Here lies the other half of the week's train writings.

Chapter 86

"I need to go shopping," I announced as Bobby entered the bedroom carrying two bottles of water. It was Thursday afternoon, and Joanne's bachelorette beach weekend started in a little over twenty-four hours, so I was packing now in case I needed to go shopping during my lunch break tomorrow. When I pulled out my bikini to add it to the bag, I thought it would be best to try it on, just in case. I'd had to update my wardrobe a fair amount since undergoing Brandon's special book camp because things were looser than they should be. Swimwear was one area where extra space almost certainly equalled embarrassment, especially when there were waves involved, so it was vital that my bikini fit right.

"Okay," Bobby agreed amicably, despite the fact that I'd tasked him discouraging me from shopping unnecessarily. He brushed a kiss on my lips as he passed on his way to the bed, pressing one of the waters into my hand before plopping down beside my weekend bag.

I shook my head. "You're not supposed to agree so easily," I reminded him. "You're supposed to make me consider whether I really need to go shopping or not."

He raised an eyebrow like he thought that was a stupid idea but played along anyway. "Why do you need to go shopping?" he asked.

Turning away from the mirror, I gestured to my ensemble, waiting a moment as he greedily absorbed the sight. After a moment, his gaze turned appraising and I waited a little longer to see if he would figure out what my problem was. Eventually, Bobby dragged his eyes back up to my face, searching for clues before raising his shoulders in a shrug.

"It's a bit big," I informed him, tugging on the areas where it gaped or dropped to demonstrate what I mean. "Which poses a risk of exposure. So I was thinking I should get a new bathing suit, but also," I turned to the side, gesturing to the other thing I wasn't entirely happy with. "There's this."

A frown creased his brow. "I don't see a problem."

Of course he didn't. Scars were just a thing to him. A fact of life. He'd seen and received too many to remain sensitive to their presence. Add to that fact that men seemed to have less qualms about the appearance of them on their bodies than women did and well… I sighed. "I need some board shorts or something to cover up this mess," I informed him.

"What mess?"

I pointed to all the scars on my thigh from the gun shot wound that broke my leg and the surgeries to repair the damage. It was, by far, the biggest mess of scar tissue I had on my body, even with the expert skill of the surgeon and the scar reducing ointments I'd been applying daily.

"That's not a mess," Bobby said seriously, setting his water down and reaching out to snag my hand, drawing me closer to him. "You've healed remarkably well for how banged up your leg was."

"But the scars-" I tried to protest, but he cut me off.

"The scars are evidence of the trials you have lived through," he implored, squeezing the hand still in his grip. "Your scars are a symbol of your strength." Feather soft fingers traced the symbols in question, sending a shiver down my spine. "If you need a new bathing suit because this one doesn't fit right, then fine, let's go shopping. But let me get one thing clear. You never need to hide your scars. Not from me. Not from the world. They're beautiful."

A derisive snort escaped my throat, which was apparently the wrong reaction, because in the next moment bobby had his hands on either side of my face. His grip was firm, but not threateningly so as he forced me to hold his gaze for several second before speaking.

"I mean it, Stephanie." Uh-oh, full name, things are getting serious. "There is nothing ugly or shameful about the scars on your body. You don't have to cover them up. You should feel comfortable in your own skin."

"And I do," I assured him quickly, trying to nod against his grip. "But-"

"No buts," he proclaimed, eyes at once intensely hard, and compassionately soft. "Buts mean overthinking and contradiction. Either you're comfortable and accepting of your scares and you're fine with letting the world see, or you're still working up to it and need more time to be comfortable with how you body looks. Either is perfectly fine, but you need to be honest with yourself." He paused, letting his words sink in as he gently released his hold on my face. "So tell me," he requested, twining his fingers through mine. "Do you want to cover it up because you yourself are not comfortable with the way it looks or because you're worried about what others will think?"

Rather than answer straight away with a knee jerk reaction, I took some time to really think about the issue and the points Bobby had raised. Was I entirely happy with the way my thigh looked at the moment? Short answer: no. But that didn't mean I wasn't coming to grups with it. The fact that my injury and subsequent surgeries occurred in fall meant that the majority of my recovery had occurred during the colder months. While I obviously knew what my leg looked like because of bathing etc, dealing with the way my scars looked wasn't a day to day priority, because the only people who ever saw them were me, Bobby and my doctors. Now that the weather was warming up, though, they were more likely to be at least partially exposed.

Since this weekend was my first occasion to wear anything that cut above the knee, it was perfectly natural, I thought, for me to feel self conscious about the way it looked to the rest of the world. But at the same time, I knew that I shouldn't let the opinions of others stop me from wearing what I wanted to wear. Which I think is what Bobby was trying to get me to realise.

I looked up from where I'd been staring at our hands while I mulled this over and met Bobby's eyes. "I think I just need some time to accept that I have these large scars and that they will, at times, be visible to others," I said slowly. "I'm… not exactly thrilled to have them, but I don't think I'm ashamed of them… It just an adjustment, mentally, which I hadn't really thought about before trying on the bikini."

He nodded his approval, a smile lightening the storm that had been brewing behind his eyes. "So what do you want to do about it at this point?" he asked.

