I drove back to my apartment in a complete daze, barely remembering any of the trip itself. In the back of my head, I knew I’d been lucky not to hurt myself or someone else, but the majority of my brain was caught up with the horror of Jalen having seen my scar.

Jenna explained that she hadn’t gotten plastic surgery on any of her scars because, to her, the scars meant she’d survived. Mine was the result of surviving when I shouldn’t have, but it was also a reminder of everything I’d lost, of the life I could never get back.

I’d managed to put all of that behind me, and while my life was far from perfect, I’d been as happy as I’d ever expected to be. Then I’d taken Jalen’s case, and everything had gone to hell. I’d been willing to accept things being complicated when I planned on being an FBI agent, but once that dream was no longer a possibility, I’d been great with settling for something simple.

I closed the apartment door behind me, finally letting out the choking sob that had been clawing at my throat from the moment Jalen walked into the bathroom. I sank to the floor next to the door and pressed my face against my knees.

It was too much happening all at once. The physical strain of being beaten up, not sleeping or eating right, and rough sex combined with the adrenaline from all of that plus the investigation itself. My emotions had been subjected to as much of a rollercoaster ride as the rest of me, and that had been the last straw.

“Rona?”

My name was followed by a knock on the door.

“Go away, Jalen.” My voice was muffled, but I didn’t doubt he could hear me. “The case is done.”

“I’m not here about the damn case, and you know it.”

He sounded annoyed, and that was enough to get me to raise my head. I wiped my cheeks and took a couple shaky breaths.

“We don’t need to have the talk,” I said, closing my eyes. “I get it. You can walk away without feeling guilty.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He slapped the door with his palm. “Do you really think I’m so shallow that I’d care about a scar?”

A stab of guilt cut through my self-pity. I was being unfair to him. He at least deserved to say his piece. Maybe hearing it would let me deal with things out of anger rather than this unbearable mixture of grief and longing.

I pushed myself to my feet and opened the door mid-knock. I stepped back and let him inside, not looking at him as he passed by.

“You said we could start over,” he began. “I wanted to do this right. Talk to each other instead of jumping to conclusions.”

“You’re right,” I admitted. “I shouldn’t have run away.”

“Why did you?” He closed the distance between us and hooked his finger under my chin, tipping my head back until I could meet his eyes. “Because of a scar? Do you honestly think I’d care about that?”

Sadness filled the small smile that curved my lips. “Even if you didn’t mean to, it’d be on your mind, wanting to know what happened. Thinking about it every time you touch me. Something like that, people don’t look past, no matter how good their intentions.”

He grasped my chin to keep me from looking away and something fierce burned in his eyes. “I won’t lie and say that I don’t want to know the story, and I won’t apologize because it’s as much a part of you as your childhood, your adolescence. It’s one of many things that all make up the amazing woman you are, so yes, I’d like to know. But I’m not going to push you. I’ll only say that I’m here to listen if and when you’re ready to tell me.”

A small ray of hope bloomed inside me. “Are you sure you can handle that?”

He rested his palm on the side of my face as he wrapped one arm around my waist. “I’m not rushing us into anything. Right now, it’s about us liking to spend time together.”

“You mean we like fucking each other.”

He laughed. “Definitely that.” His thumb brushed against the corner of my mouth. “What do you say we give this a shot? Slow. No labels or expectations other than neither one of us hooking up with anyone else. We talk and ask questions, but if we don’t feel comfortable answering, we let it go. Secrets are okay but lies aren’t.”

I thought for a moment, turning his words over and over in my mind. “Okay.”

The hand on my cheek moved to cup the back of my head as he lowered his mouth to mine. The tip of his tongue traced the seam of my mouth as he pulled me flush against him. My nipples hardened into little points, and without my bra, they were on display for anyone who cared to look. It didn’t matter that I was still sore from being with him only a couple hours ago. I wanted him again. Whatever this connection was between us, my appetite for him was proving to be insatiable.

He slid the hand on my waist down to my ass, squeezing as he kept our bodies pressed together. He was hard, and I knew if I took him in my hand right now, it would be so easy to have him inside me again. Zipper down. Pull him out. Pants down. One thrust, and he could take me right here against the wall, and all I’d do was beg for more.

Before any of that could translate from imagination to reality, my phone rang.

I reluctantly disentangled myself from Jalen and dug in my purse. The screen showed a number I didn’t recognize, but with everything that had been going on recently, it was better to answer the phone and deal with a sales call than miss something important.

“Hello?”

“Hello. May I speak with Rona Quick?”

“This is she.”

“My name is April, and I was asked to call you.”

I froze. Had my father contacted someone to reach out to me and try to talk me out of testifying against him again? “Asked by who?”

“Adare Burkart. She’s in the hospital.”