Troublemaker - Lisa B. Kamps Page 0,17

hurt you, Morgan?"

"What?"

"Who hurt you? Was it your fiancé? Is that why you left him?"

She slid to the corner of the sofa and stared at me like I'd suddenly lost my mind. Maybe I had, because the urge to do bodily harm to the piece of shit who had dared touch Morgan still gripped me.

"Nobody hurt me. And no, that's not why I left him."

"Then who was it?"

"Nobody."

"Why are you protecting him?"

"I'm not protecting anyone because nobody hurt me!" She flung the blanket to the side and jumped to her feet. "Why are you so convinced somebody hurt me?"

"Because of how you're acting." I reached up and touched the bandage under my eyes then dropped my hand. "It's just a cut, part of the game, and you're acting like someone beat the living shit out of me."

"And maybe you got hit in the head harder than it looked because you're not making any sense."

"I didn't get hit in the head."

"No? Sorry, I couldn't really tell with the way the fists were flying."

"It's just part of the game!"

"It's barbaric."

I rounded the sofa and stopped a foot away from her. She was tall and slender but she still had to tilt her head back to look at me. Anger flashed in the depths of her eyes but there was other emotion in there as well. Sympathy. Sorrow. Regret.

Irritation.

I almost smiled when I saw that last one but stopped myself, figuring she might very well haul off and slug me if I did. Well, maybe not slug, not with her aversion to fighting, but I was sure she'd do something.

"It's just a game, Morgan. It's what we do. And it doesn't happen that often."

"Then I guess I was just lucky tonight, huh?"

"Why does it bother you so much?"

"I told you why."

"No, you told me what you thought of it. There's a difference."

"Not to me."

"Who hurt you, Morgan?"

"Nobody." I didn't miss the hesitation in her voice, or the way she chose that exact second to look away.

"Morgan—" I reached for her but she stepped away before I could touch her. Her gaze darted to mine then just as quickly darted away. She lowered herself to the sofa and grabbed the pillow, holding it in front of her like a shield.

"Not me." She tightened her arms around the pillow and focused on one of the prints hanging on the opposite wall. "My mother and one of her boyfriends."

"Your father?"

"No, not my father. I, um, I never met him. I don't even know who he is, Mom never told me. For all I know, she might not even know."

I filed that tidbit of information away without commenting on it. There was nothing I could say, no way to respond, especially since it was obvious that Morgan didn't want to talk about it.

I took a seat on the sofa next to her. Not so close that we were touching, but close enough that my presence might comfort her. Maybe. At least she didn't slide away or tell me to get lost. "He hit her?"

"They hit each other. Trust me, sometimes Mom was just as bad as he was. It was like having front row seats to a live wrestling match at least twice a month."

"How old were you?"

"Six, I think. Maybe seven. They weren't together for very long, just over a year."

"That doesn't change anything."

"Maybe not." She shifted and looked up at me for a few seconds. Then her brows pulled low over eyes flashing with more of the irritation I'd seen earlier. "I don't want your sympathy, okay? That's not why I told you."

"I wasn't—"

"Don't lie because I can see it clear as day in your eyes. I'm a big girl, Dylan. A survivor. And what happened then was a lifetime ago. I barely even remember."

"Obviously. That's why you were so upset tonight."

"I wasn't upset."

"Yeah, okay."

"I wasn't. And it's still barbaric if you ask me."

"It's just a scratch." I reached up and fingered the bandage, actually started to lift one edge of it. "Do you want to see?"

"No!" Her hand shot out and closed over mine. "No, I don't want to see."

"You sure? It's really not that bad."

"I'm sure." She glanced at her hand, still covering mine. Her fingers tightened for a brief second before she pulled her hand away. "Does it hurt?"

"If I say yes, will you kiss it and make it better?" And whoa. Holy shit. Where the hell did that come from? Whether I'd been teasing or not, this wasn't the time to