Chapter Five
Keaton
Late July…
“I wish I was there,” I tell Lily, unable to stop looking at her face on the screen. God love the person that invented video calls.
“Me, too,” she replies. I can hear it in her voice. She misses me as much as I do her. The time apart is hard on any couple, but with us still being newly married, it’s even more so. “You got a new bruise?” she remarks, seeing the ice pack wrapped around my arm.
“I’ve been working it hard today, so it’s a little sore.”
“Need me to come kiss it and make it better.”
“If you’re offering, I have a few places that could use your touch.”
“Same, husband. Same. My hands just don’t have the effect on me that yours do.”
Aching arm forgotten, I know have another appendage that needs the cold to settle down. “Mine has nothing on you,” I reply, glancing down to where my shorts are tented just thinking about being alone with her.
Not wanting to make either of our situations worse, I change the subject and ask about work.
She tells me about her first day at Inkwell, the tattoo shop she works for by appointment only.
Her hours are limited as she make it known that me and the hospital are her priorities.
The owner said they understood and would have no problem letting her set her schedule.
It doesn’t hurt that the exclusivity such an arrangement portrays had her waiting list filling up fast.
A lot of my teammates only strictly let her ink them. They like to give me shit, threatening to ask for one in a special place, but I know they’d never put either of us in that position. Not to mention they’d hate to explain who did it when they meet their own soulmates.
“How’s it going there?”
“The rookies are fitting in,” I tell her. “Which is always a concern because you never know how they’ll mesh with our personalities and styles.”
“Being the captain, I’m assuming smoothing things over falls on you when they don’t.”
“It does.”
“You’re really good at it,” she encourages me. “They’ll learn a lot from you.”
She knows how important the role is and, while this isn’t my first year holding it, each time they vote to have me hold the position, I get a little choked up at the proof of their faith in me.
“I love you,” I tell her, wishing I was with her, her voice helping me to imagine that I am. And with that dream settling my heart, I fall asleep with her whispering that she loves me, too.