before cutting myself off and realizing that not only is this way too deep but it’s also too soon, especially for him.
“What is it?” he murmurs, never taking his eyes off me.
My eyes drop to the grape rolling between my fingers. “It’s nothing.”
“Ocean.”
Fuck. Why does he have to say my name like that? His voice is low and filled with authority. Why do I want him to know me so badly? Not just the me that I allow the outside world to see, but the version of me that I keep private. The one that only my four boys and my mom know exist.
My eyes raise back to meet his and as they stare into mine, the words start falling from my lips. “Have you ever looked into my father’s murder?”
He shakes his head ever so slightly. “Should I have?”
“No,” I say. “I’m kinda glad you haven’t. It’s not exactly something I want being public knowledge.”
He nods in understanding. “What are you trying to tell me that you keep dancing around?”
I let out a soft sigh and find the courage building within me. “I was the one to find him lying there with the … you know, and all the blood ...”
Colton’s brow arches and he watches me for a silent second before adjusting his position on the couch and patting the empty space beside him. I move instantly.
I crawl along the couch until I’m pressed into his side and his lips are firmly against my temples. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “Finding my father was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I can't imagine how bad it would have been had I actually had a good relationship with him.”
“Mmhmm,” I agree, knowing all too well as I slip the strap of my tank off my shoulder and show him my tattoo. “See the outline of the tattoo?” I ask, watching as his gaze travels over my heated skin and waiting for his nod to go on. “I don’t know if this makes me morbid or just weird, but the outline is the same shape as the pool of blood that surrounded him. I never wanted to forget it so I had it tattooed over my shoulder then added the flowers to remind me that he’s in a better place now. Knowing that he’s up there somewhere, no longer struggling or stressed is the silver lining.”
Colton’s fingers trace over the flowers and I close my eyes, melting into his touch. His lips press against my shoulder and as I turn to look down at him, he raises his chin to meet mine. He captures my lips and sparks fly, just as they do every time they’re on mine.
Colton takes my waist and lifts me until I’m straddled over his hips but the longer his lips move against mine, the more something pulls within me. I place my hand against his chest and feel his heart racing beneath my touch. I gently pull back from him and he looks up at me, his brows furrowing as he takes in the hesitation on my face.
“What’s wrong?” he murmurs, his voice wrapping around me like the softest caress as his thumbs roam up and down my waist.
I bite down on my bottom lip, unsure if I should really be telling him this. To know that I’ve been holding onto this little piece of information might just undo everything that we’ve been able to get past over the last week. The fear of having him pull away tears at my soul but what kind of person would I be if I kept this from him?
“You really haven’t looked up anything about my father’s death?”
His brows furrow and his hands stop moving on my waist. “No. Why?”
I glance away, unable to handle the intensity shining through his hazel eyes. “Please don’t hate me.”
“Hate you?” he scoffs. “What’s going on, Jade?”
I let out a heavy sigh, feeling the guilt build against my soul. “My father was stabbed with a silver, 12-inch dagger that pierced through his heart from his back. It was old, and the design on the hilt was intricate and obviously handmade.”
Colton’s face drops a little more with every word I say until he’s looking at me in complete confusion. “What are you saying, Ocean?”
“I’m saying that the dagger that killed my father was the exact same dagger that I saw protruding from your father’s chest last week.”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “That’s not possible.”