Page 32 of Restrained

I notice his body visibly stiffen, his jaw ticking with an anger I don’t understand. “How bad was it?”

I study him, trying to understand his obsession with Penelope. Or is it maybe any child who has a bad background like he does? “She was in foster care. And they weren’t all good to her. The final straw was when Linc found out her foster father had hit her.”

I see his hands tighten their grip on the steering wheel and see him swallow hard as if the lump in his throat is a ball of rage he can’t get rid of. “Hit her?”

I nod. “Yes. She had a black eye. It was awful.”

“Did anything else happen to her?”

“Do you know her? Is that what this is?” He parks the car in a restaurant parking lot and turns to me as I study him. “Were you in foster care with her?”

It’s plausible.Even if he’s older than her. "No. You were there the first time I met Penelope.”

“Then why do you seem so angry?”

“Because they hurt her.”

He drops his hands to his sides, and my hand brushes over the back of his scarred hand. “They hurt you.”

I watch his throat bob and see the agony under the surface. “My father did this. My own blood, not a foster parent.”

I stare at him in horror. My father is an asshole, but he never physically hurt me. “Why?”

His laugh is bitter and cold. “I was breathing too fucking loud probably. I don’t know. I was six.”

I want to cry for him. “Six?”

He nods. “He was a mean drunk.”

“I’m so sorry.” It’s a quiet whisper as my hand rests on top of his.

“I’m fine. It healed a long time ago, but it left an ugly fucking scar.” His face moves closer to mine, and I can feel his heat radiating toward me. “I have a lot of them.”

My eyes drift over his clothed torso and then back to his eyes. “Please tell me he was punished.”

“I don’t know.”

My brows furrow in confusion. “You don’t know?”

“He left right after the thing with my hand. Probably afraid my teacher would report it, which is exactly what she fucking did. He was already long gone, and I haven’t seen him since.”

“What about your mother?”

Please tell me his mother is at least halfway decent.“Worthless. Fucking headcase.”

“Who are you, Hayden West?”

The question escapes my mouth before I can stop it, leaving me slightly embarrassed. But it doesn’t faze him. His hand grips my chin as he forces me not to look away but instead right into his eyes. “Right now? I’m a starving guy who doesn’t want to talk anymore.”

I stare into his beautiful eyes and feel hunger like I've never known.

Only it’s not food I want.

16

HAYDEN

Why can’t I shut the fuck up around her? I need to. I know I shouldn’t have told her about my father, but the way she stares at my scar... Fuck, it kills me.

---