Page 100 of The Best of Us

“It does, does it?”

“Mm-hmm.”Crap. I chuckled. “I’m not saying that on purpose, I swear.”

He echoed those syllables back at me, arching his brow.

My stomach became all fluttery as he stared at me as if he could will away the effects of the alcohol so he could forge ahead with that much-needed kiss.

Silence filled the air for the first time in nearly an hour of eating and talking.

My gaze slipped to his arm. More specifically, to hisscarsthere.I wanted to bring my lips to one particular one I’d seen earlier on the inside of his wrist.

“Not self-inflicted,” he said in a gravelly voice.

I bent my head and brought my lips to the light white line marking his skin there.

“I never hurt myself, but the man who did all of this . . . I did ask him to kill me.” That was all it took to banish the flirty banter between us and sober me up enough to focus on only his pain and suffering.

“Who did this to you? What happened?” I whispered, a shudder rolling through me.

He frowned. “Are you sure you want to know? It’s not a good story. Your distillery lessons are much better.”

“Please.” I nodded for emphasis. I’d do anything to help take away some of his pain, and unless he shared it with me, I’d never be able to help.

He angled his head, scrutinizing me. Not a sobriety check, but a “can she handle the truth” one.

“If, at any point, you need me to stop, say the word.”

“Okay,” I promised, and he pulled his hand away to remove his shirt, revealing his hard, toned body and even more scars.

“The ones you can see aren’t the ones that hurt. The phantom pain comes from what else happened in that room.”

He took my outstretched palm and covered it with his, drawing our hands to his chest.

Eyes closed, he shared, “I was captured by someone, taken as their prisoner.” His chest jutted forward as a harsh, pained sound escaped his lips. “He forced me to watch him hurt people. Mostly women, and I was powerless to help. Strapped down and restrained, I listened to their screams, begging for help. The bastard even had my eyes physically forced open so I couldn’t shut them.” When his glossy eyes met mine, I caught a single tear falling with my thumb.

My body trembled, and my chills magnified.

What he’d said was beyond . . . well, justbeyondwhat anyone, especially such a caring man like him, should ever have to endure.

I unfolded my legs and crawled onto his lap and brought his naked chest flush to mine. I hooked my ankles at his back and held on to him.I’m so sorryfelt like a pebble in a very big pond of pain, but I didn’t know what else to say.

He shifted my hair to the side and buried his face at the crook of my shoulder. We stayed like that for a few quiet moments before he continued.

“My brothers saved me, but he got away. The PTSD after was bad. I didn’t want to burden anyone, so I kept it to myself. It ate at me. Destroyed me. I’d wake up in a sweat, hearing their cries and pleas for help,” he choked out, his voice stripped down to nothing but pure raw pain as he held on to me. “One night, I woke up and went to get a drink in my office. I stared at the bottle of Legacy Ridge, and memories of you calmed me down. I felt at peace for the first time in over a year.”

A harsh sob rattled free from my lungs as I held him as tight as I possibly could.

“Anytime PTSD hit, I focused on you instead,” he began again as he continued to remain a rock of strength. “You became my refuge—the memories of you, your sweetness and innocence, the opposite of everything that happened in that room.”

His warm breath at my neck slipped over my skin as he stroked my back, consoling me when I needed to be offering him solace instead.

“I had my designer create this room as a physical place to escape the pain when it was too much. So, you see, you helped me get better. Helped me fight my demons and come out on top.”

He eased back and cupped my face, his eyes glimmering as he allowed one more tear to break through his defenses. Meanwhile, I was an absolute disaster.

“You saved me.” He brought his forehead to mine. “You saved me, and you didn’t even know it.”

I sniffled, doing my best to calm down so I could talk. “Please tell me he’s dead.”

---