Skin Deep by Pamela Clare Page A

of her welcomed his touch. She needed to tell him the truth. He deserved to know.
    Oh, but she didn’t want to tell him! She liked this version of herself better, the version she saw reflected in his eyes—a good mother, a woman he respected, a woman without a criminal record, without blood on her hands. The moment she told him the truth, that woman would cease to exist. His attraction to her would vanish. He would draw his hand away, quit touching her. And although she didn’t know him well, he was a good man. She cared what he thought of her. To lose his respect…
    “What is it?” There was concern in his voice, his fingers tightening reassuringly around hers. “What’s wrong?”
    It was on the tip of her tongue to make some excuse, but the words wouldn’t come. If she let this go any further, he would feel misled.
    This is the price you pay. It’s the price you’ll always pay.
    There really was no such thing as starting over.
    She drew her hand away, her mouth suddenly dry. “Nate, I … I’m not the woman you think I am.”
    Oh, God! How was she going to do this?
    She willed herself to meet his gaze. “When I was younger, I did things I shouldn’t have done. I’ve served time in prison for using drugs, and I … I killed a man.”
    Nate reached out, stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I know, Megan. I know.”
    Megan stared at him, his words and his actions making no sense to her. “What…?”
    “I know you spent time in juvenile detention for shoplifting, and I know what happened to you there. I know about the man you shot and killed, and I know why you did it. I know your brother took the fall and spent six years of a life sentence in prison, while you struggled with heroin addiction on the streets. I know you were sent to prison on drug charges when you were two months pregnant with Emily, and I know what happened that set matters straight—why you disappeared with Emily, how your brother escaped and came after you, how the courts finally gave you both your freedom.
    “I know it all, Megan, and I think no less of you for it.”
    Megan saw Nate’s mouth moving, but couldn’t hear him, her heart pounding so hard that it drowned out everything else. “Reverend Marshall told you.”
    “No, Megan. I read about it in the articles that ran in the Denver Independent. There was that series—”
    She found herself on her feet, her face burning with rage and humiliation. “You googled me! You pried—”
    “No, I didn’t.” He stood, took a step toward her.
    “Oh, God!” She turned her back on him, stared down unseeing at the fire. “You went behind my back and—”
    “That’s not what happened.” Nate was standing behind her now, his big hands coming to rest on her shoulders. “My dad is a news geek. He kept a folder from when your brother escaped from prison. He clipped all the articles—the ones about Marc, the ones about you. He recognized Marc’s name and showed me the folder a few hours before you called yesterday.”
    “Jack knows, too?” Something inside her seemed to wither at this news, and she pulled away from Nate, tears pricking her eyes, her stomach in knots.
    “He wrote letters to the governor asking him to grant you a pardon.”
    These last words broke through the adrenaline haze in Megan’s mind. She turned to face Nate. “He … he did?”
    “Yeah.” Nate wiped a tear off her cheek with his thumb. “Megan, we’ve both known the whole story since before you came up here.”
    “You didn’t say anything.” They hadn’t treated her strangely, either, showing her only courtesy and kindness, as if her past didn’t matter to them, as if they didn’t hold it against her.
    “Why should I? Asking you about it would only dredge up painful memories. You don’t owe me any explanations. Who you were then is not who you are now, and I’m interested in the woman you are today.”
    Stunned by Nate’s response, Megan could do nothing but stare up at him.
    # # #
    Nate sat,