“Thank you,” he said.
“For what?” I asked.
“For coming here… for not judging me,” he responded while looking at his lap.
I cupped his cheek, making him turn his face toward me.
“You don’t have to thank me. You needed me, and I came. It’s that simple.” Part of me knew I was spewing bullshit, because this felt anything but simple.
He looked down at his lap once more, not saying anything for a long moment.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” I asked. I found myself holding my breath as I waited for a response, afraid I shouldn’t have asked.
Machine’s hazel eyes bore into mine at the question. “What would you like to know?”
Did I really want to know the horrific details of his past? I wasn’t positive. But this wasn’t about me. He clearly needed to get some of this off his chest.
I placed my hand on his. “I will listen to anything you want to tell me.”
Machine gulped before nodding his head and looking away. I had never seen him so vulnerable, and it did more to me than I wanted to admit.
“Seven years ago, I was in Iraq. My team and I were about to be done with our tour, and this was our last mission.”
My heart sank, knowing where this was leading. He clenched his free hand. The pain was written across every line of his body.
“We were just finishing up the mission when multiple IEDs went off.” He closed his eyes. “I couldn’t get to them in time. They were all killed, and I almost died. Now I’m just littered in all these scars that remind me every day of what I lost.”
I drew in a shaky breath.
“I have more metal in me than should be humanly possible. That’s part of why they call me Machine, along with other reasons.”
“And that’s why you had such a hard time in the hospital, I am assuming?” I asked quietly.
He nodded. “Hospitals bring me back to that time. Back to when I was helpless and found out I was alive while the rest of my team was dead.” He looked up at the ceiling, blinking away tears.
I couldn’t help the tears that were filling my own eyes. This strong man, the second-in-command of the Mafia, had the same emotions I did. He may be called Machine, but that didn’t mean he was void of humanity.
I held his shoulder and pressed my forehead to his temple. “I’m so sorry, Evan.”
He let out a shaky breath as a tear fell down his cheek, and he wrapped his arms around my waist. I held him for a long time, unsure how much time had passed before we moved.
Machine looked at me with glassy eyes and ran his fingers across my cheekbone. “Kade and Lennie are the only ones who know about what happened to me.”
“I promise everything you have told me will stay between us,” I said, understanding the weight of his vulnerability.
He nodded his head in understanding before pressing a soft kiss to my lips. I traced my finger over his scar on his eyebrow, a new gravity accompanying the action now that I understood his story.
“I know it’s ugly,” Machine whispered.
My eyes softened. “No, it’s beautiful.”
Machine let out a self-deprecating laugh as I took his chin in my hand.
“There isn’t one thing about you that isn’t beautiful,” I insisted. “Your scars tell your story, which made you who you are today. You are a warrior. You are beautiful.”
Machine’s breath hitched at my words before he began to kiss me again. Before things could get too heated, he pulled away.
“Thank you. Now I know you probably won’t tell me, but I need to know. I’ve been wondering ever since you interrogated Ricci.” His face hardened. I knew what he was going to ask. “What did those men do to you?”
