Free Man of Honor (Battle Scars) by Diana Gardin Page A

fuck her. Berkeley says Mea seems off, and she can’t figure out why. If you screw her up even more, I’m gonna get my ass handed to me by my fiancée.”
    I level my gaze at Dare. My expression is dead serious, because I don’t want there to be any mistaking my next words. “You can tell Berkeley not to worry. Mea is safe with me. And as for fucking her, I don’t think that’s anybody’s goddamn business.”
    Dare whistles low and long. “Defensive, are we?” He studies me closely, too close. I glance away and begin twisting my wrench on the bolt that’s holding the front fender on the bike.
    After a minute, I can feel Dare’s eyes leave me, and I can breathe again. He goes back to work, and so do I. There’s no more said about it. But that doesn’t mean thoughts of Mea aren’t swirling around in my head like mist. She’s not quite solid; I don’t think I can catch hold of her yet. But at some point, she’s going to be standing right in front of me, open and ready. At least that’s what I hope will happen. And when it does, will I be ready to lay it all out there? For her? Or will my own demons be dragging me under, to a place I can’t come back from?

Mea
    I glance at the speedometer. As usual, Mikah drives way too fast through the back roads that lead to the western side of Brunswick County.
    We’re headed to our aunt and uncle’s house. We aren’t close, but we keep in touch because Aunt Tay and Uncle Wes took us in when we had to leave our home in Kentucky as teenagers.
    “Slow down, Mikah,” I admonish him from the passenger seat. “I want to get there as a whole person, not in pieces.”
    Mikah glances over at me. The rap music blaring from his radio should drown him out, but his voice resonates with me like no one else’s, and I hear every word.
    “You’re barely a whole person as it is, little sis.”
    Glaring at him, I clench my fist and wave it in front of his face. “You little brat! I’ve taken you down enough times for you to know size doesn’t matter. Call me ‘little sis’ again and I’m gonna pound your face.”
    Mikah chuckles. At six feet tall, my little brother isn’t so little anymore. He’s the one person I would do anything for, and I proved it when I was fourteen and we moved to another state to stay with our aunt and uncle. We might fight every time we’re together, but I’d do anything for him, and him for me.
    “So what does Tay want to talk to us about?” Mikah drums one hand against the steering wheel as he drives. His short black curls, darker than mine but still so very similar, bounce as he does. We look so much alike. His complexion matches mine, and he has the same wide, full mouth. But Mikah’s eyes are the darkest, deepest green. I’ve always envied him those eyes, and they gain him no shortage of female attention. Skipping the college route, he became a longshoreman in Wilmington after he graduated high school a couple of years ago. But the girls on UNCW’s campus still found ways to get his attention whenever he attended their parties.
    “No clue.” I rest my head back against the cloth headrest. “But it must be important. We usually only go there on holidays.”
    He nods, or his head is bopping to the beat. I’m not sure which. We talk easily for the remainder of the twenty-five-minute ride, and when we pull into the long gravel driveway at the farmhouse where I spent my teenage years and Mikah lived since he was twelve, I let out a sigh.
    I always have mixed feelings returning here. My time at the farm was pleasant, because my aunt and uncle are kind. But the memories are always tinged with shadows and fear. While living here, I underwent several years of intensive therapy because of what my father put me through. And my aunt looks so much like my mom, I had a hard time dealing at first. I threw myself into school, becoming a member of the cheer squad and became best friends with Berkeley, but I had to watch my brother struggle to find his