Jax crossed the room in a flash, aching to be close to her. He sat on the bed, took her hand, stared at her bruised cheeks. Carefully, slowly, he reached out to touch her face. She let him, and he felt nothing but gratitude that she wasn’t afraid of him.
“Does this hurt?”
“Not much.” Her eyelids fluttered shut at his touch. “Mom says it was pretty bad at first.”
“It was.”
“Jax?”
“Yeah, doll?”
Her eyes flew open again. “I remember that you call me ‘doll’.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
He heaved a sigh of relief. “Well, that’s something, huh?”
“I remember something else… can I ask you about it?”
“Shoot.”
“Why did we break up?”
It suddenly came to him that he had an incredible amount of power in his hands – he actually had the power to rewrite history. He could say anything, tell her anythi
