"When I was younger, I was rash, uncontrollable. Violent. I put my parents through hell. I regret it." I followed the twists and turns of the exposed ductwork overhead as my hand still played along her skin. "I was always getting into fights. I did some other stuff, underground fighting, knocking over convenience stores. Started in high school. I had a juvie rap sheet. Spent some time in jail for brawling. My mother made me straighten up enough to get into LSU. But I lapsed into the same trouble there. I didn't steal anymore, I just fought. I would fight anyone, anytime. I didn't even care about the money I'd make on it. I just had to fight. Almost got kicked out my freshman year."
"Why did you fight?"
"I don't know." It was true. There was just something in me that made me want to battle it out. "I had a lot of anger. Nothing happened to me when I was younger. Nothing traumatic. I just . . ." I shrugged.
"You were a natural-born wild one, then?"
"Pretty much. Not in a good way. Not the way I am now."
"You're still pretty wild if you ask me. After you spanked me last time, I could barely sit down the next day. And this time. Eek." She laughed.
"You loved it."
She sighed and looked up at me through her lashes, as if admitting a great sin. "I did . . . So what about the scar? You got it when you were fighting?"
I hated telling the story, hated what it said about me. But if she wanted to know, I'd tell, because I felt something kindred in her. Like maybe she had some demons, too.
"Washington had a girlfriend. Fawn-"
"Fawn?" She snorted.
I tickled her ribs, and she kicked at me. "We're from the country around New Orleans, okay? There is a dearth of well-named women in that area of the world. Not everyone can be an Evangeline."
She settled back down. "Okay, continue. Sorry for the unwarranted interruption from counsel."
"Wash and Fawn were freshmen at LSU when I was a senior. I had finally sobered up a bit, doused the rage that made me do stupid shit all the time, actually worked to get my grades back in good standing. Control. I'd finally learned what the word meant. I thought I was done with that feeling of not giving a shit and just doing whatever the hell I felt like. But I wasn't. It was still in there. Not the rage as much, just the lack of control."
"So you fucked her?" Evan seemed to know the plot of the story, if not the moral.
I clenched my eyes shut, seeing Fawn's young, carefree face in my mind.
"Worse. I seduced her. Stole her away from Wash. Made her think I loved her. All that bullshit. She hero-worshipped me because I was older, cooler, was accepted into law school. I lied to her. Schemed. I don't know why I did it. I was a douche." I shrugged. "Wash caught us together at Mom and Pop's house. He beat the shit out of me. I didn't know he had it in him. But he did."
"Washington was big enough to beat your ass?" She was in awe.
"We're about the same size, but he was running on pure fury. Makes you strong. I would know." I reached up and ran my fingertip along the scar. "I remember Mom screaming as he dragged me into the yard by my hair. I was butt naked. He punched me until I couldn't see anymore. I didn't fight back. Just let him work it out. I guess I felt like I deserved it. This scar was from where he kicked me with his steel-toe boot. Almost split my forehead open. Knocked me out."
"Jesus, Lincoln." She was awake now, the sleep banished further from her mind with each of my words. I was ashamed, even though the fight had been years and years ago. I didn't blame Wash for what he did or for the scar. I had it coming.
"He's never forgiven me for it. We barely talk. Kennedy tries to maintain a truce between us." I bounced my head against the pillow, letting the thoughts slosh around in my mind. "I've apologized every way I know how."
"Does he still love her?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. Or maybe he just likes to hold grudges."
"Sounds to me like he needs to get over the butt-hurt. Blood is thicker than water, and you apologized."
"You're taking my side after what I did?" I didn't like talking about my rough past because it always changed how the person I'd told saw me. It was as if I'd alerted them to a snake coiled in the corner of the room, ready to strike. Fear of me would enter their hearts and never seem to leave. But Evan was different. There was no fear. Only acceptance and even defense.
"Yeah. You aren't who you used to be. You're a fucking goodie-two-shoes going after big bad criminals."