A tremor wracks me from the base of my skull to my toenails.I can’t move without breaking down.
“I can find them myself, if you’ll let me,” he half asks, half threatens.
Terror closes my throat.In a Hail Mary attempt to prevent him from finding the horror story written in the flesh of my torso, I twist my wrist until the edge of my watch digs into his muscles.
He stills before reaching around and cupping my elbow in his gigantic palm.With his other hand, he works the strap of my watch free and pulls it off my arm.
Eerie silence falls over the room.
“Who did this?Who hurt you?”
His fury is a balm to my soul.
“I want names, Penelope.First and last.Every single person who knew, whether they were directly involved or not.Tell me, sweet pea, before I hire every private investigator in New York City to find them myself.”
I loosen my fists and lift my head from his chest.He drops my watch into my lap and brushes his thumbs over my wrist.Held in his massive hands, my forearm seems impossibly thin and fragile.His thick digits tracing my jagged scar create too many emotions, so I try to pull my arm away, but he tightens his grip just enough to keep me in place.
“Tell me, Penelope,” he demands.
“I-I will, just let go of me first,” I beg.
His deep breath shifts me on his lap.
“I don’t think I can.Not yet.Give me a few minutes, yeah?”he pleads.
Wonder streaks through me.He could so easily crush my hand in his grip, but instead he cradles it like it’s the most precious thing in the world.
“Does it still hurt?”he asks.
I shake my head.He searches my face.I clear my throat.
“It aches sometimes, but it’s nowhere near as itchy or painful as the oth—”
I stop my wayward mouth before it reveals too much, but judging by the murderous glint in his eyes, I failed.Miserably.
“I’m okay now,” I lie.
He growls and lifts my wrist to his face.With heart-wrenching sorrow and a touch of reverence, he brushes his lips over my ugly, raised flesh.
“I’m not okay,” he growls.
I stare in shocked delight and disbelief as he peppers my scar with kisses before weaving his fingers through mine and meeting my eyes.
“Why did you suffer in silence?You weren’t a freshman anymore, so you’d had an entire school year to make friends.There wasn’t a single teacher in the entire school who didn’t adore you.Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
Futile frustration roars through me.
“I did!I tried but no one would listen to me.The teachers were scared of the girls’ parents, so they didn’t dare intervene unless my grades slipped.Samuel refused to believe me and brushed me off like normal.My parents had their own issues to deal with, and their perfect, brilliant daughter had never given them trouble before, so they thought I just needed more time to adjust.And you…”
His fingers stiffen within mine.
“I never reached out.Never came back.Never tried hard enough to make you realize how much I cared.”
His tortured rumble strikes deep into my heart.
I nod and blink back sudden tears but more flood my eyes and drip off my lashes.
He kisses the inside of my wrist before tucking it against his chest and cocooning me in his arms.
