With the sun behind me and facing her, I’m startled by her eyes. A brown so light that in the brightness they’re almost honey gold. In the span of second, I also can’t help but notice that she has scarring on the right side of her face near her jaw. It doesn’t take up much real estate, but it’s mottled and bumpy, and hard not to notice. It disappears down into the front of what I see now is a turtleneck shirt that is fitted to her body.
My eyes drift back up to hers to take in more of that amazing color but I find that she’s not looking directly at me anymore, her gaze averted off to the side. I also notice that she’s moved one hand across her belly, the other hovering near the color of the turtleneck that she fidgets with, attempting to pull it up higher over her scarring.
Fuck.
Did I make her self-conscious when I noticed the welted skin? It’s not something I did intentionally but I’m sure it doesn’t make it less bothersome to her. Despite the fact that her shirt is well fit to an admittedly amazingly beautiful body, I’m guessing it was chosen to help cover her scars.
The positioning of her arms and hands is defensive and her averted gaze is indicative that I’ve caused her to retreat.
I’m not one to hide from an awkward situation though, and I force conversation so she’ll have to look at me. “How was your trip here from Arizona? You came with your sister, right?”
She drags her eyes back to mine and puts a lackluster smile in place. Nodding toward the door I’d seen off the living area, she says, “Yes. Emory is in the bedroom with Baden trying to put the bed frame together if you want to go in.”
I decide to stay and converse. “And your trip out?” I ask, a reminder she didn’t answer my first question. “That’s a hell of a drive.”
“We broke it up into a three-day trip,” she replies quietly, letting her hands drop away and turning for the step stool. She climbs back on, reaches back into the box and pulls out another stack of plates without elaborating further.
It’s dismissive and I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. “I’ll just go see what Baden wants me to do. We’ll get you set up in no time.”
“Thank you,” she murmurs, placing more plates in the cabinet with her back to me. “I really appreciate it.”
My tone is easy as I turn from her. “Not a problem at all.”
And it’s not. I’m glad to help her out because she’s Baden’s friend and any friend of Baden is a friend of mine.
In the bedroom, I find Baden using the drill to drive a screw between the metal frame and the headboard. He lifts his head up and grins. “You made it.”
“I made it,” I agree, and turn to the woman who must be Jenna’s sister. I stick out a hand to the raven haired beauty with blue eyes—the exact opposite of her sister’s coloring of golden hair, skin and eyes. “You must be Emory. Nice to meet you.”
Emory stands up from where she was squatting beside Baden and we shake. “So great to meet you too. We really appreciate your help.”
We don’t bother with any further small talk. Baden and I get to work unloading the truck, using our considerable strength to work our way through the contents. There wasn’t a lot of furniture. Just a bedroom set with a bed, dresser and two night stands. The rest were boxes of clothes and kitchen ware—much of it newly bought in Arizona and loaded onto the truck to save her shopping here. Baden explained the bed was from Emory’s house and Jenna bought living room furniture online that will be delivered in a few weeks. Until then, the only other thing to sit on was a plush bean bag that we plopped in a corner of the living room. It was spartan living for sure, but I’m sure she’ll have it set up into a nice home in no time at all.
Baden and I head down to get the last round of boxes from the truck while the Holland sisters work to unpack the mountains of ones we already unloaded.
Before he can jump up into the truck, I stop him with a hand on his shoulder. “Need to ask you something.”
Baden turns to face me. “What’s up?”
“I’m pretty sure I offended Jenna when I got here,” I say, bothered by the fact that I’ve been here almost two hours and she won’t meet my eyes or engage with me at all. I explain to him what happened when I arrive. “I swear, man… I didn’t give any outward reaction to the scars. My eyes just sort of flicked there and then right back again, but she totally withdrew after that.”
“Yeah… I noticed she was acting shy around you.”
“She won’t even meet my eyes,” I grumble with frustration. “You know I’d never intentionally do something to hurt—”
Baden stops me with a soft punch to my shoulder. “Don’t even go there, dude. Jenna’s an amazing woman and I adore her, but I also know the type of man you are. I know you’d never do anything to make someone feel bad about themself.”
“I need to fix it,” I reply, determined to set things straight.
“You didn’t break anything,” Baden points out and I appreciate his efforts to make me feel better. “She’s had a lot of trauma in her life and it’s made her sensitive.”
I’ve been called a sensitive guy before, a moniker I don’t mind, and the squeeze of heart muscles proves it. “I have a feeling you’re talking about more than her scarring.”
“She was in a bad fire. She’s got a lot more scars than what little you saw—emotional and physical. She’s had a hard time putting herself out there because a lot of people abandoned her during her recovery. So it’s more than just what you can see on the outside.”
I hold my hand up, indicating he should stop. I don’t want him telling me confidences that aren’t his to tell. I also don’t need to hear more to know without a doubt I need to let her know I didn’t intend any harm when I looked at her scars.
“Arrange for me to have a few minutes alone with her,” I say as I help him pull the last two boxes off the truck.
He nods, picks the stack up by himself. “Stay here. I’ll send her down.”
I lean back against the side of the truck, hands tucked into my pockets and within no more than thirty seconds, Jenna is coming out the door with the truck keys in her hands. She doesn’t meet my eyes as I push off the truck but holds the keys out. “Baden said you needed the keys so you could move the truck away from the hydrant.”
I take them from her, not willing to let her know this was a set up by Baden so I could get some time alone.
Jenna starts to turn away, but I call out, “Wait.”
She stops, turns only part way and to the left to look back at me. It’s habitual I can tell, but clearly intended to keep the unmarred portion of her face between me and the damaged part.
I don’t know this woman at all, and I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again after today, but I know I’m not going to take the easy way out. I’m not going to let her either.
I step up onto the sidewalk, move around her so she’s forced to face me. I’m pleased to see she doesn’t hesitate to tip her head back to meet my eyes and I think that’s her own courage shining through.
“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable when I first walked in,” I say.