“I can understand your worry.” Brienne’s tone was neutral. “But it’s not my intention to put you in front of cameras. I have an actual press secretary, but I do most of the on-screen media myself.”
I sighed with relief, even knowing I was still going to have to put myself out there. While I might not have to be in front of cameras, working as the liaison meant I would be dealing with people.
But I couldn’t hide behind the computer the way I had been for the prior year while living with Emory and working as an editor.
This was all part of the Jenna 2.0 restructuring plan.
Putting myself out there.
Learning how to be a part of society again, because honestly… it’s lonely when I’m hiding.
“I think you’re going to do fabulous, and I’m so proud of you,” Emory says as she folds another T-shirt and places it in a pile on the bed.
“You’ve always had faith in me, and that’s given me courage,” I reply easily.
Emory has been by my side through my injuries and recovery, and she pushed me to move to Phoenix to get out of my comfort zone. If it weren’t for her, I’d still be hiding at our parents’ house where I landed after I got out of the rehab hospital.
It seems like a lifetime ago.
The fire changed everything in my life. I had an amazing career and the perfect relationship with a man I adored and his daughter, Chelsea, who held the biggest piece of my heart. We were a family, living together, as he split custody of Chelsea with his ex-wife. We’d discussed marriage, and I knew a proposal was forthcoming.
But then the fire happened, and I was lucky to escape with my life. My recovery was brutal. Weeks in a medically induced coma, dozens of painful skin graft surgeries, intense rehabilitation, more surgeries, and the mental strain of dealing with my disfigurement. The world sees the scarring on my jaw and neck, but they don’t see the worst—the scarring on my shoulders and the entirety of my back, butt, and portions of my legs. Puckered pink flesh webbed with pale white veins that I loathe to look at in the mirror.
But what I refuse to see, I must feel. While bathing, I have to run my fingers over the lumpy skin that they couldn’t fix, no matter how great the plastic surgeons were.
That’s the part of me nobody will ever see. And not because I’m inherently ashamed of myself—my parents taught me to be confident and that looks are only skin-deep.
No, it was my boyfriend, Paul, who destroyed my self-worth because he could barely look at me after. He couldn’t touch me.
And ultimately, he left.
All because of the way I looked.
It was an ugly lesson to learn… that our value to other people is tied to our physical appearance.
While it hurt that Paul couldn’t see past my disfigurement, it hurt worse that he removed Chelsea from my life.
I understand now that he was a coward. He tried to come up with a dozen different reasons that all rang hollow. However, in the end, he admitted that my burns were too much for him. It was something I’d ultimately forgive, but I couldn’t ever look past him keeping Chelsea from me. For two years, I had been in her life, and then after I was recovered enough to leave the hospital, he wouldn’t let me see her.
And again, my mind wanders back to Gage. I know it’s because he’s the first man since the fire who has paid me a compliment. It stings to know how much my vanity responds to that.
I actually think he was flirting with me.
Or he could’ve been trying to make me feel better by flirting, so maybe it wasn’t genuine.
No, I think it was genuine.
He seems genuine.
“Okay,” Emory says with irritation. I turn to look at her, eyebrows raised. “What is going on with you? You’re quiet and introspective. Which, okay, is totally Jenna-like. But you’re doing it with this weird smile on your face, and it’s freaking me out.”
I laugh because I imagine I am freaking her out by being quiet and smiling at the same time. It’s not something she’s seen for a very long time.
Emory is the one person I can always be truthful with, no matter if I’m a teensy bit embarrassed to admit, “I was thinking about Gage.”
“Oh, really?” she drawls, dumping the T-shirt in her hand back in the box. She sits on the edge of the bed to stare at me expectantly. “Tell me more.”
I shake my head with another laugh. “It’s not like that. At least, I don’t think it is. But I had a moment with him… a real moment. It was weird and refreshing, and I can’t stop ruminating over it.”
Emory leans forward, captivated. I move to sit beside her, and we angle in toward one another, our knees touching. “When he first walked into the apartment, his eyes went where everyone’s eyes go.”
Emory nods with a knowing expression. “And you withdrew and shut down. Blah, blah, blah. Heard and seen this story too many times to count.”
Clearly, my sister has had a few frustrations with me over the months as I work to regain my confidence. I ignore her snark, though. “But… he talked to me outside afterward, and he was so honest about it all. He admitted to looking at my scarring, but he said that wasn’t the first thing that caught his attention.”
Emory leans forward. “What was it?”
“My eyes.” I let out a tiny huff of breath. “He said he was more captivated by my eyes.”
Emory’s mouth drops open slightly. “He said that?”
I nod effusively, happiness within as I share this with my sister. “It doesn’t mean anything… but yes, a genuine compliment. And he was brutally forthright that he saw my scarring. He acknowledged it. Most people turn away embarrassed and want to brush it under the rug. But he saw it as part of me, and it didn’t bother him. It wasn’t the most important thing he saw. My eyes were.”
Emory regards me thoughtfully for a few beats before grinning. “He’s really a nice guy, I’ll admit. Baden speaks so highly of him. And… he’s incredibly gorgeous.”
I shrug as if I hadn’t noticed.
But I totally noticed.
He’s tall, well-built, and speaking of eyes… his are amazing too. He wears his dark hair well-trimmed and swept to the side, but he has the lightest hazel eyes that seem to be almost otherworldly. When he was standing outside apologizing, I couldn’t help but observe them myself. When he complimented me on my own peepers, I wanted to blurt out that his were beautiful, too, but then I would’ve died on the spot from mortification.
“He said he’s my first official new friend here in Pittsburgh,” I continue, trying to shift some of the focus away from the truth that I was completely taken by a man paying me a compliment. It doesn’t mean anything more than he’s just a very nice guy.
“I believe that,” Emory says with a smile and reaches over to hug me. “And you deserve all the friends. All the happiness.”
When she pulls back, she rests her hands on my shoulders and peers at me. “But you know, if this doesn’t work out for you, you can always come home to me in Phoenix. There is always a place for you at my side.”
“I know,” I reply softly, moving my hands over the top of hers. “And I love you for it. Just as I love you for letting me have this chance to fly.”