Scarred Beautiful by Beth Michele Read Free Book Online Page A

her.
    “I was with Caleb, and if he isn’t the sweetest thing.” She pauses and exhales a breath. “And so sexy, too.” She touches her fingers to her lips. “Oh my God, Fran, the guy can kiss. I honestly could have kissed him all night.”
    I can’t help but smile, she’s acting like a girl who just had her first date. “ So, I ask again, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you off kissing Caleb?”
    “I guess I wanted to play a little hard to get.” She lets out a huge groan. “But now, I’m kind of regretting my decision.” She puts both arms over her face, covering her eyes. “Now I’m all hot and bothered.”
    I laugh, slapping her leg, and she flinches. “Well, can’t do much for you there, I’m not into girls.”
    She lifts her arms away, revealing a smirk. “Ha ha. So what happened with you and Mr. Broody?”
    “Mr. Broody,” I repeat, mulling the name over in my head. “Nothing. He just escorted me upstairs. That’s it.”
    Peyton leans up on her elbows, glaring at me. “You didn’t even kiss the guy?”
    “No. It’s not that I didn’t want to, though. He’s all kinds of hot with a dab of uptight. I like teasing him to see if I can get a rise out of him.”
    She quirks a brow, her lips curving into a grin. “Oh, I’m sure you could get a rise out of him.”
    Our laughter engulfs the room and I lie down on the bed next to her. My robe shifts, her fingers accidentally grazing the burn scars on my thigh, and she blanches, bolting upright, her eyes wide in shock. I hold my breath, wanting to avoid this, desperate to run.
    “What happened, Fran?”
    Peyton and I have only been roommates for a short time and I’m very careful that she doesn’t see my scars. I don’t know why, really. I guess it’s because I hate having to explain myself all over again and dredge up painful memories I’d rather leave behind. I’ll never leave them behind, though, because they’re always chasing me, threatening to expose my secrets at every turn.
    I immediately slide off the bed, covering my legs with my robe, keeping my face hidden. “It’s nothing, really. I need to get to sleep, Peyton. You should probably go.”
    She jumps from the bed and touches my elbow softly. “It doesn’t look like nothing, Fran. It looks like a whole lot of something. Who did that to you?”
    I take a deep breath, attempting to calm the wave of tension rolling through my body at having this conversation with her. The idea that she means well is in the forefront of my mind, although it doesn’t squelch the bile churning my stomach, making it impossible for me to get the words out. But I’m suddenly struck with what Gabby said to me her last night in our apartment. “Take another chance, Fran. You have to let someone in. Let someone care for you.” I don’t think she was referring to Peyton, but if I ever want our friendship to move to the next level then I at least have to try.
    Turning to face her, I gather some courage and say the two words that have always caused me nothing but pain and utter devastation, leaving my life in a state of ruin. “My dad.”
    “Jesus, Fran,” is the only thing she says before pulling me into a hug, wrapping her arms around me, comforting me. A single droplet slides down my cheek, the cheek of a twenty-eight year old woman who has undergone years of therapy yet still can’t manage to say those two words without tears.
    “I’m so, so sorry.” She squeezes me tighter before backing away to examine me. “Thank you for telling me,” she says, sincerity lacing the rich, brown depth of her eyes. “You know,” she starts, “when I was sixteen years old, my best friend Susie….” She hesitates as sadness spreads across her features. “She…she’d been physically abused by her uncle, and…she never got over it.” Her eyes pool with tears and then close briefly as if to blink away the pain. “She couldn’t handle it. She tried for so many years but it ate her up until she