Page 66 of Our Secrets and Scars

I can’t help but laugh at the clear expression of victory smacked across his handsome face. “Yeah, you Neanderthal. Who knew you were such a caveman?”

Holden captures my lips in a kiss so sweet, it tastes like sugar. “Only for you, Kinz,” he mutters against my lips. “I’ve only ever been this way for you.”

And though his actions are a little crafty and admittedly, downright problematic, my heart swells with pride that he felt such a deep-rooted urge to mark me with his initial.

It’s hot in a toxic kind of way. But it somehow makes me feel safe too. Because, for the first time in my life, I belong to someone.I matter.

“What about your tattoo? The girl on your chest?” My fingers find the one I mean and I stroke it as I talk. “You said she was inspired by a girl you knew once.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you mean me?” I ask it tentatively, not wanting to seem conceited or presumptive. But I have a gut feeling that I’m right.

For a long moment, he just smiles at me. So long, in fact, that I almost give up waiting for an answer. Until finally, he says, “Yeah, little one, I meant you.”

I suspected as much but having him confirm it makes my heart sing.

My fingers trace the smooth lines of the portrait. It doesn’t look like me, but I guess it doesn’t need to. It’s not about what the girl looks like but what she represents. The fissures in her face with sunlight streaming through them are my scars. I know because he once wrote in one of his letters that scars arecracks in your perfection that let the light come in,andI realize now that his words were inspired by the Rumi quote he has hanging on the wall across from the bed.

“You really like me, huh?” I grin at him, joy radiating through my entire body.

He gives me a casual shrug in return, but I see the twitching of his lips as he fights back a smile. “You’re all right.”

“Just all right?”

His face turns serious, eyes darkening. He leans over me, supporting his weight on his elbows as he gets as close to me as possible without actually touching me. The light air of his breath shivers across my lips, and I want so much to kiss him. To crush my lips to his and make love to him again.

But this moment isn’t about that.

It’s not sexually charged but intense with unabashed emotion. It’s a connection between our hearts that runs deeper than just desire. It’s spiritual. Soul-stirring. It’s the kind of moment that comes just before the end credits roll in a movie about an epic love. It’s honest and earnest and true.

“You’re everything, Kinsley.Everything.”

Eighteen

Holden

Thenextafternoon,Kinsley’sphone pings with an incoming message.

It’s been twenty-four hours since she finally accepted the reality of us, and we’ve barely left the bed since. Not simply because we’ve been having sex, but because the bed is the only place that allows every part of our bodies to touch each other at the same time. It brings us a level of physical closeness that we wouldn’t be able to get anywhere else.

“It’s Isla. She says she wants to take me out for dinner to make up for being a shitty friend recently.”

“S’bout time.”

“Hey,” she slaps me playfully, “she hasn’t been that bad.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Seriously? She keeps ditching you every time you go out.”

“She’s just happy with her girlfriend, I guess.”

“Isn’t an excuse.”

“Yeah, I know.” She shrugs.

“You deserve better from your friendship, that’s all.” I soothe my hand over her hair, stroking the soft strands as I smile down at her. “People have a habit of accepting less than they should if they think that’s all they deserve. Just want you to know that you deserve more.”

“Stop paraphrasingPerks of Being a Wallflower.”She rolls her eyes like I knew she would. “What shall I tell her?”

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