28. Caitlin
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
caitlin
Jake’s bucket list may as well have been a glowing neon sign on my kitchen counter. I’d completed seven of the eleven items, but the remaining ones seemed to jump off the page at me.
Get a tattoo.
Do something reckless.
Make a change in appearance you’ve always wanted.
Say no to something you don’t want to do.
I’d tried not to overthink it too much, but every time I passed by the kitchen, I did. The other items had been fairly easy, especially with Jake encouraging me to complete them, and I had gone through a whole pack of polaroid photos as proof. But something about the last four intimidated me.
Getting a tattoo seemed impulsive, and I had never been impulsive. I wasn’t a reckless person to begin with, and I’d never really been great with change, although I’d been experiencing a lot of it the last few months. Clearly, I was also not good at saying no.
As though he’d somehow read my mind from across the yard, a knock—the distinct one Jake used when he came to my door—broke me out of my thoughts.
“I was just thinking about you,” I greeted him. Instant regret washed over me, but it dissipated when Jake smiled.
“You were?”
I stepped aside so he could enter the house, and he followed me into the kitchen.
“I only have four things left to do on your bucket list,” I explained, holding up the sheet of paper with the items I’d completed scratched out. “Whitley’s at my mom’s place again because she wanted a sleepover with Grandma, so I thought today would be a good day to mark off another one.”
He studied the list, eyes scanning left to right and lip worried between his teeth. “Do you know what you’d want for a tattoo?”
Admittedly, when I first saw that item on the list, I was surprised. I’d been saying for the last ten years I’d never get a tattoo, that I wasn’t going to ruin my body by permanently etching ink into my skin. Why would Jake have added something I was so blatantly against?
But when I looked back, the realization of Adam’s influence on my decisions hit me.
“I think I want to get a tattoo,” I mumbled while scrolling.
“A tattoo?” Adam wrinkled his nose. “Why the hell would you want to do that?”
“I think it’d be pretty. Look at this one.” Flipping my phone, I showed him the rose design I’d found.
“You look so much better without those. Getting a tattoo is like putting a bumper sticker on a Bentley, or whatever the saying is. Brings down the value.”
I rolled my eyes, daring to snap back, “Good thing I’m not a car, then.”
“Yes, but you’re my wife. How would that look if the girl I’m married to showed up with a trashy tattoo on her arm?”
“That’s not fair,” I protested. “I’m not your property. It’s my body.”
Adam sighed, throwing down his stupid finance book. “God, Caity, why are you being so dramatic about this? Get the damn tattoo if you want then, but don’t come crying to me when you hate it ten years from now because it’s all warped and shit.”
If Jake remembered that short, mundane conversation from eleven years ago, then what else about me had he carved into his memory? What parts of myself that I had discarded in my marriage had he attempted to discreetly salvage?
“After I had Whitley, I’d thought about getting a rose for a bit.
No color, because white roses are always what I’ve associated with her.
Even the challenges of pregnancy brought me something beautiful and pure despite the pain I had to endure.
She was my new beginning.” My lips pressed together as my vision threatened to blur.
“That’s her middle name, too, you know?”
“I think that’s beautiful, Cait.” Jake squeezed my shoulder. “Let’s do it.”
My brows raised. “We?”
“Yeah, I’ve been wanting another tattoo for a while, so why not? If you decide at the last minute you don’t want one, you don’t have to.”
“No, I want to,” I blurted.
The grin that spread across his face made me blush, heat creeping into every inch of my body.
“You sure?” His tone morphed into something more serious. “They’re permanent, is all. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being pressured into doing this for the sake of completing a silly bucket list.”
I nodded, reaching for his hand to give it a squeeze. “I’m sure.”
“Let me text my guy to see if he can get you in today.” Jake reached for his phone and started tapping away at the screen. A few minutes later, he nodded with a massive grin. “We’re all set.”
Jake drove us to the tattoo shop, and about thirty minutes later, we stood in front of the doors of Outlaw Ink.
I inhaled a deep breath, exhaling through puckered lips.
“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Jake reassured me. “Nothing is set in stone until the needle hits your skin.”
“Is it going to hurt?” I cringed, realizing how stupid the question was. Of course, it was going to hurt.
He just smiled. “I can tell you it’s probably not going to feel great, but everyone’s pain tolerance is different. I’ll be right there to hold your hand if you need me to.”
On an exhale, I puffed out my cheeks then nodded. “All right. Let’s do the damn thing.”
“That’s my girl.”
Butterflies swarmed inside my stomach, and I averted my gaze as Jake pushed open the door, the bells jingling as we stepped inside. Framed tattoo designs covering the moss-green walls immediately caught my attention before the individual tattoo booths separated by half walls.
“Be right there to help you, buddy,” a male employee called out to Jake, who offered him a mock salute.
“Van has done all of my tattoos so far. He’s a cool guy, so you don’t have anything to worry about. Some tattoo artists can be assholes, but Van will be good to you, I promise.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Cool, cool.”
