Page 40 of Pretty Little Scars

My heart is pounding now because I’ve never toldanyonethis. My siblings think they know, and they were privy to some of it, but never everything because I wouldn’t allow them to know.

Not even Holden.

“If I tell you,” I whisper against his chest, “I’ll never speak of it again.”

“Deal.”

I clear my throat and swallow hard, and he tightens his hold on me, hugging me to him.

“I’m right here,” he whispers against my ear. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

“He liked—” I clear my throat again. I can feel the pain on my back and arms, the way the blood would flow down my skin and sting. Tears fill my eyes. “He liked to make me bleed. He cut me often, almost always on my back, but sometimes he’d wrap barbed wire around my upper arms and then pull until I had a hundred cuts all over and then drag me around.” Yeah, I’m babbling now, because if I don’t say it all at once, I’ll never talk about it, and he should probably know how fucked up I am before this goes any further. “He loved it when I bled. Heloved it. But he always did it where I could wear clothes so the scars didn’t show, and so people didn’t ask questions. I didn’t sleep on my back for years.”

“Baby.” Tucker’s voice cracks, and then he’s rocking me back and forth, and all I can do is cling to him, soothing him just as much as he’s soothing me.

“I’m a mess, Tucker. In so many ways. So if you’d rather call it a day, and we just work together, or I get reassigned, I understand completely.”

“Whoa.” He pulls back and frowns down into my face as he gently—always so gently—brushes my hair back behind my ear. “You think that because you got the short end of the stick in the parental gene pool that I would want to back away from you?”

“It’s a lot,” I whisper. “I can’t do storms. They’re the worst. Because he’d tie us up outside and make us sit through it. He was cruel and?—”

“He wasn’t cruel, he was a motherfucking monster,” he breaks in, and for the first time since I’ve known him, he sounds truly pissed off. “And I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“He’s dead.”

He lowers his forehead to mine and his jaw tenses. I can see that he’s reigning in his temper, but it doesn’t scare me at all.

“I wish he wasn’t dead,” he says, so low that I almost can’t hear him. “Because I’d love to torture him.”

“I’m glad he’s gone.” I press my hands to his cheeks and offer him a smile. “Because he’s gone, my sisters and I can heal. We’re doing so much better. We really are.”

“I need to promise you something, right here and now.” His whole body is tight, every muscle clenched with emotion. “I willnevertouch you in anger. Never, Darby. I think I’m the most ragey I’ve ever been in my life in this moment, because the thought of anyone hurting you in any way makes me want to tear the world apart.”

Wow.

“You don’t have to worry about me hurting you.”

“I know that.” I push my fingers into his hair, trying to soothe him. “I know you won’t. I have an instinct for these things. And I promise to not turn every conversation into my childhood trauma.”

“You can talk about anything you want. I like listening to you.”

“Honestly, I’m not usually this verbose.”

He kicks up an eyebrow. “Using the big words now, are we?”

And just like that, all the tension melts away, and I let out a small laugh.

“I’m smart, Hotshot.”

“Don’t I know it.” He boops my nose and then checks the time. “The farrier should be here soon. He had to push back to this afternoon.”

I nod as we walk toward the barn. We’ve already ridden Ellie this morning, and now all the animals have been fed and watered. I’m going to brush out the horses this afternoon, after their hooves are done, so I’m out of the way, but I can watch the farrier at work.

A truck pulls in just as we reach the barn, and Tucker scowls as he watches a man who looks to be in his forties get out of the cab and start walking toward us.

“Is something wrong?” I ask Tucker as he slides his hand into mine, linking our fingers, as if he wants to keep me close.

As if he’s protecting me.