Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Suffering succotash, the older I get, the more tattoos hurt.
Am I tattooing a sugar glider on my knee in the middle of the night to avoid going upstairs and asking Maddox his life story?
Yes. Yes, I am.
Because by some miracle, Maddox stayed. He stayed, and now he’s staying in the guest bedroom upstairs.
Did I tell him I had a client early in the morning, and he may as well just get a few hours of sleep ‘cause I’ll need him again?
Yes.
Did it look like he knew exactly what I was doing?
Also yes.
But he stayed.
The tattoo machine rattles as I go over the bone, and sweet, mind-numbing pain embraces me.
It cuts through every thought of revenge, every memory, even the absolute high of coming home and seeing that Maddox was still here.
Now, did he offer to transfer money into my account to pay for staying here?
Yes. Buggar. I forgot that paying him meant he also had my information to pay me. It’s okay, I’ll make sure to repay him somehow. I mean, the man just lost everything. Why is he paying me? Oh, maybe he’ll want a tattoo. I haven’t seen any on him. I wonder if he has any hidden–
“What is it?”
I yelp, jumping as my vision goes black for a second. I raise my tattoo machine up to defend myself, and there, standing in the shadows, is Maddox, arms crossed across his chest.
For a moment, I just stare, then I let out a shuddering laugh. I am not used to having anyone else in my home. I forgot how they can just…move around whenever they want to, unlike Princess.
Then, I register his question. He’s looking at my knee.
“Oh, uh, sugar glider.”
Maddox just stands there, looking so…freaking hot, all moody with his muscles popping out of his shirt. Definitely not a friendly look, but heck, that makes me melt even more.
Fudge! No, focus. I’m supposed to be playing it cool.
I go back to outlining the sugar glider’s foot. “You have any?”
Maddox is silent. I risk a tiny glance back, and he’s just watching every move I make with a stillness like he’s studying me.
I can barely breathe. I’ve been watched while I work a thousand times, but nothing like this. I feel a drop of sweat dripping down the side of my ribcage.
Play it cool, play it cool.
“Does it mean something?” he asks.
I can’t help but notice Maddox didn’t answer the tattoo question. Does he have any? Maybe some he got when he was younger and is embarrassed about now?
“Oh, uh, yeah.” I can’t point to my reference photo on my tablet, or he’ll see my shaky hands. “His name was Terror. He was black and gray.”
Maddox is silent.
Oh man, are my hands sweaty ‘cause I’m doing my knee, or because Mr. Broody and Hot is watching over me like a…like a hot teacher or something?
“Mine was Nippy.” His voice is bitter, like he’s mad to be talking to me.
Nippy. I like that. I smile. “Cute. I’m guessing he or she bit you?”
There’s a soft snort that I’m assuming is a yes.
I shrug. “Maybe you tasted sweet.”
Silence. Another drop of sweat drips down my armpit. Great, this is going great. Now you’ve talked about how he tastes, good job, Micah. Why don’t you just ask him to whip his dick out while you’re at it?
“I’ve heard humans actually taste like pork. Not that Nippy ever got that much of us.”
I turn to look at Maddox now. He just raises one dark eyebrow.
“Pork?”
He shrugs. “That’s what cannibals say, anyway.”
My eyes widen.
“And that tattoos don’t taste good.” He nods at me. “So you’re…more than safe.” His lips curl slightly.
Mother fluffer, Maddox is so weird…I freaking love him.
“You get this information from your cannibal friends?” The machine is buzzing in my hand, but I don’t return to my tattoo; I just look at the god of a man behind me.
He just shrugs. “Yeah, sorry, they were out of town to pick up Larry from the butcher, so I had to bother you for a place to stay.”
“You’re not bothering me.” The words are instantaneous. In fact, it’s kinda nice to have him here, albeit a bit nerve-wracking. But he can’t help that he’s so hot. So, like an idiot, I keep talking. “I prefer steak anyway. Beefsteak, not human.”
“Oh? Have you tried human?”
I give a dramatic sigh. “Back in my wild days. I thought it tasted more like chicken than pork.”
Maddox gives a soft snort, and it’s the most beautiful sound because this snort sounds slightly less guarded. For a second, I’m caught up in it. Maddox is so harsh all the time; I wonder what he’d sound like if he were being himself?
“Everything tastes like chicken,” Maddox says.
