Page 39 of When We Were Reckless
He’d also thanked me for being a good friend and looking after her. A reminder that it was the way things needed to be between Quinn and me.
She gave him a little slug on the shoulder before she sauntered over to my bike. I handed her the jacket, and she threaded her arms through the sleeves and zipped it up.
Just then, Holden, Tasha, and Carly came out of the house, the girls giggling. “See you soon, Jesse,” Tasha called, blowing me a kiss before she climbed into the back seat of Mason’s Jeep.
Quinn scowled at the Jeep as they drove away. “She seems… friendly.”
“Uh huh.” Couldn’t deny it. Tasha wasfriendly. In Mason’s words, “She’s the perfect rebound girl. Sex. No strings attached.”
“Are you… planning to see her again?”
I had no intention of seeing Tasha again. Hadn’t even asked for her number. “Would it bother you if I said yes?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “No. Why should it?”
“Exactly. You have Walker, right?”
“Yeah, Walker…” She exhaled a breath and smoothed her hands over the jacket, looking down at it. “Was this Alessia’s?”
I got rid of all traces of Alessia. Every item of clothing, every tube of lipstick, every photo and text message, and every physical reminder that I had shared a life with a liar and a cheat. “No. It’s yours.”
Her gaze snapped to mine. “You bought this for me?”
I nodded.
“You bought me a jacket and a helmet?”
“If you’re going to ride on the back of my bike, you need protection.”
“Thank you.” She smiled. It was bright, and it was beautiful. Glorious, really. I hadn’t seen that smile aimed at me in a long time. I’d missed it. I’d missed the way she used to look at me like I was someone good and not a total fuck-up.
I wanted to believe her smile was genuine. Thatshewas genuine. That I hadn’t gotten her all wrong. “I saw you yesterday. At the swimming hole.”
“You saw me…” Her voice trailed off, and she sucked in a breath. “Oh. Right.” She nodded as if she got it now. “You thought I lied to you.”
“Youdidlie to me.”
“I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell you everything.”
I grabbed her hand and tugged her toward me. “Why not?”
Without thinking, I stroked the underside of her wrist with my thumb. She looked down at our joined hands then up at me again. My dick twitched. I was getting a semi just from this simple touch. I had to stop touching her.
I released her hand, and she tucked her hands into her back pockets and took a step back.
“You were acting weird. And I didn’t feel like you deserved to know. Not after the way you were badgering me about wearing a bikini.” She lowered her eyes to the ground.
“You didn’t let me explain. Have you seen how many scars I have on my body?”
She muttered something under her breath I didn’t catch. I hooked two fingers under her chin and lifted her face to mine. “Quinn… the scars don’t matter.”
“Maybe to you they don’t. It’s different for you. Yours are sports-related and….” She sucked in a breath and averted her eyes. “You’re a guy, so you wouldn’t understand….” Her words trailed off, and she stared at the boat ramp, not meeting my eyes.
I wrapped my hands around her upper arms, feeling this constant need to touch her, to bring her closer to me so I could make her understand. It felt important, somehow, to help her see her scars the way I would. “You know how I would look at your scars?”
“How?”
“Like they’re beautiful.” Her eyes locked onto mine as I skimmed my hands down her arms and took her hands in mine. “Because they are. They tell part of your story, but not all of it. You’re more than your scars. But those scars just prove what a warrior you are. They’re like samurai sword wounds. Be bold. Be strong. Wear them proudly.”
