Chapter 29
Bluebird
? What’s Left of You - Chord Overstreet
Jaxon
It’s pure bliss to finally bury myself inside Callie. I could liken it to the first rays of sunlight after a harsh storm, but even that doesn’t do it justice. She seems as content as I am, but she has to be hurting. I wasn’t exactly gentle toward the end.
I press another kiss to her forehead and carefully pull out. “Are you ok?”
She nods. “A little sore.”
“I’ll be right back.”
I pad into the bathroom and discard the condom.
There’s a small amount of blood on it, but that’s to be expected.
When I catch a glimpse of my back in the mirror, I smile at the scratches and dents left behind by her fingernails.
I’d tattoo them there if she’d let me, wear them like a permanent brand.
I wet a warm washcloth and return to the bedroom, taking a seat near her legs. “Roll onto your back for me.”
Callie slowly turns, and I ignore the impulse to devour her all over again.
I spread her thighs, taking in the light red streaks of blood, and run the warm cloth between her legs, cleaning her up and, hopefully, soothing some of the ache.
When the cloth gets cold, I toss it into the laundry basket and settle against the headboard.
She rolls into me, resting her head against my chest.
She’s quiet. Too quiet.
“What’s on your mind?”
“Please don’t tell anyone what I told you.” The delicate quaver in her voice cuts through me like a blade. “I don’t think I could bear it if your family knew.”
“All of this stays between us, I promise, but my family loves you. They would take your secret to their grave if you asked them to.”
“I don't want them to look at me any differently.”
“Am I looking at you differently?”
“No,” she whispers.
She's wrong. I don’t just see my Callie anymore—I see a survivor. A woman who waited for a savior, and when none came, she did the only thing she could do. She saved herself.
But she doesn’t have to do things alone anymore. I want to be her soft place to land, a place she can breathe without feeling like she might suffocate from the sheer effort it takes to be alive. I want to be everything for her that she is for me without even realizing it.
Callie is the foundation I want to build my life around, but she needs someone to show her that it’s safe to love, even if taking that risk feels a whole lot like drowning.
I swipe my thumbs under her eyes and remove the evidence of her tears. “I want to take you somewhere. Do you trust me?”
She slides her palm along my beard, gazing at me tenderly. “More than I’ve ever trusted anyone.”
My heart spasms. I bring my lips to hers in a whisper of a kiss. Callie’s trust isn’t easily earned, but I’ll do whatever it takes to hold onto it.
I pat her ass and give it a squeeze for good measure. I love every part of this woman, but this ass was made for my hands. “Go get dressed and meet me at the truck in ten minutes.”
She starts down the hallway, freezes, and turns back. “What should I wear?”
“Dress comfy.”
She nods once and disappears into her bedroom.
While Callie’s getting ready, I head out to the truck and exchange a few texts with my buddy, Noah.
He reassures me that my plan is solid, and he’ll be ready for us in an hour.
In the meantime, I contemplate moving all of Callie’s things into my bedroom the next time she’s at work.
I don’t want her sleeping across the hall anymore.
An hour later, we pull up in front of Lunar Ink with a few minutes to spare. I walk around the truck to the passenger side and hold open the door for Callie. “Are you ready?”
Her eyes narrow on me. “For what?”
“You’ll see.”
She reluctantly slides her hand into mine, and I take the opportunity to weave our fingers together. The entire street is dark, save for the bright lights emanating from the tattoo parlor.
Callie’s brow furrows. “You’re getting a new tattoo?”
“No. You are. If you want. I know you’re self-conscious about your scars, but you don’t have to be. I want you to see yourself the way I see you.”
“How is that?” she asks airily.
“Like a work of art.”
Her eyes glisten in the glow of the shop lights. “Jax…”
Fuck. She hates the idea. What the hell was I thinking? “If you want to turn around and go home now, I’ll understand.”
“No. I just… don’t know what to say.” She pops onto her toes and kisses my cheek. “Will you hold my hand?”
“Whatever you need, Callie baby.”
I lead her inside and make a quick introduction. Noah shows us to a seating area with a large black leather couch and two matching armchairs. Callie and I sit side by side as Noah takes the seat across from us with his tablet propped on his lap.
“He knows about your scars. I needed to make sure he could tattoo over them. I hope that’s ok.”
Callie nods and slips her trembling hand beneath mine. “It’s fine.”
I’ll ignore the use of my least favorite word on the planet, just this once, because I know she’s nervous.
