“It was my mistake, Dr. Barrow. I can be clumsy, and should have been more careful while tending the fireplace.”
My hands shook until I clenched them into fists.
“Kyle, it’s June. You lit a fire in the middle of summer?”
“My house gets drafty.”
Dr. Barrow let out a deep sigh, touching Kingston’s arm. “You know I have a responsibility to report it if I suspect…Kyle, by coming here, I can’t help but think youwant?—”
“Dr. Barrow, I come here because I trust you, and I believe you value patient confidentiality more than the doctors my family suggests I use.” His tone was firm but not commanding. “If there was something to report, I’d tell you to do it.”
“Are you sure?”
It took him a second to respond, and I wondered if the word had lodged in his throat the way my heart had gotten stuck in mine. “Yes,” he said softly. “Yes, I’m sure.”
Rage electrified my body.
My breaths came out shaky, and my heart jackhammered a million miles a minute.
Someone had hurt him.
Someone hadburnedhim.
And I only needed one guess to figure out who.
As she resigned herself to accepting his decision, I wanted to scream his father’s name at the top of my lungs.
“Let me go get the ointment you’ll need to put on it, and I’m sending you home with an antibiotic. Hopefully, that’ll get rid of the infection and allow the wound to heal. But you need to keep it covered and you can’t rub or pick at it, understand?”
“I understand. Thank you, Dr. Barrow.”
Her eyes flashed to mine before jumping back to Kingston’s. “That’s twice in one week you’ve come to me. It’s getting worse again, and it seems like it’s less isolated than it was when you were young…”
“I know, but this should be the worst of it. I promise. Can you give me some time? If I come back again, I’ll let you report it.”
“What if you don’t get the chance to come back?”
“It won’t come to that.”
Dr. Barrow, to her credit, didn’t look convinced at all, but she nodded and left the room to grab what she needed.
I rushed to Kingston’s side the second she closed the door, my eyes on his chest. The wound was raw and aggravated, and it didn’t appear to be healing well. But then, from what Kingston had said, rubbing at it hadn’t been helping.
As soon as I saw it up close, I gasped, mouth gaping as I took in the extent of it. Trickles of blood welled up at the edges where the scab had reopened from peeling off his shirt. And he hadn’t just been burned.
He’d beenbranded.
Painfully and purposefully marked forever.
“Kingston, what—?Why?”
He eased my hands away from the mark before his blood coated my skin. Curling my fingers in his, he brought them to his lips and drew in a shuddering breath, as if shoring up his courage before answering the question.
“It was a warning.”
Shock and outrage warred for dominance as my grip tightened on his hands.
“What kind of psychopathbrandssomeone as a warning? Have they not heard of email? A strongly worded letter? Kingston, what the fuck?”
