My nerves were shot as I hung up with Ronan. I hadn’t talked to him about what had happened at the arcade because Reese had already done that. I’d only called the man to find out how Georgie was doing.

On any other day, I would have been thrilled to learn she’d fallen asleep on the couch with Jamie while watching a movie… it meant that maybe things were getting a little back to normal for her. But the small victory felt hollow considering how the night had gone from one of my best to a complete mess.

After leaving the arcade, Reese had made phone calls to several people, including to Ronan and someone who worked for Reese’s father—a publicist or something, from what I could tell of the conversation. He’d told the person on the other line that he’d been spotted in public in a potentially compromising position with another man and asked how he should handle it. When he’d hung up, he’d gone silent.

Completely silent.

So that was it.

I was nothing more than a “compromising position” that needed handling. Gone had been our fun date and silly flirting. Reese hadn’t touched me again after helping me into the car outside the arcade, and when we’d gotten back to the cabin, he’d disappeared into the bathroom we were sharing.

I was so angry, I wanted to punch that stupid guy at the arcade who’d ruined our evening. And I wanted to punch Reese even more because, in reality, he’d ruined it by refusing to talk to me about the whole thing. The sexy, sweet, kind-of-awkward-in-an-adorable-way man had turned into an emotionally distant jerk who’d treated me no better than the other few guys I’d tried “dating” before I’d realized a twenty-something-year-old guy with a kid sister to look after wasn’t much of a catch. Most guys usually didn’t even wait until the morning after a night of mediocre sex to tell me as much.

Reese hadn’t even given us the chance to have what I suspected would have been way better than “mediocre” sex.

As I sat on the end of the bed—the one I never actually slept the full night in because I was always snuggling up to Reese on the floor the second he fell asleep—my brain was telling me to go to Georgie’s room and sleep there… to let this whole thing go and hope all would be forgotten by morning.

But my heart wasn’t willing to settle for being trampled yet again without some kind of explanation.

He’d cared, damn it.

Reese had cared! He’d been sweet to me, and the way he’d treated Georgie…

“No,” I whispered under my breath as I shook my head. No, he didn’t get to do this to me. He’d have to tell me to my face that I wasn’t good enough for him.

I was up and striding to the bathroom before the voice in my head could warn me not to push any of this. What was I fighting for, anyway? Did I really think this could work? Nothing about me and Reese made sense—we lived on two different sides of the country, for god’s sake. He was a gorgeous, badass security professional who carried a gun around like it was an extension of his body. He saved people’s lives while I just played at being the hero in video games.

All those arguments made perfect sense in my head, but all my heart could think was… mine.

Reese was mine.

Mine.

That word played on a loop as I threw the bathroom door open without knocking. Fortunately, he hadn’t locked it or my show of bravado would have come to a humiliating end.

Reese’s back was to me as he leaned against the sink, the water running from the faucet. His hands were fisted, which gave me pause, but my defiant heart had me opening my mouth to tell him what a dick I thought he was being.

Until my eyes fell on his arms.

His exposed arms.

At some point, he’d rolled up the sleeves of his button-down shirt, presumably to wash his hands, so his forearms were on full display. Instead of speaking, I gasped at the sight of the gnarled, raised flesh on the skin of both arms. The flesh was an unnatural shade of pinks and reds and formed strange patterns. In short, it looked like his arms had been through a meat grinder.

“Reese—” I breathed, completely horrified at the pain he must have felt when he’d suffered the horrific injuries which my gut was telling me were burn wounds.

I must have startled Reese because he spun around and then began yanking his sleeves down. Suddenly all the tugging on his sleeves he’d been doing from the moment we’d met made sense. As did the fact I’d never seen him without a shirt on, or even in short sleeves.

He was ashamed of them.

“Reese,” I said softly as all my anger toward him went up in smoke.

“Get out!” he snapped, his eyes bright with fury. His anger froze my forward movement. “Get the fuck out, Ben!”

“Reese, I don’t—”

“Jesus!” he practically yelled as he spun around and faced the mirror again. I’d never seen him so angry, and while it scared me, I didn’t want to leave him in there alone while he was so upset.

“I’m sorry, Reese, I was just worried—”

Reese cut me off with a violent shake of his head. I felt tears smarting. “Reese, please just talk to me.”

“About what, Ben?” he bit out. “This?” he asked as he whirled toward me and yanked one of his sleeves up enough to show me the scars again. “Or this?” His fingers made quick work of his shirt buttons. I flinched when he pulled the fabric apart to show large patches of skin on his chest that didn’t match the texture and color of his tanned flesh. I didn’t even get a chance to really look at the skin grafts because Reese released the shirt and the folds covered him up again.

“Or maybe you want to talk about the fact that I’m about to get outed to the entire world?”

“I’m sorry, Reese, I know how hard that must be—”

“How can you possibly know, Ben?” he asked coldly. “Did your sex life make national headlines when you came out to those worthless foster parents of yours?”

I couldn’t stop the tears that fell. “Fuck you, Reese,” was all I said, then I turned to leave. This time I wouldn’t make the mistake of stopping for any of Georgie’s and my things. I didn’t care how I did it, but my sister and I were leaving this place. Reese and Griff and the entire Marian clan could go to hell.

“Ben, wait.”

I ignored him, but just as I reached the bathroom door, it slammed shut in my face. I tried to open it, but Reese’s heavy hand held it closed above my head.

“Let go!” I demanded. Tears were blurring my vision, but I didn’t care.

“Ben—”

“I said let go!” I yelled as I suddenly lost my shit and turned on him. I shoved him hard. Pain tore up my injured arm, but it actually felt good… it grounded me in a weird way and gave me strength. I went on the attack and lashed out at Reese with my fists and my words.

“I didn’t have to come out, you asshole!” I shouted. “You want to know why?”

Reese didn’t try to stop me from hitting him other than to hold my injured arm in a way that wouldn’t let me use too much force. Since he wasn’t doing the same to my other arm, I knew it was his way of making sure I didn’t hurt myself.

And that just pissed me off more.

“Why?” Reese asked softly. Gone was the anger and in its place was pity.

“No! You don’t get to play the goddamn hero now! Let me go!” I tried to tug my injured arm free of his hold, but instead of releasing me, he stepped into me. The move forced me backward until I hit the closed door behind me.

“Why didn’t you have to come out?”

I fought the fear and anger and loneliness that was clawing its way to the surface, that moved beneath my skin like a living thing. “Because there was no one to come out to!” I snapped. “My foster parents would have had to give a shit about me to care about something like that! My brother would have had to actually want me in order for him to care about me liking boys instead of girls! Boo hoo, Reese, you had too many people interested in your personal life! It’s better than…”

My lungs felt strained from the exertion and my eyes hurt from the damn tears that wouldn’t stop. And I hated… just fucking hated the pity in his eyes.

“Better than what?” Reese asked.

I shook my head. I was done. “Let me go,” I said, though I didn’t struggle against him. I didn’t have the energy anymore, and honestly, being in his arms was the one place I wanted to be regardless of the words coming out of our mouths.

Reese dropped his mouth to skim my cheek. “Better than what, baby?”

The endearment hurt more than his anger had. He might as well have cut me open with a knife. And as I bled out right there into his hands, I whispered, “Better than not having anyone at all.”