his mouth. It didn't matter that he knew it wasn't really him she was so terrified of. Every time she cringed from him, it stabbed right through to his gut.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her knuckles white with the force of her grip on the blankets.
"Don't apologize."
Silence stretched between them. Dan stared at the night table, telling himself over and over again that she'd been through a lot. Her reaction to him wasn't personal. He was aware of Kelly stealing glances at him.
"Did I do that?" she asked finally.
"What?" Seeing the direction of her gaze, Dan lifted a hand to touch the scratches on his cheek. "These? Don't worry about it"
"I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it," he said again.
"It wasn't you," she said after a moment, her voice so low he had to strain to hear.
"I'd never hurt you. I know our—" he stopped, searching for the right word "—our relationship hasn't exactly been one to build trust. You hardly know me. But I'd never hit you. I can promise you that."
"I believe you."
She might believe him, but he knew it was going to take more than that to make her trust him—and he wanted her trust. It surprised him to realize just how much he wanted it.
"Who did this to you?" Kelly jumped at the question, her face paling beneath the bruises.
"It's not important," she muttered.
"It is important. No one has a right to do this to someone else." Dan saw her wince at the edge of anger clearly audible in his voice. He stopped, drawing in a slow breath before continuing in a neutral tone. "Was it your father?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"I have to at least know who did this, Kelly."
"Why?"
"Why?" The question threw him off balance. How could he explain why? It seemed so obvious that he had to know something so important. "Because I need to know."
"I don't see why," she insisted, her jaw set in a stubborn line.
"Kelly, he's done this before. I saw the old bruises. You can't let him get away with this. No matter who he is."
"I don't want to think about it. I don't want to talk about it."
Dan stared at her, frustrated in the face of her stubborn refusal. He'd spent most of the morning relishing the idea of bringing the man to justice. Visions of putting him behind bars had accompanied numerous cups of coffee. He'd thought Kelly must surely feel the same. Now here she was refusing to even tell him who it had been.
"Was it your father?" he asked finally. She said nothing, staring at the blankets, her jaw set Dan reined in his exasperation, reminding himself that she'd probably had enough of people bullying her. The important thing was that she was safe and relatively unhurt The fact that he wanted to get his hands on the man who'd beaten her was not really all that important
"Okay." The bed shifted as he stood, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "I won't ask any more questions. If and when you feel like talking about it, we'll talk."
She cast him a wary look from under her lashes, as if wondering if he was really going to drop the subject He met her gaze openly, doing his best to look reasonable and non-threatening. It wasn't a look he'd ever really tried for before, but he must have managed at least a reasonable facsimile because some of the wariness faded from her eyes.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome," he said, very solemnly.
It was worth controlling his desire for vengeance to see something approaching a smile flicker across Kelly's face. It occurred to him that he hadn't seen her smile much. Even on the night they'd met, she hadn't smiled a whole lot Or was it just that he'd been so wrapped in his own problems that he hadn't noticed?
"I guess you'd like a chance to clean up," he suggested.
"That would be nice," she said, that shy near-smile flickering over her face again.
"The bathroom is next door." He hesitated, frowning. "Can you manage? I could help you."
"No. Thanks," she added, trying to soften the abrupt refusal. "I'm fine, really. Or close enough," she amended when he
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her knuckles white with the force of her grip on the blankets.
"Don't apologize."
Silence stretched between them. Dan stared at the night table, telling himself over and over again that she'd been through a lot. Her reaction to him wasn't personal. He was aware of Kelly stealing glances at him.
"Did I do that?" she asked finally.
"What?" Seeing the direction of her gaze, Dan lifted a hand to touch the scratches on his cheek. "These? Don't worry about it"
"I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it," he said again.
"It wasn't you," she said after a moment, her voice so low he had to strain to hear.
"I'd never hurt you. I know our—" he stopped, searching for the right word "—our relationship hasn't exactly been one to build trust. You hardly know me. But I'd never hit you. I can promise you that."
"I believe you."
She might believe him, but he knew it was going to take more than that to make her trust him—and he wanted her trust. It surprised him to realize just how much he wanted it.
"Who did this to you?" Kelly jumped at the question, her face paling beneath the bruises.
"It's not important," she muttered.
"It is important. No one has a right to do this to someone else." Dan saw her wince at the edge of anger clearly audible in his voice. He stopped, drawing in a slow breath before continuing in a neutral tone. "Was it your father?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"I have to at least know who did this, Kelly."
"Why?"
"Why?" The question threw him off balance. How could he explain why? It seemed so obvious that he had to know something so important. "Because I need to know."
"I don't see why," she insisted, her jaw set in a stubborn line.
"Kelly, he's done this before. I saw the old bruises. You can't let him get away with this. No matter who he is."
"I don't want to think about it. I don't want to talk about it."
Dan stared at her, frustrated in the face of her stubborn refusal. He'd spent most of the morning relishing the idea of bringing the man to justice. Visions of putting him behind bars had accompanied numerous cups of coffee. He'd thought Kelly must surely feel the same. Now here she was refusing to even tell him who it had been.
"Was it your father?" he asked finally. She said nothing, staring at the blankets, her jaw set Dan reined in his exasperation, reminding himself that she'd probably had enough of people bullying her. The important thing was that she was safe and relatively unhurt The fact that he wanted to get his hands on the man who'd beaten her was not really all that important
"Okay." The bed shifted as he stood, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "I won't ask any more questions. If and when you feel like talking about it, we'll talk."
She cast him a wary look from under her lashes, as if wondering if he was really going to drop the subject He met her gaze openly, doing his best to look reasonable and non-threatening. It wasn't a look he'd ever really tried for before, but he must have managed at least a reasonable facsimile because some of the wariness faded from her eyes.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome," he said, very solemnly.
It was worth controlling his desire for vengeance to see something approaching a smile flicker across Kelly's face. It occurred to him that he hadn't seen her smile much. Even on the night they'd met, she hadn't smiled a whole lot Or was it just that he'd been so wrapped in his own problems that he hadn't noticed?
"I guess you'd like a chance to clean up," he suggested.
"That would be nice," she said, that shy near-smile flickering over her face again.
"The bathroom is next door." He hesitated, frowning. "Can you manage? I could help you."
"No. Thanks," she added, trying to soften the abrupt refusal. "I'm fine, really. Or close enough," she amended when he
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