The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 150

Petty heard footsteps behind her. The man by the window slowly turned around. Under the low brim of his cap, only a pair of deep brown eyes showed.

He nodded at her, just a little.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Petty walked over, trying to sound casual. "Isn’t it hot in here with your hat and gloves on?"

After a few training sessions, she’d realized Malcom seemed cold, but he was actually pretty easy to be around. That made it easier for her to joke with him.

Malcom glanced down at his gloved hands, the black fabric leaving his fingertips bare. He pulled out his phone and typed a short message. It popped up on the screen: It’s fine.

Even those two words felt chilly coming from him.

Petty just laughed. "Alright then."

She set her water bottle down and started stretching, warming up her muscles. Malcom stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching her bounce and twist with a blank, almost bored look.

Meanwhile, Petty’s mind was spinning. That sense of familiarity from before kept nagging at her.

As she rolled her wrists, she sneaked a look at Malcom’s build.

"Okay, I’m ready. Let’s get started."

Petty bounced on her toes a couple of times, then moved to face him, launching her first attack.

She picked up new moves quickly. Even though she still needed more strength, her techniques had lost that awkward, useless flair.

But against Malcom, she still wasn’t much of a challenge. He dodged her attacks without breaking a sweat.

Petty swung and missed, her momentum sending her off balance.

She almost hit the ground, but Malcom caught her with a quick, smooth motion.

Petty twisted, grabbing his wrist instead. Suddenly, she heard his breathing change, sharper and tighter.

The clasp popped open, and she yanked off the glove.

His hand was long-fingered, but covered in jagged, raised scars from wrist to tip.

Definitely not Jay’s hand.

Petty felt her face go hot, then cold. She stood there, completely awkward, forcing a laugh. "Haha, sorry, guess my hand slipped."

Malcom didn’t say a word. He just held out his hand, taking the glove back.

Petty’s fingers felt numb, but she tried to keep her cool.

Now it made sense why Malcom always wore gloves. His hands were covered in scars.

She winced, realizing what she’d done. All she’d managed was to rip open old wounds.