22. 22
22
PARKER
W alking into Theo’s house always brings a sense of chaos with it. His daughter, Aubrey, is with Dean today, but her toys are thrown around as usual. It’s a beautiful home that had been decorated by Theo’s ex wife, Jill, before she up and left him and their daughter. Theo had been crushed, but he stepped up to the plate and is the best dad to Aubrey. He loves her fiercely and has been very protective of her ever since Jill walked out. Seeing Theo become a father was truly something special, and I envy the bond that he and Aubrey have. I know I want to be a dad someday, and seeing my best friend go through fatherhood has only solidified that.
I glance over at the woman currently holding my hand in a death grip and smile.
“You nervous, sweetheart?”
She locks eyes with me and swallows. “Yes.”
I love how honest Lyla is with me and I know that she’s still working through how to navigate that. She’s someone who’s used to keeping her distance, not allowing herself to show weakness and be vulnerable with others. I had heard a little about her friends back home, and honestly don’t blame her for feeling that she couldn’t share herself with them. But she can be open with me, and my chest swells with pride at that knowledge.
We carefully walk down the basement stairs and she starts visibly tensing as we descend. I stroke my thumb over the back of her hand and give a slight squeeze, something I had made a habit of to ground and reassure her. She takes in the space around us, seeing all of Theo’s equipment out and ready to go, and grinds her teeth.
“I’ll go first if you want.”
She nods and reluctantly lets go of my hand. She takes the sketchbook she has clutched to her chest and hands it over to Theo.
“Here are a few sketches I have of what we created.” She looks back and gives me a small smile. “Hopefully there’s one you can work with.”
Theo flips open the book and looks through the pages, eyes scanning the pages carefully. I know he has the same artistic streak as Lyla, and that has been a big part of his therapy coming back from overseas.
“These are stunning, Lyla,” Theo says as he squeezes her shoulder. “I can definitely work from this.”
I plop down into the chair and lift my shirt over my head, leaving me bare from the waist up. Lyla’s eyes run down my body appreciatively and her gaze fills with a hunger that has me shifting in my seat. My dick twitches, thinking of her looking at me like that while she’s underneath me, and I quickly shake off the thought. I don’t need an erection right now with my best friend here.
“Alright.” Theo’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Where are we going to tattoo this?”
“On the same side as the other one, but on my forearm.”
Theo nods and turns over my arm, positioning it in a way that gives him easy access to my forearm. He methodically preps the area, and without saying a word, he touches the needle to my skin and the familiar sting begins. Lyla watches in fascination as Theo works, asking questions along the way. My best friend patiently answers her inquiries with a smile on his face and I can’t help the lump that forms in my throat. Seeing Lyla interact with the people that I love never fails to fill me with happiness and I’m not sure this will ever go away. Annie had barely tried to insert herself into my life, whereas Lyla free fell into it and immersed herself without a second thought.
“So, do you not use a stencil on the skin to trace what you’re tattooing?” Lyla’s next question pulls me out of my stupor.
“No,” Theo says. “I find it easier to work from the heart. I tried stencils for a while, but it was hard for me to stick to them.”
Theo stops tattooing long enough to pull up his sleeve and reveal the scar running up his right forearm and into his right hand. I had seen it more times than I could count, but it still makes me uncomfortable, thinking of how he got it.
“My right hand is dominant, and I have some muscle damage from an injury. Stencils are hard because I can’t keep to the lines. Whereas when I free-hand the tattoos, I can adjust the design when my muscle has a mind of its own.” He lets out a humorless laugh. “I promise I’m not going to mess yours up, I’m good at what I do.”
Lyla nods with understanding and I see her hand drift over her own scars, in the same spot as Theo’s. Sometimes she gets this dazed look, as if she’s lost within a memory and seeing something other than her surroundings. Before I can comprehend what’s happening, Theo reaches out his hand and clasps the one of hers that’s running over her burns.
“Hey,” he speaks softly, “You got through it, you hear me?”
Lyla’s eyes drift to find my best friend’s hazel gaze locked on her, and she reluctantly nods and gives a sad smile. After a shared look, they drop hands and Theo turns his attention back to me. An hour goes by when Theo turns to Lyla again.
“Would you do the script for me? I want it to be June’s writing, which requires a stencil.”
Lyla’s eyes bug out of her head. “Are you sure?” she asks Theo before tentatively turning to me. “What if I mess it up? ”
I place a kiss onto her cheek. “You’ve got this, sweetheart.”
Resolve flashes through her eyes and she gives a curt nod to Theo.
