gaze was gentle, caring, concerned. He knew my mind was racing, he could tell by my frantic eye movement. His voice was quiet and soothing when he spoke, "Just breathe."

He took a deep breath, nodding his head and ushering me to do it with him. I filled my lungs with air, stopping when there was no room left. After a moment, when it felt like my lungs were burning, I let out a deep breath.

"No stress." Tate spoke again offering me a small smile. "Just be in the present."

Easier said than done big guy.

But I nodded anyway.

"Ready?"

I nodded again, fighting against everything in my mind that told me to snap my rubber band.