Trouble (Dogwood Lane #3)(66)

I wait for his reaction. His eyes are glued to the two dice on my ribs, the two dice that are the same two as on his forearm. His weren’t there when we were together before, and I can’t help but wonder why they’re there now.

He reaches forward and grips the backs of my legs and pulls me into him. His cheek buries into my stomach as he holds me the tightest I’ve ever been held.

I cradle his head in my arms and pull him against me.

My emotions are scattered across the room, blending together into a muddled masterpiece. I don’t know what I feel or what I’m supposed to feel or what I even want to feel. Did I just lose him? Was he mine to lose? Do I want him? Can I risk that?

We stay like that for a long minute before he pulls back. His eyes are raw, the shields down as he peers up at me with a vulnerability that rips my heart out.

“I should’ve told you,” I whisper.

He nods.

“I was going to. Today. But then we were kissing before I could get it out . . .” I exhale sharply. “That’s how you knew. You saw my tattoo.”

He stands, giving me time to back up. His expression is pained. “Yeah. I wasn’t expecting to see that. I don’t really know what I said or how I made you feel, and again, I’m sorry about that.”

“I’m sorry for not telling you.”

“When did you know it?” he asks.

I smile sadly. “As soon as I looked at you.”

This pleases him. I can tell. He runs a hand over his mouth as he paces a small circle in my room. I give him the space to work things out in his head. I’ve had time to think about this, to work it out in my head. I’m sure he needs time to process it too.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he stops.

“Why did you leave?” he asks. “Why did you give me a fake name?”

I take a deep breath, my room suddenly too small.

“I left because my mother summoned me. She called crying the next morning, saying she couldn’t get through my father’s affair without me being home. And I have to say, I really thought she might be serious, and I was thrilled she wanted me around.” I throw my shoulders back. “But she didn’t. She just wanted me to tell her attorney that I’d met my father’s mistress to help her case.”

“What a bitch. Pardon my language.”

“It’s the reason I didn’t tell you my name. I could’ve said I was Avery, I guess, but I didn’t know if you knew that Harper was my mom’s sister, and I just wanted to not be me for a night. For one night, I just wanted to be anonymous. Angry. Pissed off at the world. I wanted someone to like me without knowing I was Jasmine Perry’s daughter.”

His body stills. “I’d have liked you regardless of whose daughter you were.”

I smile at him. “But you know what I mean, right? You felt like people judged you because of your family. That’s what I was afraid of. I just wanted complete anonymity to feel whatever I wanted to.”

He picks at a tiny hole in the thigh of his jeans. “I can understand that.” His gaze flips up to mine. “That’s the night I put my dad in jail.”

I blink once. Twice. My heart crushes against my ribs as I watch an unnamed emotion pass through his eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me that?” I whisper.

“Because I didn’t want you to know that’s the kind of family I was from. So like I said, I can understand that.”

He goes back to fiddling with the hole in his jeans.

I stand in front of him. Reaching out, I take his face in my hands and lift his chin. I look him right in the eye so he doesn’t miss a word I say.

“I would’ve liked you no matter what family you were from too,” I tell him.

He takes a breath and lets that settle over him. Finally, he grins. “Thanks.”

I release him and back away.

As if a piece of my life has been snapped into place, I feel a serenity like never before. And as I watch Penn watch me, I realize there’s a peace between us, too, in a way I couldn’t have imagined.

“Abby made such an impression on me,” he says cheekily, “that I got a tattoo for her.”

“The dice?”

He nods. “She was the only person that I felt like didn’t judge me, make excuses for me, or blow me off.”

I grin. “I think I kind of did blow you off that night, if you catch my drift.”

He laughs, his dimple setting deep in his cheek.

I take his hand and pull him to my bed. We sit together quietly, our hands locked together with an intensity that I’m not sure either of us means to happen but neither of us pulls away from. Having him here like this is the most intimate moment I’ve ever had with a man, because we’re sharing something that matters. We’re choosing to participate in this, even though it isn’t easy. Even though it kind of hurts a bit. Even though it could change everything.

“I was embarrassed that you didn’t recognize me at first,” I say softly. “And then, once I didn’t say anything, it was kind of hard to just bring it up. I was stuck and I didn’t know what to do, but I was going to tell you today.”

He shakes his head. “I was just shocked. I’ve thought about that emo girl named Abby over the years, wondering what happened to her. I’d almost convinced myself that I made her up as a coping mechanism or something.” He blushes. “I saw that on a television show once.”