Battle Scars

Chapter 7:

Jay

Leah walks away, and I'm left staring at my half-empty coffee cup, trying to untangle the mess in my head. She's been here less than a full day, and somehow, I already can't stop thinking about her.

I remember what Nate said about her past—that she's been through things no one should have to deal with. He didn't give specifics, and I didn't press for them. It felt like crossing a line, and if there's one thing I know how to do, it's respect boundaries. But now that she's here, it's impossible not to notice the cracks beneath her surface. Little things—like the way she checks the locks twice, the way she pauses just a beat too long when someone asks her a question, and that haunted look that flickers in her eyes when she thinks no one's watching.

None of it matches up with the girl I'm seeing on the outside. The girl who wakes up early, likes too much creamer in her coffee and doesn't hesitate to throw out blunt comments that catch me off guard. She seems so strong, so damn sure of herself. But those little things don't fit with that picture. And that leaves this weird, tight feeling in my stomach every time she's around.

It kept me up most of the night. I laid there, staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the nagging question in my head: What plagues her nightmares enough to keep her from sleeping? And what is it that leaves her looking like she's carrying the weight of something she can't put down?

I shouldn't be thinking about her like this. She's Nate's sister—someone I barely know. I should keep my distance, and let her handle whatever it is she's dealing with on her own. I'm not the type to get caught up in someone else's mess, especially when it's none of my business. I've been through enough of my own shit to know that prying never helps.

But damn it, there's something about her that keeps drawing me in. I shouldn't want to know what's behind that guarded look or feel this pull to figure out the puzzle she's hiding beneath the surface. And it's pissing me off that I do.

I finish my coffee and set the mug down harder than I mean to. I know better than to let myself care like this. I've spent years keeping my life simple, keeping my head clear of other people's problems. Getting involved with Leah, even just being curious about her, is a line I shouldn't cross.

But she's got this way of challenging me without even trying. Like she's daring me to look closer, to see more than what's on the surface. And I hate that it's working. I don't want to care. I don't want to know what she's been through or why she looks like she's fighting a war every time she closes her eyes.

But I do care. More than I should.

I push my chair back and stand, needing to move. Needing to clear my head. A run might help, or maybe lifting some weights until my muscles burn. Something to remind me of where the lines are, and why I need to stay on my side of them.

As I head down the hallway, I hear Leah's voice behind her door. It's soft, frustrated, and the tone makes something in me tense up. I shouldn't be listening, but I can't help it. I want to know what's going on, what she's dealing with that leaves her sounding like she's carrying more than she can handle.

But I keep walking, forcing myself to ignore it. Shutting the door to my room a little harder than necessary, trying to shut out the noise in my head. I shouldn't be letting this get to me. I shouldn't let Nate's sister get under my skin, shouldn't feel this need to protect her or fix whatever's broken inside her.

But the truth is, I can't stop thinking about her. About what Nate said, and what he didn't say. About the little things I'm noticing that don't fit with the girl sitting across from me, smiling over too-creamy coffee and throwing me off balance with every blunt word she says.