Page 207 of Fighting Chance

Swallowing thickly, I hold the words close to my heart, the little girl in me that grew up reading romance books and would dream of the day someone would love her like the stories sighs contentedly.

“This is rare, isn’t it?” I say after a beat.

He leans forward, placing a featherlight kiss against my head, the touch sending a shiver down my spine. “Extremely.”

“Then we have to cherish it.”

He wraps an arm around my waist. “I plan on doing more than just cherishing.”

I quirk a brow. “Care to elaborate?”

He shakes his head slowly. “No, I just plan on loving you every day for the rest of my life.”

“That’s a long commitment,” I murmur after it takes me an ungodly amount of time to find my voice.

“Easy to commit when it’s you.” His features grow serious, grave, making me steel myself as he whispers, “You’re it for me, Layla. I’ve known that for a long time now.” He smirks. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but I’m slightly obsessed with you.”

I tease, “What could have ever given it away? Perhaps the handmade bookshelf?”

His laugh jostles me. “Cheeky,” he teases.

Laying my head back down on his chest, with his arm around my waist, I begin to trace his tattoos.

Kieran tenses beneath me.

I peer down at the snake tattoo wrapped around his forearm, peppered by small intricate designs, but I stop on the snake’s head, my finger swiping back and forth over the raised bump. “What does this cover up?”

He studies me. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“I want to know every part of you.”

“The bad included?”

“Especially the bad,” I whisper. “I want it all, Kieran. I can handle it, I promise.”

He’s quiet for a moment before he swallows, his Adam apple bobbing as his gaze cuts down to his forearm. “That particular punishment was because the matron caught me sneaking into the kitchen and trying to steal food after she put me on a food ban.” The temperature in the room plummets. “I hadn’t eaten in over two days at that point. I was in physical pain I was so hungry.”

His words trail off and I don’t realize I’m crying until I see one of my tears land on the head of the snake tattoo.

“She took the knife that I was using to jimmy the lock on the pantry and stabbed it in my forearm.” He blows out a breath. “I needed four stitches.”

“And the hospital never questioned it?” I ask, surprising myself with the vengeance in my tone.

He shakes his head, giving me a sad smile. “The matron is a clinical nurse. She bandaged and stitched us up after her beatings and punishments if they were severe.”

Swiping away another tear, I peer back down at his forearm. My fingers move slowly and catch another scar just two inches away, along the snake’s body, this one round and peppered.

“And this?” I ask, my voice wobbly.

“Her cigarette. Apparently the leaves in the backyard weren’t raked to her liking.”

My throat burns with a sob.

“And this one?” I ask when I find another.

“The whip.”

Another.