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I don’t want to frighten her with the details. “Now and then.”
“You have scars, don’t you?”
Now, I hesitate. “They’ve mostly—”
“If they tortured you,” she interrupts me. “The scars wouldn’t have faded that much. I want to see them.”
“Kendall.” Now, I take a step back. “They’re not something you—”
“You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” She gives me a look that holds a wealth of pain and history. “I have my own scars, Caleb. Terrible, ugly things. I’ve never bared my back in public because of them. But I’m not ashamed of them.” Now, when she steps towards me, there is something different about her, as if she’s understanding how much power she wields in this relationship. “Are you ashamed of your scars, Caleb?” She looks stronger than before, more together, as if our reunion has filled in the gaps that were missing from her soul, as if I was all she needed to stand taller.
“Who gave you your scars?” I ask, my hand snaking around her back to smooth over it.
“A very bad man,” she whispers. “But I don’t regret them. I can’t show them in public because when people look at them, it makes me feel ugly. But you—I’ll show them to you.”
“Why?”
Her eyes soften and there is pain in them and then she buries her face in my shirt. “Because you’re mine.”
My hand wraps in her hair now and I stare at the sky, wondering if it is really going to be this easy. “Let’s go back,” I murmur.
We leave behind the glamour of the ball and in the car, it suddenly feels like something fundamental has shifted inside me.
Kendall isn’t touching me or looking at me, her eyes on the window, as if she’s deep in thought.
I let her be, my own thoughts plaguing me.
This woman, my woman, she’s not predictable, I’m starting to learn. And harsh times have ripped away her innocence. I can’t restore it, nor do I want to. She’s just as damaged as I am, and I want her for who she is now. The vulnerable girl who studied the world through rose tinted glasses can only be protected. This woman, who verbally claimed me just now, she’ll stand by my side, proudly.
We reach the hotel and then Kendall grasps my hand.
I see the hint of possessiveness in her eyes and I enjoy it. I wouldn’t have tolerated such from anyone else in the entire world but from her, it’s welcome.
We reach our suite and she doesn’t even bother changing. She simply takes off the earrings and I reach out and help her undo the clasp of her necklace. She carefully puts them in the box and then turns around to face me.
Then she sinks onto the bed, sitting down, her expression looks conflicted. “I have so many questions. I want answers. I want to know where you’ve been, what you’ve been doing, why were you imprisoned.”
I go to the small mini bar and pour myself a drink and with an afterthought, I pour her one too. I offer it to her.
She grabs it and throws it back in her throat without flinching, making me arch a brow.
“My father was a corrupt FBI agent.” I’d never told her this and I see the shock in her eyes.
“He was FBI?” Kendall gapes at me.
I swirl the drink in my glass, gently, not wanting to recall the memories. “He wasn’t the only one. While he was working with the inside network, he was fine. I was around four when he decided to back out. But Skinner, the man who arrested me, he was also one of them, and he didn’t like the idea. My mother found out and begged him to leave, to take us and go. But my father had a lot of pride and he said he could fix it. He had started drinking at that point and he wasn’t exactly a pleasant drunk. It was somewhere around my seventh birthday that Skinner and his men broke into our house. They shot my mother and my father used me as a shield.”
Kendall releases an outraged gasp at this.
It had hurt at the time too.
“There was as sniper stationed outside who took the shot. I was sent to an orphanage after ‘Uncle Skinner’ ? who had used to come to all
my birthday parties and taken me bowling once ? murdered my parents.”
“You met me then,” Kendall murmurs.
“Five years later,” I say. “I didn’t like you in the beginning which you know. But you were so damned persistent on befriending me. And then I saw the way you were being bullied and how bravely you stood up to them and announced that I would beat them up because I was your friend. You were a crafty little thing, frightened and so brave.”
