Oaklyn.

Chapter 18.

TW: Mentions of abuse.

I watched her as she took a sip of her strawberry milkshake happily, god she loved those things. Her feet, covered by white ankle socks, were thrown casually on my lap, as were her long legs, covered by her denim cutoffs. She leaned against the passenger door as occasionally twiddled with the radio buttons of my jeep, a satisfied grin on her face when she found a song she liked.

"Y'know, you never actually talk to me about anything," She said randomly. My body recoiled away from her, unable to hide the hurt in my face.

"Where the fuck did that come from?" I questioned, acting offended to cover up my confusion and pang of pain that just shot through my heart.

"It came out slightly wrong, I mean you don't talk about your family. Or your personal life, or childhood. Like, ever," She shrugged, explaining herself as she placed her milkshake cup down, her blue eyes on me.

"So? That doesn't mean I don't tell you shit in general," I frowned unhappily, what the fuck?

"Alright, I'm sorry. It was kinda random, even for me," She shot me a small smile, clearly wanting to push further.
I gave her a look that clearly said "start talking before I change my mind" and she perked up.
"Well, you're dad's the leader of the Italian mafia Caiden, and in case you forgot, my dad ain't a big fan of your family. I wanna know more about you, understand you better, that's all," She explained softly, batting her long eyelashes at me cutely.

"I didn't forget," I shrugged, watching her face carefully.

Her curious expression faded into something sad, pitiful.
"Caiden.." she sighed, bringing the mood down.

Fucking hell, what is she going to say?

I watched her silently, my brain going through every possible scenario. This wasn't good, our day was going so fucking well. We decided to go to the beach, take a walk, get milkshakes and watch the sunset in my car.
Now it's fucking depressing as she stares at me like I'm some kid in a shopping center who just lost their fucking mom in fucking Primark.

"I saw them. I saw them a while ago but I didn't wanna push you, y'know? It was none of my business and it still isn't, and I get it if you don't want to talk about it, but I had to say something, I can't keep pretending I don't see them," She blurted out all at once, forcing me to raise a brow at her, what the fuck did she even see?

"Oaklyn," I lowered my voice, my hand rubbing her exposed skin on her shin.
"I have no idea what you're even talking about right now, just tell me what it is," I muttered, searching her face for some kind of answer.

To be honest, I had no fucking clue where this came from, or what she was even talking about.

"The tattoos Caiden," She answered quietly, looking almost scared for my reaction.

"My tattoos? Well, they're not very secretive," I shrugged, staring at her blankly.

Then, it hit me like a ton of bricks.

"Oh."

"What happened?" She questioned softly, her fingers intertwining with mine.

To be blunt, I'd totally forgotten about the scars I got hidden by my tattoos, the only one that consciously played on my mind was the one on my eye.

I blew out a sigh, shaking my head briefly.
"Listen, Oaklyn. My past isn't a pretty thing, it's all kind of fucked up and you don't need to know about that part of me, alright? It's not I don't trust you, because I do, its just-" I paused mid-sentence when her lips connected with mine softly. My hand instantly went to her face, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear, my other hand going to her waist, rubbing the skin that was exposed by her slightly ridden up shirt.