Beneath These Scars (Beneath #4)(78)

The story poured out of Lucas. “My father was a brilliant, crazy-as-f*ck R&D director. Think Steve Jobs, but with more screws loose. He pioneered technology decades before its time. He’s the one who got me interested in science and business. But he only understood the science side of the house, and not business.”

Lucas looked up, revealing the torment on his face. “Learning from him, I developed a concept that he called stupid, ridiculous, and idiotic—and he called me all the same things. But it wasn’t, and I wasn’t. I knew it then, and I know it now. It’s what I’ve been working so hard to launch. I’ve been working on it since I was sixteen. He was a perfectionist, driven to extremes in every area of life. No one was safe from his scrutiny. He could invent beautiful technology, but with people, he only knew how to destroy.”

When he paused for a moment, I sat on the bed beside him and wrapped my hand around his arm. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Lucas turned his gaze on me, his eyes hard, colder than I’d ever seen them. “This is the only way you’ll understand when I say I’m not a good man, I’m telling you the truth.”

Jerome spoke. “Maybe you should take this somewhere private, because I’m going to want to interrupt with the facts, as you clearly don’t understand the truth of the matter.”

Lucas shoved to his feet, and I dropped my grip on him. “The truth is that I baited him that day. I told him he couldn’t climb that peak, that he was too old. He’d been livid. Backhanded me. When he’d carried gear to the car, I’d known that the day would change everything—because I was going to show him that there was something I could do that he couldn’t. His competitive streak wouldn’t allow him to quit.” His jaw ticked as he clenched it. “Neither of us should have been up there that day. I was so far beyond my ability, it was an accident waiting to happen.”

“An accident is exactly what it was, Lucas,” Jerome interjected.

“No. When the rope slipped and shredded on that rock, I had time. I could’ve grabbed it. I waited too long—”

“And then went over a cliff to try to save him, nearly killing yourself in the process and landing in the hospital for three weeks.”

My eyes jerked to Lucas. The scars on his forearm that I’d never asked about, because I didn’t like to talk about mine. The slice of a scar that ran through his eyebrow and up into his hairline. It was all coming together.

I touched the raised white line on his forearm now. “No one makes it through life without scars. It’s impossible. But they’re not signs of shame; they’re badges of honor showing that you fought and survived. That’s why I’ve never hidden mine, but you’ve never moved on.”

Lucas’s words came out sharp. “And you have?”

“I have now. And you’re the reason why.”

“I’m the worst reason.” Lucas shoved to his feet and strode out of the room.

I started after him, but Jerome’s voice stopped me.

“His father tore him down at every opportunity, made him believe he was unworthy—of affection, love, of anything. He’s spent every minute of every day proving him wrong, and yet he still doesn’t believe he’s done enough. He persists in seeing himself as the villain.”

“If his father were alive, I’d throw him down a mountain myself.”

“He was not a good man. But his son is.”

I headed for the door. “You don’t have to tell me that. I already know.” I reached the hallway, but there was no sign of Lucas.

I stopped at the nurses’ station. “You see a big, black-haired man stomp through here?”

She smiled. “That hot one? Oh yeah. He headed for the elevator. Said he needed some air and to call if anything changed.”

“Thank you.” I skipped the elevator and went for the stairs. By the time I reached the bottom—four floors—I realized I’d made a mistake. Hot. Damn. My side and neck burned.

I pushed open the heavy door, and Lucas was walking through the exit.

“Wait, damn it!” I huffed, leaning heavily on the wall.

Lucas spun and strode toward me. “What the hell are you doing?” he growled when he reached my side.

I wheezed out a breath. “I ran down. The stairs.”

He looked around. “We need to find a nurse. Make sure you didn’t tear open your stitches.”

I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

“Stubborn.”

He squatted and lifted me into his arms. My hands went around his neck as I held on.

“Take me outside. I want air too.”

“You need—”

“You. I need you, Lucas,” I interrupted. “That’s all.”

His arms tightened around me. “I’m not—”

I slid one hand to the side of his face and forced him to look at me. “Do you care about me?” I asked. It was time to lay it all out.

“What the hell kind of question is that? And we’re taking this conversation somewhere more private.” He turned and carried me through the exit and down the sidewalk to a bench. It was after midnight, and the place was deserted. He lowered me and began to pace.

“It kind of hurts my neck to keep swinging my head back and forth, so if you could just hold still, that’d be great.”