Page 77 of The Version You Hide

He shifts uncomfortably, turning his body toward mine. “You called out his name in your sleep last night.”

A sick feeling sinks in the pit of my stomach, my vulnerability reaching a whole new level not knowing what else I might have said for Dylan to hear.

As usual, I cover it with another sarcastic joke. “Typical. I haven’t seen that asshole in months, and I still can’t seem to keep him out of my nightmares.”

Again, he doesn’t laugh. His brow pinches as he chews on his bottom lip. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

I huff out a short laugh. “You sound like Kristen.”

“You haven’t talked to her about him?” he asks.

“Not really. I’m not really interested in being psychoanalysed by my sister.”

“Fair enough,” he says. “Can I ask you something though?”

“If you have to.”

He hesitates a second, leading me to believe I might not like his question but the sincerity in his eyes is unmistakeable. “How did you get involved with a guy like Ethan Davis?”

I breath out a sigh as I absorb his question. “No one’s ever asked me that before.”

“No one? Not even Kristen?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I mean, she’s asked me how I’m coping. She’s questioned a lot about my past, but never once about how I met Ethan. I think most people just assume that I’m this bad girl that goes around looking for trouble, but that’s actually the last thing I’ve ever wanted.”

“I’m sure that’s not what Kristen thinks.” He reaches over to gently pat Chance, who’s fallen asleep with his head resting on my thigh.

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

“So, how did you meet him?”

“I met him at school,” I begin, my gaze roaming out the back door to the sand. “He was the new kid in town. He’d just moved into the area with his dad, and they seemed like good people. I was fifteen and he was seventeen. All my girlfriends thought he was so charming and cute. This charismatic older guy. After a few weeks he asked me to hang out after school one day. He took me to the local café and bought me a milkshake.” A bitter laugh leaves me. “I’d thought he was so sweet. My friends were jealous as hell of me.”

I look across to Dylan. He swallows hard, still watching me intently, awaiting my next words.

“My home life was difficult with my father’s drinking. My mum was gone.” Pressure mounts behind my eyes, tears threatening to spill at the mention of my mother. I push them back down. “I guess Ethan gave me the attention that I craved. I didn’t know he was a bad guy. His dad was the new chief superintendent.”

“A corrupt cop,” Dylan guesses.

I nod. “I had no idea. I wasn’t looking for trouble. I was looking for comfort. I’d thought Ethan would be my safe haven, the one to rescue me from a life of neglect. Turns out I was looking in all the wrong places. By the time I realised what was happening, I was already caught up in his web.”

“Kenz.” Dylan reaches up and swipes a tear from my cheek. One I didn’t even realise I’d shed. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to say anything else.”

“I know,” I tell him. “But I want to.”

And that’s the truth. For once in my life, it feels like talking is helping. And Dylan is easy to talk to.

“Okay.”

I pause as Chance jumps from the couch and bounds out the back door, his tail wagging as he disappears down the steps and onto the beach. “I tried to break up with him. That’s when the violence started. It started with threats at first. He made me do illegal things. Help him with his drug runs. He said if I told anyone I’d be going down with him. Not long after that I became his own personal punching bag.”

Dylan’s jaw clenches, a vein bulging in his neck that I’d never seen before. His nostrils flare, his eyes wandering over my body as I lift the hoodie up to bare my upper thigh.

“This scar? I got that when he shoved me into a wall mirror. And this one.” I pull up my sleeve to reveal a purplish streak on my forearm. “When he held my arm over a stove.”

“Stop.” The word comes out broken as he curls an arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his chest. My first instinct is to push away from him. I’m not used to letting myself get close to people, but instead I revel in his touch, in the way his fingers comb through my hair. “I’m sorry, Kenz. I hate that you had to go through that. It isn’t fair.”

My eyes flit upward, taking in his glassy stare. In this light, I can see the golden flecks that streak across his irises.

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