right now. Seeing how close she was to a breakdown and knowing he was the one who had driven her there was even more painful than he’d imagined it would be.
“You want me to beat you?” she asked.
“I’m too big to fit in the kennel,” Jackson said practically. “A beating would be a reasonable substitute, but if you’d rather punish me some other way, that’s up to you. Whatever you decide, you have my full cooperation.”
“Why?” she said. “Look at me, Jackson.”
He kept his chin tucked close to his chest. “You know why.”
“Jackson, look at me,” she repeated. “Let me see your face.”
Slowly, he tilted his head, meeting her gaze in the dim light. The moon was hiding behind the thick clouds that had moved in not long after sunset, but there was enough illumination to see the way her eyes glittered with a mixture of rage and suspicion. It was clear that she would never trust him again, not even the small amount that she had before.
The knowledge made his chest feel heavy and his voice flat when he said, “Because I deserve it.”
“What did you do to deserve it,” she pressed, refusing to let him off easy. “Tell me what you did wrong.”
“Once I knew who you were, the ugliness should have stopped,” he said. “I never should have fucked you on the beach or dragged you back here against your will. And I sure as hell shouldn’t have put you in the kennel.”
“Then why did you?” she asked, shaking her head as if he were a puzzle she would never be able to make sense of.
But there was no puzzle. He was a simple creature, a simple monster, and after all he’d put her through she deserved to know his creation story.
“Because I’m a twisted son of a bitch. Like you said. And I’m never going to be anything else.” He took a deep breath. “It started six years ago when your sister filed a report with the military police accusing me of rape.”
He let the rest of the story spill out, every detail of that summer that had started out golden and ended in a nightmare he couldn’t wake from, no matter how many times he’d insisted that he had never touched Harley in anger.
“I don’t know how she did it,” he continued. “In the video of her interview with the police she was covered in bruises, but the last time I saw her she was fine. There wasn’t a mark on her. I saw every inch of her.” He swallowed hard. “We slept together and I told her that I loved her for the first time. She said she loved me, too, and…I believed it. I believed her.”
His lip curled, disgust for the fool he’d been making his skin crawl. “Later, I found out that she’d been killed later that same night, on her way to elope with my best friend, days after framing me for a crime I didn’t commit. I was sentenced to eighteen months in a military prison and dishonorably discharged from the Marines. My family hasn’t spoken to me since I was taken in for questioning.”
Hannah’s breath rushed out. “Jesus.” She sat down across from him, her arms still folded at her chest. “I thought it was something like that, but I never… I had no idea that you’d gone to prison. Or that the man who was in the car with her was your friend.”
“Don’t pity me,” he said in a brittle voice. “That’s not why I told you the truth. I told you so you’ll understand that I have nothing to offer you except the chance to even the score. Now go get the crop.”
“I don’t want to get the crop,” she said, sounding exasperated. “You know, there’s such a thing as an apology, Jackson. Where you say you’re sorry for something you’ve done and the other person says you’re forgiven.”
“I don’t deserve to be forgiven.”
Her gaze softened. “Then I guess this time it’s lucky for you that people don’t always get what they deserve.” She reached out, laying a hand on his arm. “I believe that you’re sorry. And I forgive you.”
He shook his head, fighting to swallow as a wave
Learning to Kill: Stories