Page 14 of Undone

Does he still have it?

I shake my head at the inane question—it’s a tattoo, it doesn’t magically disappear.

And yet, my anxiety spikes at the possibility that it’s been obscured by something. That maybe he was so angry with me he covered it up. I don’t want to ask him to take his shirt off again, but I didn’t look for it before. I was too focused on the new images he’s permanently inked to his body.

“Lily,” he says again, eyes more intense now when I look back at them. “Answer the question.”

Right.

“Um . . .” I look down at the boots I chose today. They add a solid two inches to my five-foot frame—not nearly enough to make me level with Toren’s eyes. “I, um . . . I don’t go to Harvard anymore.”

“You dropped out?”

Hesitating for a little too long, I finally nod. It’s a lie but it’s easier than explaining that I’d flunked out after one year. That, despite my father’s interference and donations, I couldn’t keep up.

“It’s embarrassing, Lillian.” My father’s voice echoes.

It is embarrassing. And Toren doesn’t need to know.

“That’s not an answer to my question,” he complains, but his voice is soft and quiet. Endless patience, always with me. “What are you doing here at Waterfell?”

“I-I go here now.” Something about the words feel wrong in my mouth, like I didn’t say them right, so I try again. “I mean, I’m a student here now. And my dad is coaching hockey.”

“Right.” He rolls his eyes before leaning his entire body back against the barren wall behind him. He’s careful in every movement, so as not to knock over the hockey sticks and miscellaneous cleaning items that seem to be stashed haphazardly in here. “Goddamn it.”

I mouth the curse while he’s not looking, fighting the memories it brings. He taught me how to curse—all kinds of swear words, though I’d never used them much.

“You play here?” I ask, biting my lip. “Does that mean I get to watch you play again?”

My brain feels slow, like sludge. I don’t think I’m making much sense.

“Not if I can fucking help it,” he says, words half muffled by the hand pressing across his face. My own face feels a little hot, embarrassment making my stomach hurt as I stand there beneath his almost oppressive presence.

What the hell is his problem?

Just like always when it comes to Toren Kane, I’m easily provoked. From zero to one hundred with the snap of his tattooed fingers.

“Why are you being so mean?” I ask, pushing him back from me, frustration creasing my brow. “I didn’t do anything—”

“I’m not doing this. I need to—” He cuts himself off with a quick shake of his head, hand grabbing for the door handle to unlatch it. Just as he starts to usher me out, he snaps his hand around my waist and tugs me back, shutting and locking the door, before pressing me up against it. His hand covers my mouth.

“Tor—”

“Quiet,” he snaps.

Heat simmers low in my belly immediately. My reaction to him physically just as strong as it’s always been. Almost four years without his touch and it feels like I know him just as intimately.

My breath saws out of me, hot and racing, puffing against his massive palm.

He leans down, ducking his head to press his lips to my left ear. “Your dad was right there.” He chuckles lightly, no humor in it, all smoky and warm. “I’m sure he’s looking for you.”

I hope not. I’d already met with him this morning, getting berated before my first coffee, not the start to the day I’d wanted. But it wouldn’t surprise me if he was checking to make sure I wasn’t hanging around still—I wonder how long he planned to hide this big of a secret from me.

I should go out there. Find the courage that used to be mine and confront him.

But . . . maybe I’d prefer to just stay here, with Toren Kane finally pressed against my skin again.

“Breathe for me, Lily.” Toren’s breath is warm and hot on my sticky skin. Another keening cry leaves my parted mouth. “Deep breath. That’s it, Lil. You can take it.”