Scout’s POV
"You are pushing your luck, Scout."
Nixon did not move. He stood under the freezing blast of the shower head. The skin across his ribs went tight. Every muscle in his stomach bunched into hard ridges under my palms. I kept my hand flat against his chest. I felt his pulse. It was a fast, heavy thud against my fingertips.
"I am just washing the soap away."
My voice shook. The lie tasted like copper in my mouth. I did not move my hand. The water sprayed over my knuckles and ran down the dark hair on his chest. He looked down at me. His eyes were completely black in the dim light of the bathroom. The muscle in his left cheek bunched up. His jaw looked like it might snap from how hard his teeth were locked together.
"Remove your hand."
He did not yell. He whispered it. The sou