Once the stencil is on, Lyla gets to work, her brows furrowing in concentration. She hums at her work every few strokes, making sure every curve, every dip, is correct. The sting of the needle barely registers as I take her in. She seems so immersed in what she’s doing that she doesn’t even notice me shamelessly staring at her, but Theo’s gaze meets mine and he offers a small smile. He knows how much Lyla means to me and I know he’s happy that I found her, but I also know how much he yearns for this type of connection himself. Guilt rolls through me momentarily as I see the sadness creep into his eyes.
Lyla clears her throat, breaking me out of my thoughts. Biting her lip, she lifts the tattoo needle from my skin and a triumphant smile takes over her features.
“Finished,” she announces delightedly.
“Alright, it’s all done then.” Theo claps a hand onto her shoulder before directing his attention to me. “You can take a look while I set up for Lyla’s.”
I cautiously rise from the chair and go to the mirror that he keeps in the corner. I look at the new art on my arm and tears begin to form in my eyes. It’s almost perfectly matched to what Lyla had drawn and knowing that my mom is now permanently etched onto my skin makes me feel a new sense of peace. No matter where I go, I’ll carry a piece of her with me.
Small arms wrap around my waist from behind and I melt into her touch. Lyla clings to me with so much love that it nearly knocks the breath from my lungs and I feel an immense amount of comfort within her embrace.
“Alright, Lyla. I’m ready for you.”
Her arms tense around me and I let out a laugh.
“It’s okay,” I say, prying her hands off of me as I turn around to face her. “I’ve got you.”
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, letting the tension dissipate from her body before saying, “Okay, I’m ready.”
She slowly walks towards the chair I’d just vacated and gingerly sits down. She takes a few more deep breaths before she looks at Theo and puts her right forearm out for him. He glances down and I see the same anger I felt the first time I saw them written all over his face. He lifts his hand and pauses with a silent question in his eyes. When she nods, he lets his fingers trace over the scars before bringing his attention back to her face, which is currently scrunched in a cringe.
“My dad…” she starts and pauses before finally taking another deep breath. “He didn’t care for me, to say the least.”
Theo’s jaw ticks and I can tell he’s trying to keep his composure for her sake.
“How old were you?”
Lyla’s gaze shoots down to her scars, considering her next words. I know she feels comfortable sharing with me, but she doesn’t know Theo that well at this point and I’m not sure if she’ll open up.
“I was six,” she whispers. “The first time, anyway.”
My stomach rolls as I think about a sweet six-year-old Lyla, being held down and forced to endure a cigarette burning into her skin repeatedly. I imagine how her screams would have sounded and I genuinely think I might throw up. Theo breaks the silence first.
“I’m sorry, Lyla. No child should have to go through that,” he sighs. “We’re going to cover them, yeah?”
She gives him a grateful nod and shows him the sketches of lilies she’s done, explaining how she wants them placed before he begins. I sit on her left side, Theo on her right, and grip her hand before bringing my mouth down and giving it a gentle kiss. Buzzing sounds and he brings the needle down to the skin of her scarred forearm. She lets out a breath she had been holding and relaxes as he runs the needle over her arm. She flinches as I watch the emotions running over her face and give her hand a squeeze, letting her know I’m here with her .
A single tear runs down her cheek as she lets out another shaky breath and I can see the healing happening before my eyes. I know she’s thinking of getting those scars and how they had burned relentlessly. I can tell when she starts thinking about her father screaming at her, as she visibly cringes and her face crumples. I can see her eyes flash as if she’s thinking about the weeks of healing and being unable to draw. I can hear the wheels in her brain turning as she mulls over her entire childhood, facing the reality of what she’s gone through. Half an hour passes and Theo and I have remained silent, allowing her the time to work through the emotions that are boiling over.
Gradually, her shoulders relax and her grip loosens, telling me that she’s beginning to get used to the sensation, as well as healing emotional scars that she’s been carrying around her whole life. She keeps her eyes locked on her forearm the whole time, getting lost in the past, and I allow her the space to feel it all.
After an hour, Theo smiles down at his work and says, “Okay, it’s all done.”
Lyla’s features soften as she takes in the art that covers most of her scars now.
“It’s—I.” She slaps a hand over her mouth to cover her sob and before I can embrace her, Theo beats me to it.
“Hey,” he says into her hair before pulling back and looking deep into her eyes. “Never again.” He begins wiping tears from her face. “Never again will he hold power over you. You hear me? You do not let that bastard break you.”
She sniffles and a look of pure conviction takes over her face as she whispers, “Never again.”
“Atta girl.” My best friend praises her.
Most men might feel jealous at this interaction, and if it wasn’t Theo holding her face in his hands, I probably would be. But seeing my best friend comfort her only makes my chest fill with adoration for them, and I know that they’ve both suffered greatly in their lives.
