“Cole?”
“It’s an old injury.”
“I can tell. What happened?”
He’d concocted a lie that he’d used in the rare times someone had asked. He didn’t tend to go shirtless, especially in the apartment he’d shared with Jordie. When he’d been in a relationship with a woman, he’d avoided instances where she could see his back.
Until now, in this big ol’ shower he’d created for two. Until along came a woman who wasn’t satisfied with skimming the surface. Wasn’t that exactly what he’d hoped for? Now what, genius? Gonna lie to her?
No. But maybe he could diffuse the situation.
Letting out a sigh, he turned around. “It’s not important what happened. It was a long time ago. What’s in the past is best left in the past.”
Her gaze was steady. “It wasn’t an accident, was it?”
“No.”
“Someone hit you with something. Hard enough to draw blood.”
His heart thumped painfully. He managed a careless shrug. “Shit happens.”
“How old were you?”
He took her by the shoulders as warm water cascaded around them, filling the enclosure with steam. Droplets caught on her eyelashes. “Mila.” The words came out rougher than he meant them to. “Let it go. Please.”
For a long moment she just looked at him. Then she took a shaky breath. “I guess I could do that.”
He was dizzy with relief. “Thank you.”
“And then what?”
They weren’t out of the woods, after all. “We continue to do what we do best, love each other.”
“Am I supposed to pretend those scars don’t exist?”
“You’ll forget about them. I have.” Mostly true.
“Really?”
“Sure. When you started washing my back, I didn’t think about it until you said something.”
“What about the time it happened? Have you forgotten that, too?”
His stomach pitched. “I don’t think about it.”
“You block it out.”
It was not a question. More of an indictment. “Yes.”
“Just like you blocked out the music and the decorations in the market today?”
“Something like that.” He could see she was headed back to her argument about missing out. He’d rather not go there again. “Tell you what. Let’s table this for now, dry off and go check on the snow.”
Her troubled frown broke his heart. He wanted to bring her only smiles and joy. Maybe he should have told that lie, after all.
She studied him for a moment longer. “Okay.” She handed him the washcloth. “I need to put the sweet potatoes in the oven and prep the chicken. Meet you in the kitchen.” Stepping out on the bathmat, she lifted a towel from the rack, wrapped herself in it and left the bathroom.
He didn’t kid himself that was the end of the discussion. She had more to say and he doubted he was going to like it. Fudge it all, would those old scars turn out to be his undoing?
