“Fucker,” muttered Jax.

My eyes opened wide and I started to defend my dad, but stopped myself. Yeah, he was kind of a fucker. I’d accepted that long ago. The next breath I took was easier. “I’ve never talked to anyone about this. Not even my friends at home. It’s not like I haven’t . . . dealt with it, because I have. I was young when all of this happened and I still miss my brothers. It’s just so damn sad.”

“It is.”

Our gazes met, and I felt my heart turn over heavily in my chest. I knew he wasn’t done.

“I know this isn’t the only thing.” He lifted a hand and trailed a finger along the length of my scar. “I know you have other scars.”

I couldn’t look away. Damn if I didn’t want to, but his gaze held me, and his eyes were warm, they were focused.

“And I know you were burned, Calla.” At that, my chest clenched with a mixture of embarrassment and relief. “I know you had surgeries and I know those surgeries stopped before they were supposed to.”

“Mom . . . she . . .”

“She got caught up in her own shit. She forgot or she couldn’t deal,” he confirmed. “She never really said why, and I know this doesn’t make anything better, but she felt a hell of a lot of guilt over it. That much is obvious.”

Yeah, that didn’t change anything. It never would. I didn’t know if that made me a cold bitch or not, but some things couldn’t be easily forgotten. They weren’t designed that way.

“I’ve never . . . no one has ever seen the scars,” I said in a voice barely above a whisper. “They’re not pretty.”

“They’re a part of you.”

I nodded slowly. My thoughts where awhirl again as my gaze searched out his. He’d known from day one that there were a lot of scars I was hiding. Hell, he’d known before he even laid eyes on me, because of my mom and Clyde. I wasn’t sure what to think of them telling someone who had been a virtual stranger to me, but I couldn’t muster up the anger over that. I couldn’t dredge up any more emotion as I stared at him. “You like me.”

His lips twitched. “Not a news flash, honey. I like you, knowing that the scars are a part of you.”

“But how?” It wasn’t the first time I asked him this.

“I’ve already told you how.” Both hands were back on my waist again, and my breath caught. “I think it’s past time for me to just show you.”

My brows rose. “Show me?”

“Yeah, show you.”

His hands curved under my arms as he lifted me up, and I tightened my hold on my drink. He moved me until I was closer to the headboard, smack dab in the middle of the bed. He reached between us, took my fruit punch, and placed it on the nightstand.