Page 79 of Selling Innocence

“This is about a year old, right?”

I nodded.

“I’m surprised it isn’t better healed. With all the lotions and beauty products you use, I figured you would have used scar ointments to make it fade faster.”

I swallowed hard, unsure how much to say, afraid to open my mouth and let the truth tumble out.

I hadn’t realized just how hard it would be to show anyone this. Only Jarrod had seen the wound, in the weeks after my injury, when he’d taken care of me. He and Sasha, the nurse and the woman he was now with, had watched over me while I’d healed, keeping the wound clean and helping me with the many tasks I couldn’t do on my own.

Not even Nem or the Quad had seen it. I had the feeling Nem had wanted to, but if anyone understood privacy, it was her, so she’d never asked.

And now I have these four getting a front-row seat to the most painful part of my life.

Hayden sighed softly. “If you didn’t use any ointment, you must have wanted the scar to stay. Why?”

“It’s a reminder.”

“Of what?”

“That life is short, and people will betray you if you give them the chance.”

Hayden didn’t pull away, his fingers still touching me, but he shifted back enough to look into my face. “What happened?”

“You’ve seen it. You all wouldn’t be sitting here like I broke curfew if you didn’t already know exactly what it was.”

“Are you really giving us attitude right now?” Char snapped. “This is the time when a smart person realizes they’ve fucked up and try to do damage control.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m not that smart, then. Or maybe you’re asking stupid questions. Clearly, I was shot. What more do you need to know?”

Vance spoke, his voice tight and angry. “We did a thorough background check on you, and nowhere in it was there a hospital stay for an injury like that. Either your records are wrong or it was hidden from them. No matter which, it seems like you’ve got a lot of secrets.”

I sighed, then shifted back enough to get Hayden’s fingers off me. They reminded me of the scar, making it harder to force my brain to work, to come up with something plausible.

I’d known when Bray and Jarrod had set up my false identity that the scar was an issue. I couldn’t exactly add ‘shot by father’ into my medical record and expect people wouldn’t take notice. Something like that would draw too much attention, and since all gunshot wounds were reported, having it in my file would open us to scrutiny.

So instead, we’d left it off.

Leave it to these four to see through that lie.

“Does it really matter?” I asked.

“Of course it does.” Hayden remained on his knees in front of me, and when I risked meeting his gaze, I regretted the choice immediately.

He was too close, his expression showing the volatile emotions inside him. He might be good at hiding them, at keeping them from boiling over, at behaving calmly, but I saw them deep in his eyes.

“You should have told me,” he pressed. “It’s my job to keep you safe, and a serious injury like this is the sort of thing I should be made aware of. What if you were hurt, and I had no idea that you had previous trauma there? What if you froze or panicked when faced with a gun because of that, and I was unable to predict it because I didn’t know about this? Jesus, Kenz, do you really think none of us would care about something like this?”

“It’s just a bullet wound,” I argued, ignoring how incredibly stupid that statement was. “Let’s be honest, here. At least half of you have probably been shot as well! Hayden, there’s no way you haven’t at least been grazed, and Tor? You think I didn’t see the scar on your left arm? You all didn’t tell me about that, so why do you think I had to disclose anything to you?”

“Because we are responsible for you, not the other way around,” Hayden said before rising to his feet, his steps heavy and angry. “Besides, that sort of thing is expected in our line of work. For a civilian kid of your age to suffer through it is different. We expect boxers are going to get black eyes, but if I see one on a housewife, I’m going to have questions. So what happened?”

Him asking opened the flood gates, allowing the memory I’d tried to lock away to come back and roll over me, crushing me.

I recalled the way my father had swung the gun from Nem to me. It wasn’t that I’d wanted him to shoot her, but realizing he cared so little for me?

It hurt. Kyler hadn’t been the best father, but I’d still believed until the very end that he gave a damn about me, that he loved me. Maybe he’d been bad at showing it, but I’d still trusted that the love was there, that he did his best.

And with the squeezing of a trigger, he’d shattered that security.

---