Page 19 of P.S. I'm Still Yours
I’m gripping the hem of his shirt and lifting it up before I know it.
That’s when I see them.
The dark bruises on his ribs.
A gasp spills from my mouth, my gaze drifting from his oblique muscles to his chest.
“What the hell?” Kane screeches and pushes off the couch in a single bound, smoothing his shirt back down.
I follow his lead, rising to my feet. “What are those? What happened to you?”
Color drains from his face as I amble closer to him.
Pain is noticeable on his face, and I’m reminded of the way he reacted when my mom hugged him the first day he got here. He had those bruises before he moved in.
“It’s nothing,” he lies through his teeth.
“Screw that. Either you tell me what happened to you right now, or you can forget about sharing the shed.” I’m hoping that’ll scare him into confessing.
He doesn’t answer right away.
I can’t wait any longer. “I said, what happened?”
He blows out a breath and says, “Our landlord. That’s what.”
I need a few seconds to take it in.
“We had to move into this shitty studio apartment after my dad died,” he adds.
“Wait, so you got into a fight with your landlord?”
He seems reluctant to tell me more.
“Kane.” It comes out as a warning.
“Yeah,” he admits, his voice thick with shame.
The worst-case scenarios multiplying in my head are giving me a migraine. “But… why would he attack you?”
“He didn’t attack me. I attacked him.”
“What? Why?”
He curses beneath his breath and drops back down onto the couch, propping his elbows on his parted knees and burying his face in his hands. “It doesn’t fucking matter. It’s over.”
I sit down next to him. “It matters to me.”
“Look…” His eyes find mine. “All you need to know is, he was an asshole with wandering hands.”
“I don’t understand.”
My confusion makes him snap. “He wanted my mom to fuck him. Understand now?”
My heart cracks.
“Oh.” I bite down on my lip so hard I hurt myself.
“She couldn’t pay the rent and…” He can barely bring himself to say it. “He told her to pay him a different way.”