Page 72 of Queen Of WildCards

"Whohurt you?"Iwhispered, refusing to release her hand asIhovered just above her skin, my hot breath still dancing across her skin.

Sherefused to answer, shaking her head again, her wavy tresses free of the towel that had fallen by the wayside as we struggled against each other.

Myanswering growl stilled her as she stared up into my eyes once more.

"Whohurt you,Mallory?"

Ialmost didn't think she'd answer me, she hesitated for so long.Andthen, just asIwas about to release her from my hold—

"Ihurt myself,BlackJack, but then again, you already knew that."

"JonahHale."

Ileaned in, our hands falling to my lap between us, and stared deep into her eyes, searching for her soul, seeking the understandingIknew hid within their depths as she stared back at me in confusion.

"What?"

"Myname wasn't alwaysBlackJack.Mymother called meJonah."

Shemelted into a fucking puddle at the soul-bearing admission, andIwatched as her hand lifted, then fell before it had a chance to touch me, then lifted again against her better judgment before settling in her lap atop the other one as confusion and consternation flickered across her features.

"Jonah," she muttered, testing it out on her tongue, rolling it around between her lips like a sinful plea.Ifelt parts of me come alive at the sound of that name in her voice, parts of meIthoughtI'dlost long ago to the streets.

Iwanted to wrap that sound around me like a blanket and fucking drown in the depths it held.

Ialmost didn't want to speak again, afraid she might clam up and all of this would be for naught.Ialso was loath to break up the peaceful calm that settled over us in the silence.

Shemade the choice for me.

"Myfather wasn't the best person to be around.Whenhewasaround, anyhow.Hetook his anger out on my mom whenever he came home, and when he left, things weren't great.Henever left her enough to pay the bills, but he expected us to always be there when he returned.Likeobedient fucking dogs."

Shestared down at her lap, twisting her hand in my grip so she could see the scars, forcing herself to remember.

"Whenmomma died, he'd been gone for so long,Ithought he was gone for good.Thingsgot really hard, butIwas grown by then, an adult, soIjust moved on with life, until one dayIjust woke up and didn't want to keep surviving.Lifewas desolate, lonely, and not worth shit to me.I'dgiven up.

"Iwas hungry, starving, there was no power, andIhadn't spoken to a human being in days.Momma'sbody hadn't even rotted in the ground yet, andIwas ready to join her."Herlaugh was hollow and weak. "Iwasn't even legal drinking age, for fuck's sake."

Sheturned her free hand over and bared a second set of scars to match her first, and my other hand curled protectively around this set, too, shielding her from the painful reminder.

"Thedoctors say it's a miracleIsurvived, but my therapist thinks there was a part of me too stubborn to die.Probablygot that from my father, the fucking prick."

Everysingle nerve ending in my body was on high alert, tingling with her nearness, but instead of pulling away,Itugged her forward into a hug, albeit one that made my skin crawl.Shelet me hold her there for a few seconds, then pulled back, knowing the touch itself probably made me feel like tearing my hair out.

"Youdon't have to make yourself uncomfortable,BlackJa—Jonah."Hersmile was brittle and soft, but it still managed to make me feel likeIwas staring into the sun. "Youdon't have to touch me to comfort me.Yourpresence here is a comfort already."

Ishook my head at her insistence. "WhatifI. . . "

Iwasn't sure ifIwanted to, ifIwas ready for this step, butIwanted to see ifIcould, if it were possible to change the things life had beaten into me.

"WhatifIwant to?"

CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO

MALLORY

Therewas no wayIheard him right.

"Comeagain?"

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