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“You burn yourself with them?”
When he nods, my throat swells with emotion, with the hurt that he’s felt so disparaged that he would maim his beautiful body.
“A couple of years ago, we got into a bad argument. It was the first and only time he was rough with me.”
Bile slithers up my throat, confirming my worst fears. “He hits you?”
“He backhanded me, just once. But it was my fault. I was running my mouth, pushing back too hard, and making him angry.”
His excuses for Silas splinter my heart.
“I know he felt awful about it, after. He swore he’d never let his anger get the best of him again, and he hasn’t.”
No, now Silas would rather run him ragged, breaking him like one of my father’s horses any time he steps out of line. And I’m sick with the knowledge that all this time, when I thought Logan was running for exercise, he was really being punished.
“He left the cigarette he lit in the ashtray on the porch, and when he went inside, I just snapped.”
Extending his arm, he points to a raised scar in the crook of his elbow. “I started marking my chest so it’s not as visible. Hard to hide, regardless, but… yeah.”
Tears fill my eyes, blurring the spot on his arm until I can’t see it any longer. If I disliked Silas before, I despise him now. “I’m so sorry.”
He tucks my naked body into his, careful where he presses my face. “Don’t cry for me, sunshine. It’s not so bad.”
A sob hitches in my chest. How can he possibly say that? How can he stand here with weeks’ old wounds and pretend to be fine when, clearly, he’s far from it.
Now I understand why he never wanted to remove his shirt when we swam, and why he lashed out at me the one time I tried to coax him into it.
“I hate him.”
“I do too sometimes.” His chest heaves with a weighted breath. “But I push the boundaries. I know I do, even if I don’t understand why.”
“That’s not an excuse,” I snap.
“You’re right. But unfortunately, knowing that doesn’t change anything. He’s my father, and for better or worse, I love him.”
We stand together, letting the quiet of the night wrap around us, and I so badly want to tell him it’s okay, but words are like band-aids—a flimsy, temporary fix for the pain Logan suffers.
“Then we should get you back.” I shudder to think of how Silas will punish him if he were to find us here, together. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
“After you drug me all the way out here just to have your way with me? No way.” I find a playful smirk dimpling his cheek when I glance up at him.
I swallow the knot in my throat when he brings those smiling lips to mine, remembering all the little ways he touches and keeps me close, and I think that maybe words aren’t what Logan needs right now.
He confirms my suspicion when he murmurs, “Can I lose myself with you? Maybe just for a little while?”
I nod furiously, breathing him in. “Whatever you need, it’s yours.”
A promise, a vow. The most sacred thing I can give, and he kisses me with the kind of vulnerable gratitude that makes my bones ache.
“Have you ever touched yourself, Penelope?” he asks huskily, moving his warm lips to the pulse throbbing in my neck.
“Y-yes.”
If he’s surprised, he doesn’t let on. “Can you show me?”
“Um, okay.” Nerves and excitement have my hand shaking, but I somehow manage to slip my fingers inside my panties.
Leaving his jeans and shoes on, he lowers to one knee, and his eyes capture mine from the floor. I’ve never had a boy so close to this part of me before.