"Buy a new bikini," I said firmly.

The smile in his eyes hooked the corners of his mouth, reeling them up to match their expression. "Is that all?" he checked. "It's okay if you feel the need for a cover up while you're still adjusting."

"I could use a donut, too," I admitted thoughtfully, effectively answering his question without answering his question. "And if you came with me, I might be persuaded to model some lingerie for you as well."

His smile expanded outwards into a full blown wolf grin, to show his approval of my suggestion, but the expression was in direct contrast to the next words that left his lips. "You don't need to bribe me with fancy underwear to get to go shopping with you," he said solemnly, bringing our still joined hands up between us so that he could press tiny little kisses to the tips of my fingers. "You convinced me with the mention of donuts."

*o*

Friday afternoon we met at Lula's house, geared up and roaring to go. Louis had decided that none of us could be trusted to be sober enough to drive home at the end of the weekend, so he'd offered to drive to be our personal taxi driver, booking a hotel room nearby the beach house we'd rented out so that he could be on hand in case we needed assistance and to drive our sorry asses home again on Sunday, otherwise he would keep to himself. It was incredibly sweet of him to do so and had the added benefit of easing the minds of everyone else's partners, Bobby included.

Naturally, the moment we arrived, the drinks came out, so by the time we were ready to hit the clubs that evening, everyone was well and truly sloshed. Much of the night was a blur, but we must have made it back to the beach house at some point after my memory cut out, because I awoke at eleven the next morning in the double bed I was sharing with Mary Lou with a splitting headache. Vowing to taking it easier today, I'd rolled out of bed and went in search of the pain relief Bobby had made sure I packed before padding out to the brightly lit kitchen.

The cure would have been great, but leaving the house to find the nearest McDonalds was beyond my abilities at the moment, so I was planning on just finding some bread for toast or something to soak up the residual effects of the alcohol last night. Lucky for me, though when I entered the kitchen Joanne's cousin and maid of honour, Lilly was at the stove cooking what appeared to be an unholy amount of bacon eggs.

"Coffee should still be hot," she informed me brightly, waving a hand to where someone – possibly her – had set out a row of mugs next to the coffee pot.

I nodded my thanks, incapable of verbal communication in my hungover state, filled a mug and slid onto a nearby stool to drink it. "Thank you," I croaked after several minutes of watching her and waiting for the caffeine to kick in.

"No problem," she said, waving me off. "I'm a den mother at TCNJ. My girls like to party hard, so I know how to take care of a houseful of hungover women, especially when they've got events during the day."

My eyebrows rose a bit at that, a step ahead of my verbal skills. "We have events today?" I'd assumed we'd just be drinking all night and leaving the day time hours to recovering and possibly exploring.

Lilly's eyes twinkled. "I organised a life drawing class for this afternoon. I thought Jo-Jo would appreciate that more than going to a strip club. Plus, we'll get to really commit every inch to memory."

I didn't doubt that, but I also didn't particularly feel the need to stare at a naked man and commit him to memory with what was waiting for me back home. Probably, Joanne didn't have any such qualms either, since Lester was equally ripped, but I couldn't deny the fact that Joanne was an artistic being, and would love the activity Lilly had organised.

"I'm almost done here," she said, taking a tray of hash browns out of the oven. "Would you mind rousing everyone? The model will be here in about an hour, so we need everyone up and at 'em."

By the time the model arrived, the drinking had started up again. I think some of the ladies were fond of the hair of the dog kind of hangover cure. It had never worked out well for me, so I stuck to the gloriously greasy breakfast Lilly had prepared and orange juice without the champagne. As the drawing started, more champagne kept pouring, and what started out as a sedate and mature drawing session that just happened to include a naked man in the centre of our circle of chairs, turned into a rowdy spectacle. Connie had decided that the portraits would look better if she was in them, stripped down right to nothing and sat in the model's lap. Her hands never stopped roving, which lead to them making out, and by the end of the session they were practically having sex right there in front of us. And she was mysteriously absent for the rest of the afternoon until we were ready to leave for our dinner reservation. No one asked what her afternoon had been like, but suggestive comments were made, and details were shared anyway.

We hit a few more clubs after dinner, but called it quits before we all lost our faculties this time, returning to house with the intention of watching Magic Mike and turning it into a drinking game. As we wound our way up the path, though, the porch light illuminated a well-built figure waiting for our return.

"Care Bear!" I exclaimed, racing forward and practically tripping up the steps toward him. He caught me as I reached the top and fell toward him. "What are you doing here!?"

"Picking you up, Boo Boo" he said with a laugh, tucking me into his side so I would fall over as he accepted the keys to the house from Lilly and unlocked the door. "Just like we planned, Lester's party is tomorrow, remember!"

I gasped. "Lester!" I exclaimed. How had I forgotten that his party was also this weekend? Luckily Bobby had not spent the weekend so far getting drunk, and had come to pick me up so we wouldn't miss it. "I have to help him celebrate," I told the girls, who had begun to grumble and protest the thought of me leaving the party early. "He's my brother from another mother!"


The next chapter will be the last. I have finally followed the story through to what feels like a natural end point. There will probably also be an epilogue if things work out the way I have planned.