Page 96 of Butterfly

“She was.” My voice is rising. “You think you know me? Think again.”

“Dammit, Sienna. This isn’t what I expected—” He drags a nervous hand through his hair. “That back…and you killed someone?” Anger drips from his words so thickly that it presses against my chest. “You aren’t who I thought you were.”

“Obviously.”

“I don’t want to be involved with this.”

No, he doesn’t because he’d risk his own career.

With the outrage of someone who has been deeply wronged, he storms out of the room. Good riddance. It’s the first time I’ve used my past to scare someone, and the fact that I succeeded leaves a bittersweet taste in my mouth. Shivering, I sit on the sofa. Honestly, I didn’t expect that telling him everything would work, but here I am. He ran out of the room. Blimey. I’m shocked. My bum barely touches the cushion before Tyler barges inside.

“What the hell happened?” The hard slant of his mouth brings a grin to my lips. “Who was that idiot? I heard voices.”

In for a penny, in for a pound. “Tyler, there’s something about me I need to tell you.”

“About bloody time.” He kicks the door shut and looms over me with his arms folded over his chest. Hardly the reassuring, compassionate confidante. But that’s him.

I grab the hem of my scrubs and go to pull them up, but he roars.

“What are you doing?” Shock flashes red on his face.

“Calm down. It’s not what you think, you daft dimbo.” I turn around and show him my cursed back. I have to say it gets easier and easier the more I do it.

A hiss whistles out of him. The back of my mouth burns with anxiety though, but I can keep it under control. I’m about to lower my T-shirt, but he stops me. His rough fingers trace the scars, tearing a gasp out of me.

“Sharp blade, three inches, right-handed bastard, deep wounds. Who took care of the cuts had no idea what they were doing. They shouldn’t be allowed to be in the medical care business. Butchery, that’s their path. Hell, look at those swells.” He yanks my scrubs down, covering me. “The bastard who did it?” Taking my shoulders, he turns me around, his thick eyebrows knitting together, as if he’s ready to start a war to kill said bastard.

I worry at my bottom lip. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. It was my foster father, and I killed him.” Short and to the point.

He swats my shoulder hard enough to make me stagger on my feet. “That’s my girl. Now where are the results of that yapping terrier’s blood test?”

The change in the subject is so abrupt, my head spins. “What?”

“The blood test we did this morning? Can’t find the results.” He frowns as if I spoke another language.

“But Tyler, is that all? I told you I killed someone. It was self-defence but—”

“I killed, too.” He shrugs. “Sienna, I’m not good at the talking shit.”

“I can’t believe it.” I ball a fist on my hips. “For years, you bothered me because you wanted me to talk to you, and now you want some test results?”

“Fair is fair. Do you need me to listen to you?” He scrapes the chair towards him and drops onto it. “Tell me.”

“I…” I fiddle with my scrubs, not sure about what to say.

“Are you having dark thoughts?” He props his chin on his fist.

“No. I just wanted you to know.”

A dog barking in one of the examination rooms emphasises the silence between us.

“You are okay, right?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Good.” He slaps his thighs, standing up. “Now find me those bloody results.”

I laugh because only Tyler could be like that. My laugh dies quickly. “There’s another thing you need to know.”

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