Theo pulls out his phone, unlocks it, and hands it to Lyla.
“Give me your number. I’m going to text you some information for a therapist I saw in Jasper. She does EMDR, which is a therapy based around helping PTSD and flashbacks. It stands for Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing. She’s amazing, and I promise it will help.”
Just as she opens her mouth to protest, Theo gives her his best ‘dad’ look that I often see used on his daughter.
“Trust me,” he says.
Lyla closes her mouth and lets out a resigned sigh before she mutters, “Okay.”
Lyla and I are deep into inventory, which is one of my least favorite parts of the job. It’s just counting and making sure the numbers in our system match the stock that we have and it’s mind-numbingly boring. We’re currently holed up in the storage closet while my dad deals with customers and the tension is thick.
Lyla and I have been making out every chance we get, but we haven’t gone past that. I’m biding my time, waiting for her to make a move, as I don’t want to move too fast and scare her off. My dick swells as she bends down to count more books, her plump ass filling out her jeans perfectly. She must feel my stare because she turns her head and gives me a wide grin.
“Like what you see?”
I clear my throat. “Sorry,” I chuckle, “I didn’t mean to stare.”
Lyla slowly stands and a blush creeps over her cheeks.
“It’s okay, I think I might like it when you stare.”
Fuck me.
We keep working and the silence only makes the friction intensify and I have to keep readjusting my pants several times. Each time, Lyla catches me out of the corner of her eye and gives a sultry smile before turning back to our task. The air feels electric and charged, and whenever we brush against one another, it’s like lightning shoots down my spine. My breathing is becoming labored with the effort of my restraint and I curse myself for being such a horny idiot. I’m no better than a teenager panting after his crush.
Being in this kind of forced proximity is testing my willpower, and when Lyla bends over yet again and brushes her ass against my cock, I groan.
“Keep that up and I won’t be able to stop what happens next.”
“Hm,” she hums thoughtfully, “I don’t know if you could keep up with me, old man.”
To hell with it.
I slowly stalk her, prey versus predator, and see her pupils dilate as she retreats. She lets out a squeak when her back hits the wall and I cage her within my arms, my hands on each side of her head. She pulls at her bottom lip with her teeth and that action alone does something to me. I reach for her mouth, running my thumb along the lip in question and she releases a shuddering breath.
“Keep calling me an old man, and I will shove my cock so far down your throat that you’re gagging on those words. I’m thirty-five, not eighty. I can still fuck like the best of them, sweetheart. In fact, I would ruin you, and I would enjoy every single moment of your damnation.”
Lyla sharply inhales, stunned by my brazen words. She looks away from my eyes, slowly moving down my face, and down to my lips. Her gaze hovers there for a moment before she launches herself at me. I catch her with ease and groan into her mouth. I’ll never tire of the way she tastes on my tongue and it feels like my first kiss every time our lips make contact.
Suddenly, Lyla’s phone begins to ring in her pocket. She breaks away from the kiss and her brows furrow in confusion as she reaches into her jeans and pulls out her cell phone.
“I don’t recognize the number.” She chews on the inside of her cheek before swiping to answer. “Hello?”
I can’t hear what’s being said on the other side of the line, but her face twists in agony and she covers her hand with her mouth. I reach out for her hand and place it on my chest and her eyes meet mine, filling with appreciation.
She takes a steadying breath and says, “Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
She ends the call and lets out a sob, finally allowing a moment of vulnerability without the attention of whoever called.
“It’s my mom,” she whispers. “She’s being rushed to the hospital for emergency surgery. FUCK! I don’t have my Jeep right now, it’s in the shop finally getting fixed.”
She runs her hands over her face and through her hair in frustration before sobs rack her body with more force this time.
“Hey,” I say softly, running soothing hands up and down her back. “I’ll drive you. You shouldn’t be behind the wheel like this anyway.”
“Wait.” She clings to me as I begin to exit the storage room. “What about the store?”
I pull her out of the room with me and stomp to the front register, on a mission now.
“Dad, can you watch the store for a couple of days? Lyla’s mother is in the hospital and she doesn’t have a vehicle right now so I’m going to drive her.”
My dad looks at me before looking to Lyla. I see the sadness displayed across his features, knowing that her mom is the only family she has left and knowing some of what she had suffered as a child.
“Of course, you two go. Peyton, Cassie and I can manage things here.”
He makes his way around the register and grabs Lyla into a crushing bear hug.
“You call me if you need anything, okay?”
Her lip wobbles as she pulls away and stares into my father’s eyes giving him a nod of confirmation.
“Come on, pack what you’ll need for a few days and we’ll stop at my place quickly so I can throw some clothes in a bag.”