Page 103 of Jensen

I wet my dry lips. “If it matters to you, then yes.”

“It did,” he says. “But I think about it less now.”

It sounds like there was more to that sentence. I wait, but he doesn’t speak.

“Why?”

His palm slides up my bare thigh. “You’re a talker,” he says.

A snarky remark comes up my throat, but I swallow it back. Truthfully, I’m not all that much of a talker. I was quiet for the entire four years I was married to Leland. It wasn’t until I laid eyes on Jensen in the ring that I felt like I had something to say. Maybe because there was finally someone who wanted to listen. Now, I can’t fucking shut up.

“It’s my turn,” he says.

“For what?” I frown.

“Asking you to be honest.”

“There’s really nothing you don’t know already,” I say, shrugging. “Leland is an asshole.”

His touch is gentle, patient, like he’s trying to soothe the truth out of me.

“If that were the case, baby, you’d have told me already,” he says.

My throat tightens. There’s a raw ache where my heart sits. He lifts me off his lap and sets me against the pillows. Then, he disappears down the ladder. His footsteps sound on the lower floor for a moment before he reappears with a bottle of bourbon in his hand.

“Here,” he says, handing it over.

“Trying to get me drunk?” I ask, brow arching.

He shakes his head. “Let’s play a game.”

“A game?” I whisper, wrapping my fingers around the cold glass.

“Every time you want to lie, take a drink,” he says. “The more you drink, the more the truth’s gonna come out. Either way, we’re both fucked, baby.”

I stare down at the open bottle. The top must be downstairs on the counter. I can smell the faint scent of alcohol.

“The cross tattoo,” I say. “What is it?”

“Goddamn,” he says, and he takes the bourbon and drinks from it. “What did Leland do to you?”

I take the bourbon back and have some, shivering as it burns down to my stomach.

“What did Brothers do to you?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” he says. “It was something to do with a job he sent me on. I remember before and the morning after, but not what he said to me that night.”

“Were you drunk?”

He nods, a quick jerk of his head. “I think so. Now, why did you really marry Leland?”

I meet his pale eyes in the dark. He doesn’t back down.

“He got me pregnant,” I whisper. “I was scared. He told me I couldn’t do it without him. My baby is a Caudill, so he wasn’t willing to just walk away.”

A muscle flickers in his jaw. “How did you get pregnant?”

I shrug, unconsciously sliding into my default defense mechanism. “Sex. You know, how it usually goes. We’ve talked about this.”