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She doesn't talk about the red, puckered line down her right thigh. It pains her, on occasion, and the orange pill bottles in her medicine cabinet is a testament to how deep the scar runs, in more ways than one.
The first time Tyler sees the scar, he doesn't make a fuss- just continues his path up her torso and captures her mouth. Kate sinks her fingers into his hair, holds him closer, and rocks her hips down onto his thigh, grateful for the way he doesn't ask questions.
The first few times they go to bed, the long, ragged scar is practically ignored, and Kate likes it- until she begins to wonder why he doesn't seem to care enough to ask. It niggles at her brain, whittling away at her subconscious until one night when they’re curled up together, skin to skin, his fingers trailing along the bumps of her spine.
“You haven’t asked about it.”
Her voice is quiet, unaccusing, and he just hums, eyes closed and head tipped up towards the ceiling. Kate rolls into him slightly, chin on his chest, and waits until he peers one eye open at her.
“You haven’t asked about it,” she repeats, and Tyler arches an eyebrow as his palm flattens against her shoulder blade. “The scar.”
“Didn’t seem like you wanted to talk about it. So we’re not talking about it,” he replies, and Kate’s eyebrows knit together, a frown curling her lips.
“Do you not want to know?”
“Did I say that?” he returns, and there’s a kind of patience in his voice that no one’s ever really bestowed on her when it came to her injury, to her past- to her life in general. “I’m not going to push you, Sapulpa. That’s not what this is about. It’s your pace, your wants- your needs. If you wanna tell me about it, I will listen with my full attention. But until you’re ready to tell me about that scar, and everything it means…I’m not gonna ask.”
Kate blinks, and lets the words settle in her gut, mulling them over.
“Thank you,” she finally settles on, and Tyler brushes a kiss to her forehead before sinking back into the pillows, getting comfortable, eyes closing once more.
They’re quiet for a little while longer, enjoying the tick and swish of the ceiling fan above them, cooling the room. Kate’s fingers spiderweb over his torso, cataloguing every twitch of his muscles, and keeps her cheek pressed to his chest as their breathing falls into sync.
“My boyfriend’s name was Jeb,” she starts quietly, and she can feel the way Tyler gives her his full attention, even from his position beneath her. “We’d been together for…for years. Since undergrad. And he was with me, every step of the way, while I worked on my idea.”
Kate pauses, considering, and doesn’t stop the tracing of her fingertips over Tyler’s bare chest.
“He was sheltering me, at the underpass,” she whispers, and feels her body instinctively tense as the words slip past her lips. “And then- and then suddenly he wasn’t. He was just gone, even though he promised everything was going to be okay.”
She doesn’t realize she’s crying until Tyler tips her head back, locking their gazes, and strokes a thumb down her cheek, dispelling the tears that had begun to fall. She takes a breath, sniffling, and leans into Tyler’s touch.
“I started that day with four friends and a dream,” she murmurs, and presses her fingers to the beat of Tyler’s heart. “I ended it with this scar, and three less friends alive. And a feeling like my dream would never become reality.”
Kate blinks again, pushing away the tears, and shrugs one of her shoulders and looks up at Tyler, smiling tremulously.
“And then I met you,” she whispers, and Tyler’s hand cups her face, giving her something to lean into, letting her nuzzle her cheek into his palm. “And now I have dreams again.”
Tyler’s smile lights something up inside her where she’d once felt so hollow, so alone- so brittle- and she pulls herself up to press their mouths together. His hand sinks into her hair, holding her close, and she grins against his mouth, feeling him grin in return and haul her closer.
His fingers cup her thigh, and then his thumb drags down the jagged line bisecting the upper half, and Kate shivers- but not in an unpleasant way. Tyler’s touch is gentle, light, and he keeps kissing her in a way that’s guaranteed to distract her if he keeps doing it.
“Thank you for telling me,” he murmurs later, once they’re sweaty and sated once more, and Kate hums, knuckles against his breastbone and eyes sunk shut in exhaustion. “Get some sleep, Sapulpa. Earned it.”
Kate snorts, amused, and snuggles in deeper, thigh slung over his hip- and when Tyler’s fingers stroke her scar, it doesn’t feel ugly.
It doesn’t feel ugly at all.