Page 113 of Undertow

“I’ve seen your scars,” she says finally. “Is that what they’re from?”

“Some.”

“And the rest?”

“You know how trees tell time with their rings? I guess my scars are my rings. Read them, and you know my story.”

“Like blood spatter?”

My eyes snap to hers. “You saw that entry in my journal.”

“It was the most disgusting, beautiful thing I’ve ever read. Stories being told in blood?”

“Which is why the story is up for interpretation.”

“Have you killed anyone, Jonah?”

The name slams me in my gut. Takes my breath away. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to hearing it again. I should have lied. Would it have been a lie? Who is Jonah? In a wayhe’sthe lie, not everyone else I’ve become.

“Yes,” I say, meeting her gaze. Her eyes widen, then soften when I add, “but not bymy hand.”

“The person died because they wanted to help you?”

I shake my head. “No one ever knew I needed help until it was too late.”

“Except Gramps?”

I lower my gaze and pull in a steadying breath. “Yes. Except him.”

“But he doesn’t know you were drawn back in.”

“No. When they called to say they found us and gave me the ultimatum, I told him I got accepted into a university. He was dying, fading away from years of strain and lack of care as aresult of being on the run. He was going to die if he didn’t get help.”

I clench my eyes shut. Heat presses on the back of my lids, along with memories I will never escape no matter how far I run or how many cleansing stings I absorb in a scalding shower.

“Shaw…” Julia whispers.

I don’t correct her. IamShaw. And Roman. And Everett. And every other name I’ve adopted over the years.

Her soft hand spreads over my cheek, wordlessly begging me to look at her.

“So you went back,” she finishes for me.

I nod and face her compassion again. “I had to.”

Tears glisten in her eyes as she gently strokes my damaged cheek with her thumb.

I don’t know how she can believe me after all the lies, but maybe that’s exactly why she does. Our souls have seen the truth in each other since the beginning. They knew what our brains didn’t, and now they’re screaming to be heard.

“Shaw, do you love me?”

“More than anything.”

“Did you have sex with me because you had to or because you wanted to?”

“I had sex with you because I didn’t know how to resist the only beautiful thing I’ve ever felt.”

A sob escapes her as she leans in and wraps her arms around me.