Her eyes watched me slowly, trailing from my eyes to the metal in my lower lip before dropping down to my hand covering hers. “Why? What do they mean?”
“That?” I breathed, still stuck on her gaze. “My tattoos?”
She nodded, blinking slowly. “Pain and Hate on your knuckles, why?”
I glanced to the ink she referred to. The faded black ink still looked razor-edged against my scarred hands. She draped one finger along the worn flesh, eyebrows skittering high when she felt the razed flesh of my skin. “You have so many scars.”
“Hence the tattoos.” I said woodenly.
“The tattoos are camouflage?” She cradled my hand in both of her palms.
“Not all of them.”
She glanced up, frowning. “You’re being so forthcoming.”
“Man, spending time with the Sinclairs has really rubbed off on you.” I struggled not to wince when she flipped my hand, reading the underside of my wrist like braille with the pads of her thumbs.
“Kyler…” she didn’t need to say more, all the emotion softening her eyes told me all I needed to know. I pulled my hand away, shoving both in the pockets of my hoodie. “You have so many scars…”
I nodded. “Life.”
“You look like you’ve lived a hundred by the marks on those hands.” She reached for my wrist, pulling one out from the pocket. She held the hand that said pain in her hand. “And your wrist...is that all from fighting?”
I shook my head, unable to form words. The truth was, I’d never let anyone this close, close enough to feel all my broken pieces. She was breaking down barriers I’d erected years ago and she didn’t even know it.
“Something like that.”
“So when did you get the hate and pain tattoos?” She was probing deeper into my past and all I could think to do was run but I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t do that to her, not again.
“After I left boarding school. I was kicked out right before I turned seventeen for threatening a teacher.” I shrugged, numb to the memory of it now. “I rented a car, stopped only at a tattoo parlor to commemorate the day, and then showed up on Monica and Edward’s doorstep with a bottle of vodka and a smile. To say they weren’t happy is an understatement. They tried to send me to therapy again after that, but I wasn’t having it. I’d done enough talking in my life and it hadn’t gotten me anywhere. No one really listens, anyway.” I didn’t know why I was talking so damn much. I never did, but sitting here with Madison looking at me so sweetly I wanted to bare my soul to her. “Monica says I’m lucky Black Mountain Academy took me back--it feels like a curse, though. I begged her to let me get my GED so I could be done with the bullshit system altogether, but she begged them to take me back. The only condition was that I repeat all of my senior year, even though I’d finished three-quarters of it in boarding school. I told her they just wanted to charge her full-price tuition, but the truth is, my family gives enough to that school, they didn’t have the balls to tell Monica no. So I’m making sure my last year is hell on them.”
“Hm.” She paused the figure-eight she’d been trailing around my scarred and inked knuckles. “Sounds highly productive.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, little mouse.”
She didn’t reply, and I just kept letting her soft touch melt my tense nerves. It was weird, the effect she had on me. I didn’t understand it, and I guess it was only now that I was open to it. After she’d robbed me of her the last few months I’d become like a starving wild animal, obsessed with getting her back no matter the cost.
I caught the book on her nightstand. “Anne Rice, huh? Didn’t peg you for a vampire girl.”
I couldn’t see her, but I could feel her eyes traveling my face. “I’m a sucker for an anti-hero.”
I flipped the pages, her words spinning through my mind on repeat. Had I just become her pet project? Was I the scarred, wild animal she thought she could rehab back to life? Suddenly, all the opening up we’d just done felt like an oppressive wave barreling down on my chest.
“I--I forgot tonight was my night to walk the dogs at the animal shelter--I should probably head over there--those dogs are vicious if they don’t get their nightly walk.”
“Since when did you start volunteering at the animal shelter?”
“Also since the day I got back from boarding school. Every Tuesday and Thursday for the last two years. I’ve been a vegan since that day too. The day I realized I liked animals more than humans, I couldn’t keep eating them.”
“Two years, huh?” Her eyebrows rose. “Can I come? I’d love to help you dog walk.”
“It’s not really...I don’t think they’d just appreciate it if I brought someone new…”
“The dogs? Or the humans?” She laughed.
“Either?” I answered seriously.
“I’m pretty much a dog whisperer, and most humans like me too. I mean, if they put up with you…”
I shook my head when the little mouse followed me out of the room. My grand plan to escape her prying little questions was an epic fucking fail.
“How far is the shelter?”
“A ten-minute walk,” I uttered, wondering what in the hell had gotten into me earlier when I’d told her I wanted to be friends after all. I wasn’t adapted to things like friends and common niceties.
“Perfect, you can tell me about the rest of your tattoos.”
I suppressed another groan. “Is oversharing ever, like, a thing in friendships?”
She only laughed as we set off along the edge of the cobbled driveway. “Feeling exposed, Sinclair?”
“No. I’ve just never known anyone to give so many fucks about another person.” My words hung heavy, the truth of them registering fully.
“Well, I’m sorry about that. I don’t know what dinners were like in your house, but every night my
