What did he mean by that? Us, hanging out? Us, eating together? Us, sleeping in bed together? Also, I wasn’t sure if this, whatever it was, worked. Why? Because the food container in my lap could barely hide my erection. Because I wanted more than a cuddle and a sleepover. Because I wanted that cold, uncaring man to care about me. Because I wanted us to fuck. Kiss, make out, fuck… any of it. All of it. Sadly, he was straight, and even if he weren’t, I was the last person he would put his mouth on. Except that he already had. Fuck. Why was life so confusing?
After we finished eating, I brought a pack of Coronas from the fridge, and then we just sat there in silence. The room was dimly lit, making his blue eyes darker and the scar on his face paler.
“Can I ask you something?” I said, fiddling with my beer bottle.
He shifted his gaze from the TV to me. “Sure.”
“If I tell you something about me, will you tell me something about you?”
“Why should I?”
“Do you like sleeping here?” I threatened, only half-joking.
Adam rolled his eyes. “Fiiine.”
“How did you get the scar on your face?”
For a few moments, he was staring at me, probably debating with himself whether to answer.
“The same way I got the ones on my back,” he said finally. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Is there anything you want to talk about?” I said, eager to keep the conversation going because I liked getting his attention.
When he draped his arm over the armrest above my shoulders, I flinched. He kept doing that, and it was driving me crazy. First, it would bring him too close to me. Second, it would put him in the position where he could stare at me, like right now.
“What happened to your parents?” He asked me an unexpected question.
“My father was an army man,” I replied, gazing into the distance. “He and my mother were flying to some military event in South America when their plane crashed. Their bodies were never found, but… we had a funeral after enough time passed.”
“How old were you when it happened?”
“Fifteen. Uncle and aunt took me in after that, but I was devastated. It was the only time in my life that I was glad I didn’t have any siblings, because I didn’t want anyone to suffer as I did.”
Adam nodded. “I’m glad I’m an only child too, but for different reasons.”
“Is your mother still alive?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “A combination of sleeping pills and brandy was her way out. She couldn’t stand her fall from grace.You know... from being a beauty queen and the mayor’s wife to being the wife of a convicted felon. After her death, it was foster care for me until I was old enough to say otherwise.”
He was telling it with a guarded expression that made me realize he’d never said it to another soul in his life. I was sure of it.
“I’m sorry. It must have been tough.”
Adam shrugged. “I survived.”
But at what cost? He was jaded, bitter, and churlish. As far as I knew, he had no friends, and I never saw him with a woman. Most of his colleagues detested him, never realizing what I always suspected. Adam Markland wasn’t a beast. He was awoundedbeast.
“I have scars, too, you know?” I said, feeling the need to even the playing field, or maybe I only wanted to make him feel better.
Adam cocked his eyebrow. “Do you now?”
I stood up and raised the hem of my shirt, exposing my belly.
“A knife wound?” he guessed correctly, peering at the whitish mark above my waist.
“And there’s this,” I said, lowering the rim of my jeans to present him with an ugly scar on my hip. “Some crackhead shot me.”
“Yeah, I remember this one,” Adam mused, dragging his finger over my skin. “I noticed it when we were in prison.”