I splutter, looking up at him. “I beg to differ. Have you never had a good steak?”
Maddox just shrugs, but there’s the tiniest something on his face, and then I notice it.
Dimples. His dimples are out.
Fudge, I nearly let my mouth drop open. He’s so freaking cute I can’t!
Then I remember he’s looking at me, and I give a long, dramatic sigh.
“Nothing will ever live up to a nice steak, medium rare, with some broccoli and garlic aioli fries on the side. Nothing.” Even the thought has my mouth watering.
A little ketchup with the fries? Sweet to mix with the garlic and pepper on the steak? Heaven on earth.
Maddox interrupts my thoughts. “Careful, don’t drool on your work.”
I wave him away. “Whatever, chicken lover. You could never understand the depths of my thoughts right now.”
We’re quiet for a bit, me working on my knee and him watching. I can’t help but feel hungry now. Curse him. Hungry for both the meat we’ve been talking about and the meat standing not five feet beside me, practically sizzling with heat.
Then, Maddox says, “I actually uh…came down to ask…” He pauses so long I’m not sure he’s going to finish his response.
Whatever he needs, the answer is yes. Yes, yes, yes, I’ll always try to give Maddox anything he wants. Because if he’s happy, I’m happy.
“Do you have Advil?” he asks like he’s pissed.
“Yeah! Top cabinet over the microwave.” Wait, is he okay?
Maddox disappears, and I want to follow him. I hear the cabinets opening and shutting, then the pill bottle shakes.
I keep my voice casual. “You good?”
“Yeah.” The answer is curt.
Something in me crumples. The dimples are gone, and I’ve ruined it. I’ve asked too many questions.
Maddox acts like he’s going to walk upstairs, then stops. There’s a pregnant silence before he mutters something I can’t hear, then something louder. “My tooth.”
Maddox looks so deeply uncomfortable with that smallest bit of information, as if he just told me his deepest, darkest secret, that I open my mouth to fill the silence.
“You know my dad was a dentist.” My machine rattles as I go over bone again.
“Oh?” Maddox is still standing there, halfway between staying and leaving.
“Yeah,” I laugh ruefully. “I extra hated going to the dentist.” Maybe if I share stuff about my own life, Maddox won’t feel so uncomfortable. “The dentist sucked, and my dad sucked. He’s dead, but I still wouldn't go today.”
I’ve moved on to the sugar glider’s other foot, his skin stretched out in a leap over my knee. And Maddox is still here.
“I still get cavities,” I blabber. “Has a lot more to do with genetics than you’d think.”
I wonder why Maddox hasn’t gone in if his tooth is that bad. Is it that he’s afraid? Or is it finances? He does work two jobs and seemingly really long hours. And dentist stuff is expensive. Oh man, what if it is finances?
I think about all the money I have in my account, not only from Dad’s passing, but from the living I make off tattooing. I never have to worry about money when I have a medical issue; I just go and get it taken care of. Maddox might not be able to do that. That’s not fair. It’s not freaking fair.
“You know, my family and I get free dental care at my dad’s office for life,” I say. It’s not true, but that doesn’t matter. I can bribe the staff to act like it is. “You could stop by sometime as an extension of me, have them check it out.”
There’s a beat of silence, then Maddox straightens, his voice a bit stiff. “I’ll be okay.”
No, no! He’s pulling away. So, I, in my infinite knowledge, double down.
“It’s literally no problem; they wouldn’t even question it.”
“Thank you, really, but…” Maddox is backing into the hallway.
“It’s not…”
“I’m sorry for interrupting. Have a good night.”
Then, he’s gone.
My chest feels hollow. What is wrong with me? Maddox has never once been comfortable with accepting help, and here I am, waving it in his face. But if his tooth is so bad he can’t sleep, then he needs help! I won’t even notice the difference. Why is he fighting me on this?
Angry tears wet my eyes as I do the rest of my design. I’m not sure if it’s from the pain or from the helplessness, or a little bit of both.
I’m smothering him.
As I finish off the sugar glider’s head, I decide that’s it.
If Maddox stays, I can’t do anything else to scare him off.
Can’t offer him anything, can’t get in his space, can’t scare him off.
I will just have to show him with my actions that I care, that I mean what I say.
I can’t risk losing him forever, so I’ll just be less.
Less chatty, less helpful, less me. Which is what I should have done with Tyler, too.
I’ll just…stop.