Chapter Thirteen
TABITHA
Ijump up with a squeal after the ball goes into the pocket. My head is a little fuzzy after two very strong rum and cokes, but I play my best game of pool when I’m buzzed and confident.
“Has he seen that?” James chuckles behind me.
I look over my shoulder to see him staring at my ass. “What?”
“What made you get his initials?” He smirks as he walks around the table to face me.
James shakes his shaggy blonde hair out of his eyes. He’s had the same curtain-style haircut since we were kids. It makes him look like he belongs in a nineties boy band, not a motorcycle club.
“It’s just a flower.” I reach back and tug my shirt down to make sure it’s covered.
“Uh huh.” He leans over, but his eyes twinkle with mischief. “I’ve never seen letters in a flower before.”
“It must have been the light; it’s just swirls inside of it.” It’s a lie—a flat-out horrible one—but I’m not ready to admit the truth to anyone. It’s the same thing I’ve told anyone who’s asked, outside my tattoo artist, who knew what I wanted.
Honestly, I never thought I would get more tattoos. The hummingbird was the only one I ever wanted when I was younger. It was the one I knew I wanted, even as a teenager.
Until I found out my best friend was married and didn’t tell me.
At the time, we’d grown apart and were never around each other.
It was my way of carrying a piece of him with me, even though life moved on without us.
Just like the hummingbird was to carry my great grandmother with me, this was something to remember him by.
It’s not like I even saw either of my tattoos.
I often forget they were there, since they were both on my back.
I know it seems silly to have tattoos with meaning somewhere where I won’t even see them.
It’s not like I get the constant reminder of them.
But, now and then, I’ll remember, and it feels like they have my back.
It means something.
My ex never even brought it up. He commented on the flower when I first got it, but he never looked close enough. It’s not like he paid attention to the small things.
“Whatever you say, Tab.” James laughs.
I ignore him and move to sink another ball and miss. “I’m done with this game.”
I’m not trying to be a sore loser. I just don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about my tattoo, whatever is going on between me and Archie, my house, my ex—none of it. Tonight is supposed to be about letting loose with a few friends. I want to forget my problems, not feel.
My steps are soft as I move toward the bar and slide the glass across the old wooden bar top.
“How many have you had?” Lee hesitates as he reaches for the rum.
“Two, Dad.” I scrunch my nose up at the man. He’s not my dad; he’s Archie’s. I still like to tease him when he acts fatherly—which he does—often.
He shakes his head as he makes my drink. “Last one, sweetheart.”
“Thank you.” I smile as I reach for my cup.
I turn around and carry the drink towards the dartboard.
Archie is erasing the score on the chalkboard.
My eyes trail over his dark denim jeans hugging his backside.
I swallow as I take in the way his muscles flex with every move he makes.
Okay, maybe I didn’t need another drink, because I can’t stop the thoughts that are coming to mind.
“Up for another game?” I lean against the back of the chair before setting my glass down on the table.
Archie chuckles and looks over his shoulder. “I heard you’re not finishing games tonight.”
I scoff. “I will if you don’t bring up anything serious. I just want to have fun for one night. We can worry about the real world tomorrow. Please, Archie. Let’s just have fun tonight.”
“Alright, but let’s turn it into an actual game.” He passes me a few of the darts.
I rub my finger along the edge of one of them. “What did you have in mind?”
He smiles, and I can’t help but notice the way it reaches up to his eyes. Those blue eyes pierce through me, seeing too deep. “Oh, it’s a game we’ve played before as kids.” He laughs. “Every direct bullseye is a chance for truth or dare.”
I bite the edge of my lip and slowly release it. Is this a trick? It doesn’t have to be serious questions. They could all be silly; this could be fun.
“Don’t overthink it.” He steps closer.
“You’re on.” I reach for my drink.
He steps to the side. “Ladies first.”
I sit my cup back down and line up. Inhale, pull back. Exhale, throw it. Direct hit.
I grin. “Truth or dare?” I glance up at him.
“Truth.”
I tap my lips as I think of something. Let’s keep it simple, nothing too deep. “Did you really miss me?”
Archie rubs the back of his neck. His biceps flex beneath the thin dark material of his shirt. “Of course.”
I miss the next two, and it’s his turn. He hits the center, of course.
“Truth or dare?”
I sigh. “Truth.”
“What’s the tattoo?”
“A sunflower.” I don’t skip a beat.
“Right.” Of course—he remembers.
We continue the game while asking questions.
“What made you decide to work for a security company?”
His brows push together. “It’s just something to pass the time. I don’t know if I’ll do it forever.”
It makes sense. I noticed how happy he was flying the plane; maybe he should be some sort of pilot. Archie has always loved being up in the sky, though.
“Alright.” He hits the center again. “Truth or dare?”
“Dare.” Why not mix things up?
Archie crosses his arms and thinks it over. “I dare you to find your happy again.”
“What?” What kind of dare is that?
“I know it won’t happen tonight. It may not even happen soon.” He steps closer and looks down into my eyes. “I just want you to find it again. Don’t worry about the impression or opinions of others. Find the happiness that soothes your soul and reminds you of hope.”
I swallow. “I’m done playing.” It’s getting too serious again.
I grab my glass, gulp the rest of it down, then leave it on the table to make my way back down the hall and up the stairs.
It wasn’t supposed to be him reminding me my life had gone to shit. Maybe not all of it, but it definitely hasn’t gone according to plan.
“Tabitha.” Archie catches up to me and grabs my wrist.
I twist and look down at where his hand rests on me. “I’m tired. I’m calling it a night.”
“Okay.” He lets go and I turn around. “Wait, what is that?”
I ignore him and pick up my pace to get to the bedroom. He calls after me, but I pretend I can’t hear him. I quickly get in the room and move to the bathroom so I can put a locked door between him. It’s not like I can lock him out of the room we’re sharing, but the bathroom—I definitely can.
Archie isn’t supposed to know about the tattoo. Nobody is supposed to know. It’s my secret. Something that isn’t supposed to change anything. He’ll question things and make a bigger deal out of it than it is.
It’s all in the past, just like our friendship.