Page 56 of Combust (Everyday Heroes 2)
“I find that hard to believe, Grady.”
“It’s true.”
“Are you telling me that your brothers and your parents are disgusted by them? Of you? What about Mallory?”
His laugh is unexpected and confusing. “Christ. Is it embarrassing to say I’ve always left a shirt on with her? Either that or made damn sure the room was dark.”
His insecurities hit a chord with me. One I know all too well but am not exactly sure how to give a voice to . . . so I remain quiet.
“You’re the first person I’ve been with since and not kept a shirt on. I was pent-up on adrenaline—”
“Alcohol,” I correct because that’s surely why he slept with me.
“No. I wasn’t drunk. You don’t get to hide behind the alcohol to explain why we’re here right now.”
“And you don’t get to hide behind your shirt and scars to ignore me at other times, either,” I counter, hating that he has seen straight through my thought process.
“Not wearing a shirt was an oversight I’ve never made with others,” he says, ignoring my comment. “One I didn’t realize until I woke up.”
“I’m not sure if I should be offended that you’re mentioning the many others you’ve been with or I should take it as a compliment that you feel comfortable enough with me that you forgot,” I say to try to ease the discord he feels.
“Or option C: the sex was so good that I fell into a coma afterward and didn’t think twice about it.”
“Option C could have been a definite possibility,” I murmur and acknowledge to myself his knack for falling back on humor when he’s uncomfortable.
“There haven’t been that many women since, you know.”
“Wild-child, Grady Malone? I highly doubt that.”
He chuckles, but then it fades and falls flat. “You’d be amazed by how much all of this has put people off.”
My heart hurts for him and the disgrace that taints every word he speaks. “I’m not scared, Grady. I’m not put off.” The words are barely audible, but by the slight nod of his head, I know he heard me. “You don’t have to wear a shirt around me. Hell, I have mermaid thighs and hips for days and one ab to your eight for God’s sake.”
“I don’t have a single complaint about any of those traits of yours. In fact, I seem to like your thighs and hips and—”
“Ha. You like what’s between them is what you’re saying.”
“This is true,” he muses.
“Let me tell you, those traits of mine are all much worse than the badge of honor you wear on your back.”
The muscle beneath my hand tenses as he physically rejects what I’m saying. “Christ, Dylan—”
“Don’t.” I stop him from arguing with me because it’s my turn to make him feel better about himself—even if it’s at my own expense. “I’m well aware I’m not svelte, so no need to try to stroke my ego.”
“You’re beautiful.”
“And so are you,” I whisper, leaning my head forward and pressing my lips ever so softly to the top of his shoulder in an effort to reinforce the words. His body flinches and his breath hitches as I make him uncomfortable but for all the right reasons.
“I’ll be the first to admit I’m a vain son of a bitch. If you knew how many hours I spent in the gym before the fire, you would probably laugh. I was obsessed with adding definition to this muscle group or that one, and then I’d walk around shirtless to show them off. To be admired. My ego didn’t need any stroking, that’s for sure.”
“You were proud of your body. That’s something I’ll never be, so I’m sure I’d be the same.”
“I felt like the fire was fate’s way of telling me it didn’t matter how damn perfect I was because there were other things that were way more important. It’s like I was marked for being self-centered.”
“I disagree with you.”
“Yeah, well, I used to work out because it was the way to feed my ego. Now I work out to save my soul.” His words strike me to the core. A fresh round of tears well, and I fight them back, trying not to think about him alone in the gym, struggling against some unforeseen beast in his mind. “Most nights I go late because there is no one there to watch me. I go late because when my skin tears like it did last night, it bleeds through my shirt . . . and that’s the last thing I need people to see, to gossip about, or pity me for.”
