“Jude…” Rowan shakes his head slightly.
“I thought you’d be safer in juvie,” I add. “I know I shouldn’t have made the decision for you, but you didn’t see him, Row. I don’t think I’d ever seen Dad that angry before.”
“So you weren’t mad at me for hitting Grant? For stopping what was going on between you two?”
“Of course I wasn’t. You saved me, Rowan. You have no idea how bad it really got.” The words come out strangled, but I keep going. I can’t have another night like this. If telling Rowan the truth stops it all, then I’m going to. “It was after class, it was in the backseat of his car, it was in the locker room, it was in our house a couple times when no one else was there.”
Rowan sucks in a breath, and I realize I said too much. This stuff’s been in my head for a decade; sometimes I forget that it’s all new to them.
“Sorry,” I say, staring down at my knuckles. “I shouldn’t have said all that.”
“You don’t need to apologize for that. I just didn’t know it had happened at the house,” Rowan says. “Or that it had been going on so long.”
He’s quiet for a long minute, but I can feel the question pressing against him. He surprises me by not asking it, like he swore he wouldn’t. He really isn’t going to push me on this.
But he deserves to know.
“It started in the ninth grade,” I supply, my words cutting through the silence like a knife. “He tried it right after that first class. And when I said no, he did it anyway.”
That’s all the detail I can give about it. There’s so much more in my memory, in my head. But I don’t think I should say it all to Rowan. He looks sick enough as it is.
“I wish you had told me,” Rowan says softly. “I would’ve made it stop.”
I’m shaking my head before he’s even finished talking. “I couldn’t do that. It would’ve made Dad fly off the handle. Itdidmake him fly off the handle. He broke my fucking arm and almost put Dom in the hospital.”
Rowan swallows. He wasn’t there for that. He was already sitting in a holding cell when Dad found out.
“I didn’t go see you after your sentencing because I thought you’d be pissed at me.” I glance away from him. “And I was mortified. I didn’t want you to see me like that. It was so fucking disgusting.”
“I’m sorry,” Rowan says.
“You don’t owe me an apology.” He never will. Not for anything.
“Maybe I don’t, but I still think you deserve to hear one.”
Eight
Max
I’m kind of nervous about Jude stopping by my apartment. It’s in a nice neighborhood, and it’s clean because this is me, but I want him to be comfortable. The way he carries himself makes me think he’s always on edge. The only time he wasn’t like that was when he was pounding into me in the bathroom yesterday.
I shift on the couch just to feel the sting from his cock, from his hand when he spanked me. Fuck, I hadn’t had it that good in a long time.
There’s a knock on the door before I’m totally ready for it, but I stand and head over to answer it.
Jude’s standing in the hallway, hands tucked casually into the pockets of his black leather jacket. He looks like something out of one of my teenage fantasies.
I widen the door to let him come in. “You want something to drink?”
“Nah, I’m okay.” He glances around the living room, and I wonder how he sees it. “Nice place.”
I close the door and lock it. “Thanks.”
He glances back at the lock before looking at me, his crooked smile firmly in place. “Want to show me to your sex dungeon?”
My cheeks burn. “It’s not exactly a dungeon.”
He laughs, and the sound warms my stomach. “I’m kidding. Show me your normal bedroom, Max.”
