Chapter 11 #2
She just gazed at me. Her piercing eyes locked onto mine for an agonizing hour. She didn’t break eye contact until the tattoo was finally finished. Then, slowly, she sat up, brushing a strand of hair from her face as if emerging from darkness.
God, she was fucking beautiful.
“Well?” She asked, spinning around, holding the mirror up. “What do you think?”
I stepped forward, reaching out instinctively. My fingers hovered just above the freshly inked stars. I wanted to touch her. So fucking bad. But I knew I couldn’t because of a possible infection. She flinched slightly as my fingers lingered over her skin, tracing the stars in the air.
“It’s perfect.”
I glanced at her. Her eyes were full of tears, and I felt an overwhelming connection to her. Her feelings, her scar, and just her.
“My turn,” I murmured, gently removing my shirt.
“Wait, what?” She asked, her voice trembling with surprise.
“Yeah, while you were busy looking at designs earlier, I told John here that I wanted whatever you picked out, too,” I said, a slow smirk playing on my lips.
“But what… what if I had picked out something like a butterfly or a heart or a moth?”
I chuckled darkly.
“A moth? Seriously? I’d probably skip that one, but a butterfly?” I shrugged. “I’d look pretty sexy, right?”
Her eyes flickered with a mixture of desire and suspicion before she burst into laughter.
“I love you,” she whispered, and my chest tightened with a dark, aching need.
John shook his head.
“You two are super cute,” he said with a sugar-coated layer of cynicism.
I ignored him, but I thought to myself, Yeah, we are pretty cute.
“I want it right here, a little bit bigger,” I stated, pointing to my left shoulder. “The same as hers.”
She watched me like I was made of glass. Like she didn’t want to miss a single second.
Fuck, getting the tattoo hurt. She had made it seem so painless, but I was dying.
Don’t let her see how badly it hurts. Don’t let her see how weak you are, I told myself.
But I was a pussy. I was about to cry.
Her hand drifted to my knee halfway through, like she needed to touch me, and honestly, it made me feel better.
“It hurts, right?” she asked, voice gentle.
“Fuck yeah, it does,” I said with a shaky laugh, exhaling slowly.
“You’ve got this.”
The needle’s whine drilled into my skull. I clamped my hand over Mackenzie’s, her pulse fluttering beneath my fingers.
“Big guys are always the worst,” John observed, wiping blood away with a sterile pad. “Relax.”
“Fuck off,” I said, sweat beading at my hairline.
The needle buzzed again, tearing hot lines down my shoulder. Mackenzie flinched when I flinched.
John glanced up, eyes flicking between us without moving his head. “You two together?”
She swallowed. “What makes you think that?”
John leaned back, stretching his gloves with a snap. “Most couples who come through here either break up or get married. If you two survive each other, come back for more. I’ll discount it.”
My heartbeat tripped. Marriage. The word shouldn’t have hit as hard as it did. The picture formed too fast in my head—her with my name, my ring, my future carved into her skin and her life.
I imagined her wearing my name under her skin, inked where only I would ever see.
The shop’s overhead LEDs buzzed faintly, catching on the stainless steel tray and the neatly laid-out needles. The delusion of marriage in my mind snapped.
What the fuck was I thinking?
I forced a breath out. “Then don’t fuck it up. We might be back.”
John snorted without looking up from his setup. “I never fuck up.”
She looked away first, and I felt the loss like cold air rushing in.
Afterward, with both of us wrapped tight in fresh Saniderm, I reached for her—then hissed, pulling back with a half-laugh. “Shit, it burns.”
She laughed, reaching for me.
“Can’t even touch it,” she said, fingers tapping lightly on the unwrapped part near my elbow instead.
“You can touch me everywhere else,” I offered, maybe too fast.
Her eyes suggested she understood all the implications, yet there was also a subtle snapping hinting at her restraint.
“I wanted it to be mine,” she whispered, eyes locked on my arm. “But it’s even better now that it’s ours.”
Ours.
“Thanks for doing this with me. For me,” she added.
Her voice shook, and I swear my soul climbed into her palm when she cupped my face. Her thumb dragged just below my eyes, and I went still, because if I moved, if I breathed, I’d say it. I’d say everything. I was a fucking sap.
But I’d have done it a thousand times over if it meant being the person she reached for when the world got too heavy.
“Always,” I said.
Could she feel it? That I’d already given her every piece of me without asking for anything back? That I’d burn down the world for her with a grin if she asked?
It had happened so fast. Maybe it had been happening for years. Maybe I just needed someone else to point it out so it would feel real. I knew it at the lake, but I had kept fighting myself. But now I really knew it, and I couldn’t ignore it.
Fuck.
Loving her wasn’t going to kill me.
Not loving her would.