Page 45 of Pretty Little Scars

I walk to her but don’t touch her because I don’t want to upset her.

“You can touch me,” she says, as if she’s reading my mind. “You never have to ask.”

“Thank fuck because I need to get my hands on you.”

I hug her from behind, my arms wrapped around her chest, and plant my lips in her hair, breathing her in.

“That won’t ever fucking happen again.”

“I know.”

Her voice is smaller now, and I can feel her start to shake again, and it tears at me. God, she was here alone with that piece of shit, and it’s all my fault. My gut told me not to leave her here, but I did anyway, and I should be punched just as badly as Peter was.

“Are you finished with Jed?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’m going to take you inside and cook you dinner, and then I’m going to put you in a bath. I’ll also pour us both some whiskey. Not necessarily in that order.”

“That sounds really nice. Can we have a fire later?”

“I might have to distract you from the fire, but yes.”

“Ooh, you can distract meatthe fire.”

I laugh and kiss her hair again. “Let’s go get started.”

CHAPTER TEN

DARBY

“Where did you learn to cook like this?” The two shots of whiskey, along with being with Tucker, have calmed my nerves, and now I can’t get enough of the salmon with wild rice and steamed veggies that Tucker made. He just whipped it up like it was nothing.

And it’sdelicious.

It’s also hot as hell to watch Tucker move around in the kitchen, as if he’s a trained chef and this is his domain.

“Was it your mom?” I ask, and take another bite of rice, humming as the flavors explode on my tongue.

“No, she bailed right after Ava was born.”

He has his back to me, putting leftovers in the fridge, and I lower my fork to my plate and stare.

Why don’t I already know this story?

Ava’s never spoken of it. Of course, I was gone for a long while, and I’m from Bitterroot Valley, not Silver Springs, so I probably wouldn’t have heard the gossip.

He turns around and sees my face and immediately looks worried. “What’s wrong?”

“You—” I lick my lips. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

He sighs and tosses a rag in the sink, then takes a bite of his own fish, chewing as he watches me. “I guess we all have baggage, don’t we?”

I don’t smile. I just wait because I can be patient like him. I can wait for him to feel comfortable enough to talk to me.

And finally, he says, “From what I understand, she’d been having an affair with a guy in town for a while. Dad had a paternity test done to make sure Ava’s his, which she is. I mean, she looks just like Dad, but—” He shrugs, and I nod.

“I get it.”