Free Cheaters Anonymous by Lacey Silks

groceries, and utilities. After all, I owed her my life. Zoey had saved me before we left Washington. She’d used her trust fund money to pay off a debt I’d be stuck with for the rest of my life. However, the past few months, while Zoey supposedly looked for a new job, I felt like we’d grown further apart.
    Maybe I should cut back some hours at work?
    She was barely ever home, and no longer looking for a job to replace the one she’d lost over a year ago. I was afraid she was still struggling with the fact that she’d lost her position at the studio and couldn’t find anything comparable.
    Another full-fisted bang sounded.
    “I’m coming,” I growled. I pulled on my robe, cursing the visitor for making me get out of bed this early.
    “Who is it?” I asked.
    “Jules, it’s me. Open the door.”
    I wiped the crust out of my sticky eyes, double-checked through the peep hole, and pulled on the handle. When I opened the door I wished I’d at least combed my hair. Scar stood on top of the staircase, a grin of deluded happiness stretching across his face. He wore what appeared to be the same white shirt he’d had on the previous night, with the top three buttons undone and sleeves rolled up, showing off part of that sexy rose tattoo. Scar took my breath away. His disheveled hair only added extra oomph to his gorgeous look. This man was an utter mess in the most beautiful way possible.
    “Do you know what time it is? Didn’t you work last night? How did you get up so early?”
    “I never went to sleep.”
    What?
    “Thank God you’re not working. I didn’t think you would be, being a doctor and all, and since you had a late night I figured you’d be home and I’ve been waiting in my car for a couple of hours because I didn’t want to wake you too early...”
    I tuned him out and peeked back into the kitchen to double-check the time. Three minutes after nine.
    Too early?
    Coming off a night shift, this felt more like midnight to me.
    “Come in, please.”
    Scar was still blabbering something about a rough night and not concentrating and women hitting on him once again. He didn’t even pause between the sentences. His pupils were dilated, and he couldn’t shut up.
    “Would you like some coffee?” I asked. Or Prozac?
    “Please.”
    I filled in the pot and set the machine to brew.  “Is everything okay? How did you know where I lived?” I didn’t recall giving him my address last night.
    “You’re listed.”
    Right.
    “I couldn’t even find the strength to go home, Jules. I’ve been thinking about you, actually about us, the entire night, and I knew that if I went home I wouldn’t be able to sleep with everything that I wanted to say to you.”
    Scar without sleep was definitely the same as Scar on ecstasy. Not that I’d ever seen him high on drugs, other than weed. Scar never touched anything else.
    “You need to slow down a bit, Scar. I have to change and have a cup of coffee before my brain begins to function. Zoey’s still sleeping so keep it down. Wait for me here?”
    “Sure.”
    I rushed upstairs, jumped in a quick shower, pulled on a pair of sweats and a tank top, tied my hair back in a ponytail, and came back down. In my kitchen, wearing my apron that said What happens in the kitchen, stays in the kitchen , Scar was flipping pancakes. A bowl of sliced mango and pineapple along with two cups of steaming coffee were set up on the side. I didn’t remember the last time anyone had prepared breakfast for me. This was a completely different man than the one I’d known. I remembered him being served breakfast at home as if he were the prince. But I guessed that was a normal thing when you had a personal butler and a mother who wanted to outshine the help every chance she got. This man appeared more independent; and seeing him slide across the kitchen floor, from the table to the sink, he was the definition of living your life to the fullest.
    What the heck happened?
    He pulled another