“That was fucking amazing.” I press my lips against the top of her head.
“You were right,” Jazzy says.
“About what?”
“You have improved since we were teenagers.” She giggles and then stops. “But that means you’ve had a lot of practice.” She looks up at me, her nose wrinkled in disgust.
“Not a lot.” I’m not going to lie. We’ve both dated other people over the years. Well, she’s dated. I’ve fucked. I never let anyone get close to me.
“What really happened, Jake?” Jazzy asks.
“When?”
“On prom night? What really happened that made you leave?”
I stiffen. I’ve managed to avoid telling her exactly what I did on prom night. “I just got you back, Jazzy. I don’t want to lose you again.”
“Why would telling me what happened make you lose me?”
“Because if you knew what I did, you’d hate me. You would think I was a monster.”
“I could never hate you, Jake,” she says. “I should hate you. You left me to wake up alone after taking my virginity. That should make me hate you, and I still can’t.”
“You know you weren’t the only virgin that night,” I remind her. “You keep saying I took your virginity. You also took mine.”
“I know.” She smiles. “Seriously though, just tell me.”
I close my eyes. Maybe telling her will show her once and for all that she should stay away from me. Because God knows I don’t have the strength to do it myself. “Remember that douchebag you were supposed to go to prom with?”
“Lochlan,” she says, remembering the asshole way too fast.
“Yeah,” I groan.
“What about him?”
“I overheard him in the locker room, talking about how he was going to pop your cherry. I lost it. I followed him home from school, waited for him to be alone, and then I snapped.”
“What do you meanyou snapped?” Jazzy asks.
My arms tighten around her. Afraid if I don’t hold her tight, she’s going to run away. “I beat the shit out of him. I know I broke his ankle—that bit, I did on purpose.”
“Whatbitdidn’t you do on purpose?”
“I killed him, Jazzy. I didn’t mean to, but once I started, I couldn’t stop,” I admit.
She stares up at me, blinking but not saying anything. “You killed him?”
“I swear I didn’t mean to do it. I just… didn’t stop when I should have.”
“What happened after that?”
“I called my father. I didn’t know what to do.” I sigh.
“What you should have done was call me. I could have helped you. Iwould havehelped you.”
“I didn’t want you to find out… I know how much you hate what your family does, the violence. The last thing I wanted was for you to think I was just as violent.”
“What did your father do?” she asks.