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“That,” he growled, trailing his thumb over my cheekbone. “And that,” he added, skimming the curve of my eye.
The contact was so gentle that it caused me to jump from nerves rather than pain.
He dropped his hand from my face but remained exactly where he was standing, so close that I could see the vein ticking in his neck as he clenched and unclenched his jaw.
“Shannon, what happened to your face?”
“Oh, that?” Laughing nervously, I tucked my hair behind my ear.
I immediately regretted the action when I felt the snot-like drool squelch between my fingers and hair. It wasn’t bad enough to look like a homeless person; I had to go and add drool-soaked hair to the equation.
“Yeah, that,” Johnny bit out, glaring at my cheek. “Who did that to you?”
“Nobody. I fell over my brother’s Lego tower last night and almost poleaxed myself on the kitchen table.” The line I had rehearsed to perfection for school tomorrow spilled from my mouth with the expert precision needed to sound believable.
I had been telling lies for so long about where the cuts and bruises on my body came from that the lie poured effortlessly from my lips.
“You expect me to believe that?” Johnny stunned me by saying.
I frowned up at him.
That was a good line. It was a believable line.
Why wasn’t he taking it?
“Yes,” I strangled out, flustered by his directness. “Because that’s what happened.”
He arched a brow. “You’re honestly trying to tell me that you gave yourself a black eye?”
I shrugged noncommittedly. “It happens.”
“Not usually,” he bit out. “You must have been running full speed to smash yourself up like that,” he added, eyes locked on mine in disbelief. “Were you running?” he asked. “From something?” He stepped closer. “Or someone?”
Self-preservation roared to life inside of me, my three little brothers’ faces the driving force behind my next words. “What exactly are you trying to say?”
“I’m not trying to say anything here, Shannon,” he countered hotly. “I’m asking you to tell me the truth.”
“I am telling you the truth,” I snapped, voice breaking. “Stop pushing me.” Tears prickled my eyes and I quickly batted them away. “God!”
I felt terrible for lying to him especially, but I couldn’t exactly turn around and say, Oh yeah, when my dad’s full of drink, he likes to beat the shit out of me and throw me around like a rag doll.
It was at that exact moment that the skies decided to open above us, delivering an onslaught of pelting March rain and soaking us both.
Thankful for the downpour, I spun around and hurried back to the car.
“Don’t do that,” Johnny called after me. “Don’t go back in the bleeding car.”
I shook my head and yanked the door open.
“I’m sorry, okay?” Johnny reached around me and closed the car door again. “I won’t push you.” Spinning me around to face him, he said, “I won’t say another word about it.”
He reached out to touch my face but quickly diverted his movements, cupping the back of his neck instead.
“Okay?”
Nodding, I released a ragged breath. “Okay.”
Johnny exhaled heavily, expression full of relief. “Now, will you come inside with me?”