“I’m going to ask you some questions so we can get started on the design,” he says. “If you’re uncomfortable at any point, just let me know, and we can stop.”
“Ok,” she replies.
The consultation takes roughly thirty minutes.
Noah asks her where she wants the tattoo, and she shows him the largest pink scar along her abdomen extending below her left breast and across her ribs.
He applies some numbing cream to give it time to activate and Noah excuses himself to work on the design.
Callie relaxes into me, her head resting on my shoulder.
“Why did you choose that scar?”
“It’s the oldest one, and I didn’t do anything to deserve it.
” She tilts her head to the side and watches her fingers trace the lines of my palm.
“I was only ten. It was the night Clio ran away. When he realized what she’d done, he took it out on me.
Before that, he’d never left a mark on my skin.
Afterward, he took great pleasure in it. ”
I bring my lips to her forehead, needing the connection. If he wasn’t already dead, I’d hunt him down and kill the bastard myself. “You didn’t deserve any of it, Bluebird. None of those scars are your fault.”
I glance up at the tattoo designs lining the walls, and an intricate watercolor bird captures my attention. I point to the frame. “Do you know why I call you Bluebird?”
She follows the gesture. “No, but I wondered.”
“Bluebirds sometimes symbolize hope and happiness. Two things I didn’t have before I met you.”
She draws in a quick breath, and her gaze snaps to mine.
I finger a lock of dark hair near her temple. “You chose to live your life on your own terms instead of being stuck in a cage. You have strength I never did. I built myself a cage out of my grief, and now I’m finding my way out again thanks to you.”
“I’m only strong because I had to be. I didn’t have any other choice.”
“There’s always a choice. You could’ve stayed and let them break you down day after day, but you didn’t. You fought like hell to save yourself. For some reason, the universe led you to me. I have to believe there’s a reason.”
“Maybe the universe knew we needed each other.”
“No. You never needed me, but I sure as hell needed you.”
She presses a soft kiss to the underside of my jaw.
Noah chooses that moment to materialize. “Sorry to interrupt. The sketch is ready.”
“Can I have a minute alone to talk to Noah?” Callie asks.
“Of course. I’ll be right here if you need me.”
They disappear into a room off the lobby. I bounce my leg for a while, then the pacing starts. Finally, after what feels like hours, Noah calls me back to the room.
When I enter, Callie’s lying on her back with her tank top tucked under the band of her bra. Her scars are fully exposed, but she doesn’t look nervous in the least. It’s a testament to Noah’s ease with his clients that she’s comfortable enough to let him see them.
She reaches out for me, and I take her hand in mine without hesitation.
“What do you think?” she asks.
Over the spot where a long pink scar once existed, Noah has placed a detailed floral stencil.
“There’s one more thing.” Noah stands at her side and adds a smaller stencil to the design, just between her breasts. “Callie had a special request.”
When he peels back the paper, a knot instantly forms in my throat, and my vision blurs. It doesn’t have any color yet, but it doesn’t have to—I know it’ll be blue.
She gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. “You ok there, Cowboy?”
I clear my throat and swipe my hand down my beard. “Yep. Fine.”
“Do you like it?” she asks hesitantly.
“It’s perfect.”
Noah slides over an extra stool so I can sit at Callie’s side while he starts working on her tattoo.
“Nice cuck chair,” Callie says with a teasing lilt.
Noah barks out a laugh. “I like her.”
“Yeah. Me too.” The words pale in comparison to how I really feel about this woman, but Noah’s not here to listen to me wax poetic about the way her eyes change with her mood, or the way her brow furrows when she’s concentrating.
Callie sits for a total of three hours with a couple of breaks in between. She hardly flinches, even when the numbing cream starts to wear off toward the end. I bring her snacks and keep her hydrated, and at one point, I swear she nearly falls asleep.
“You’re done,” Noah says. “Go take a look before I apply the bandage.”
I help Callie down from the chair and show her to the mirror. She heaves out a ragged breath, and her face crumples as she stares at her reflection. A vibrant bluebird stands out against the black floral vines and stems.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispers. “I’m beautiful.”
I step up behind her and place my hands on her shoulders. “You were always beautiful, Callie. But I’m glad you can see it now, too.”
“Thank you,” she whispers, placing her hand over mine. “This is everything to me.”
You are everything to me.
I kiss her forehead, letting my lips linger for a few extra heartbeats. “Let’s go home.”