Chapter 7 Pax
SEVEN
PAX
I’d been staring at my phone for twenty minutes, trying to figure out what to say.
I saw your tattoo and it’s identical to mine. Weird, right?
Nah, that was too casual.
We need to talk about the blistering flames on our shoulders.
Nope, not that.
Do you believe in fate?
I didn’t, but Aunt June had. While I’d always been skeptical, living in this house, touching the surfaces she’d run her hands over for years, and breathing in the air that she had, I was wondering if she’d been onto something.
I’d spent the two days since the birthday party researching the meaning of matching tattoos and how likely it was that two strangers had the same tattoo.
I even typed in “soulmate marks” which was kinda bonkers.
I hardly knew Dray, and what was a soulmate anyway?
Did they fall in love or did the universe push them together?
Was there no choice and it was all pre-determined?
But nothing explained how my skin under the tattoo reacted when Dray was near. It was as though I’d plugged myself into an electrical outlet, and I was surprised I didn’t light up. How I wished my aunt were here because she’d put it into perspective and it’d make sense.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Dray. He was in my head, and I longed for him to be in my mouth, pants, and hole.
My aunt’s words repeated in my head. There are no coincidences.
Great. “Show me what I’m missing,” I yelled at the ceiling as I hoped Aunt June was looking down on me. If she was, she was busy—probably reading someone’s palm—because I had no answers.
My tummy was in knots, and my clammy palms made it difficult to type. I read and reread the message. If I chickened out, I could pretend I wanted to talk about the repairs. That was a neutral topic that didn’t involve tattoos or fate.
Can we meet? I need to talk to you about something. Café at 2?
He was going to think I was unhappy with his work or I’d been rethinking the cost and was reneging on the payments. That was why I’d chosen a neutral location. There’d be people in the café so I couldn’t rip my jacket off and demand answers. Or yell and tug at fistfuls of hair.
Sure. See you there.
He didn’t ask why which was good, and I had two hours to figure out what to say.
The café was overly warm when I walked in. Arthur was behind the counter wearing a light sweater. He rubbed his hands together, saying the outside temperature had taken a nosedive. How did he live here in winter instead of somewhere further south?
“The usual, Pax?
“Just coffee, and I’ll get the food to go.”
I’d forgotten how many times I’d been here since I’d arrived, and now I had a café usual. This small town was getting used to me.
I took a table by the window away from her customers who were finishing their lunch and brushed my palms on my jeans. Arthur’s internal body temperature was creating a problem. I was supposed to appear nonchalant, not a sweaty mess.
Dray walked in right on time, and my heart performed some complicated maneuver that wasn’t in any medical textbook. He waved and ordered coffee before sliding into the seat opposite me.
“Hi.”
This was it, and I wasn’t sure how to begin, or end, or even middle.
He raised one brow when I didn’t respond, or maybe it was my panicked expression.
“What did you want to ask me?” he asked, and I blurted out, “I need to ask you something,” at the same time.
He signaled for me to continue, but how did I ask the meaning of matching tattoos? And if I went a step further, I might talk about destiny. But just having that word in my head was ridiculous.
I gulped, picturing the flames curling over Dray’s shoulder and those scales surrounding them.
“Pax, what’s wrong?” He extended his hand as if he was going to grab mine but reversed his decision and pulled it back.
Gods, it was hot in here. Arthur needed to get his hand off the thermostat.
“Mmmm. This is harder than I thought.”
Arthur, who’d removed his sweater, appeared with our coffees and a bag of my food.
I wrapped my hands around the mug, though the last thing I needed was more heat. Dray’s dark eyes were fixed on me, and I squirmed.
“I saw something the other day.” My coffee was my lifeline, and I peered at it, hoping the words I needed to say would appear in the froth.
“Like what?”
“Your tattoo.”
He didn’t say anything, but his eyes grew darker, and I shivered.
“I was in the turret looking at you.” Now I sounded creepy. “You took off your shirt.” That image was burned into my brain. “And I saw your tattoo.”
“Oh.”
That was it? That was all he was going to say? I needed deets. I wiped the sweat from my brow. The café was like a sauna, and I tugged at my sweater, but I didn’t want to take it off in here.
“Can we go outside?”
Dray nodded and told Arthur he’d transfer the money for our coffees and my food. How could the man think of hot drinks at a time like this? But he didn’t know I had a tattoo too, so he had no clue why I wanted to talk about the markings on his body.
I walked to the side of the building away from prying eyes in the café.
“I have the same tattoo.”
“Oh.”
I put both hands over my eyes. I needed Dray to say more than, “Oh.” Perhaps he thought I had a butterfly or a star. That wouldn’t be unusual. But not flames surrounded by greeny-blue scales.
Wrenching the sweater off, followed by my shirt, I revealed my marking. The tattoo scales shimmered in the sunlight, and my internal body temperature increased.
“I never understood why I got this. My memories are blurred, but it’s been eight years.”
His expression was unreadable, but his pupils narrowed. They were so much darker than I recalled. He reached out as if to touch my tattoo, but I stepped to the side. I needed an explanation, though a few days ago, I’d wanted nothing more than for him to put his hands on and in me.
“Dray, say something, please. And not just ‘Oh.’” I tried to control my breathing that had me sounding like an old-fashioned train engine puffing up a steep hill. “Take off your shirt and show me.”
He’s going to refuse. I know he is. That was what I’d do if I were him.
But he tossed aside his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. I focused on each of those buttons, not ‘cause of what lay beneath them but because of what he’d say when he revealed the tattoo.
And there it was, up close and identical to mine. My tattoo burned so hard, I glanced down, expecting the flames to be real.
We stood beside the café, both of us shirtless, staring at the marks on our skin. Dray didn’t offer an explanation, and I asked how it was possible. He was clenching and unclenching his hands, and judging by his expression, he was doing the same to his jaw.
“It’s, ummm, difficult to explain.”
“Try me.”
“They’re a sign.”
Obviously, they were tattoos. They were a sign we both had the same damned one. I took deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart and the frustration at Dray not explaining.
“They show up when two people are connected.”
Now he was talking fairy tales. Tattoos didn’t just randomly appear on people’s bodies.
“You’re shitting me.”
“They’re permanent.”
Of course they were! I couldn’t take it any more, and I stomped toward my car, ignoring the looks I was getting from people. Damn, I was bare-chested. I pulled on my sweater and tossed the shirt in the car.
Wait, he’d said we were connected. Gods, were we related in some way? Please tell me I hadn’t been lusting after a guy who turned out to be a relative.
I put my hands over my ears, mumbling, “No, no, no. Are you my long-lost cousin or something?” Maybe Aunt June had a kid I didn’t know about. Or a grandkid.
“No, ewww. Not that.” He folded his arms but didn’t cover his upper body.
There were some adoring looks from passersby, and I almost yelled, “Keep walking. No peeking allowed.”
“I can show you something that might make it easier to understand.”
For a split second, I thought he was going to drop his pants.
“But not here.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve waited eight years since I got it, and I can’t F it up.”
Eight years for what? For me to arrive in town? Someone was messing with my head. I’d almost forgotten about the tattoo during those years. It was just there, staring at me when I showered or swam.
“Follow me and I’ll explain everything.”
He unlocked his car but I was still standing where he’d left me. His hand on the door was trembling, and he was biting his bottom lip so hard it was going to bleed.
“Are you coming, Pax?” There was a plea in his voice.
I nodded.