The buzzing of tattoo machines and lo-fi music filled the space, and nerves rose in my chest as I continued to look around. My eyes bounced from one spot on the wall to another, unable to stay focused on one thing.
Footsteps approached the front of the shop, and my eyes snapped to the man in front of us. His arms were covered in tattoos, and ink peeked out from under his black T-shirt, snaking up the sides of his neck.
“Hey, name’s Van. Jake told me this will be your first tattoo, yeah?”
I nodded, words trapped in my mouth.
Van laughed, but it was warm, not malicious. “No need to be shy. Do you have a design idea?”
“Yeah. I have this one that I found.” I pulled out my phone, showing him the delicate fine-line rose.
“Very pretty. If you’re sure about that, text it to me and then I’ll draw something up and get sizes printed out.
In the meantime, I’ll also have you fill out this paperwork and attach your ID.
” He handed me a clipboard and a pen. “Jake, you got a design for me, too, buddy? Or are you just here for moral support?”
“I’ve got one, too, if you have time.”
“Always, my guy.” Then he disappeared to the back.
It only took me a couple minutes to fill out the paperwork and read the fine print.
Tattoos are permanent, aftercare instructions will be provided, I’m not under the influence type of stuff.
The rest of the time was spent anxiously waiting.
My palms were clammy and butterflies swarmed my stomach, but I wanted to do this. For myself.
When Van came back, we spent the next thirty minutes or so picking out a size and placing the tattoo stencil on my arm.
“Happy with this?” he asked when I looked in the mirror for what felt like the fiftieth time. “We can move it as much as you need. It’s going to be there forever, so make sure you like it.”
I nodded. “I like it here.”
“Good deal. All right, I’m going to have you sit here, and then I’ll adjust the armrest.”
He worked in silence, meticulously prepping his machine and ink and adjusting my position until we were both comfortable, only grunting out a few words in the meantime.
Jake sat next to me ready to hold my hand just like he promised.
“All right, Caitlin. You ready?” Van asked. “Just remember to breathe.”
“Ready.” I closed my eyes, not wanting to look. When the needle hit my skin for the first time, I inhaled a sharp breath and flinched.
“Are you doing all right?” he asked.
“Yep.” I gritted my teeth, trying not to tense up. Jake was right. It didn’t feel great, but it wasn’t necessarily unbearable. Just uncomfortable. After a few minutes, my body got used to the feeling and I started to relax.
Jake got up to go to the restroom, squeezing my free hand before he left.
Van jumped on the opportunity. “Jake’s told me a lot about you.”
“Oh?” My eyes bounced over to him.
“Yeah. I mean, the dude never shuts up about you. It’s been like that for years.”
“How long have you been doing tattoos for him?” I asked, trying to gauge how many years were years.
He blew a raspberry. “At least eight. The first time he came in was when he was fresh out of college.”
I hummed. “Hopefully nothing bad.”
Van laughed. “Nah. And if he was talking shit, I wouldn’t out him like that. The guy talks about you like you shit rainbows and butterflies, honestly.”
“Noted.” I snorted.
“How long have you two been together, then?”
“Pardon?”
“You and Jake. I assume you two are dating, right?”
Now it was my turn to laugh. “N-no.”
He lifted the tattoo machine from my arm, looking up at me with raised brows before tilting his head slightly then getting back to work.
“Jake’s just…” I hesitated. “Jake’s a friend.”
Van grunted. Apparently, he was a man of few words when he didn’t like the answer he got. Or maybe he was just focused.
This was the fourth time someone had hinted at Jake having feelings for me.
I thought Ellison and my mom were just being cheeky a couple months ago with their not-so-subtle hints, and Bec had pointed out how he’d shown up for me when I needed him most. And yeah, maybe Jake had feelings for me now, but what was I missing?
My mind flashed back to the day we painted Whitley’s room. The almost-kiss I thought was all in my head. Then back to Ellison and Colter’s wedding, and even before then at my own wedding.
Has Jake had feelings for me this entire time?
The air between us was tense on the drive home from the tattoo shop.
My mind still reeled from the things Van said about Jake.
Part of me wanted answers. Firstly, to know if the things I felt for him were reciprocated.
I believed they were, but I needed that undoubtable confirmation.
Secondly, I wanted to know how long those feelings had been there.
But the other part of me was scared of the answer I’d receive.
“Where’d you go just now?” Jake asked, his eyes drifting away from the road toward me.
“Nowhere,” I lied as I shook my head, gaze glued to the floorboards. “It’s nothing.”
“Cait,” he pushed. “What’s wrong?”
“Van just said something odd, that’s all.”
Jake’s head whipped toward me, fire flaring in his expression. “Did he do something to make you uncomfortable?”
I put my hands up in surrender. “No, no, no, nothing like that. He was great. He just made it seem like…I don’t know, he asked how long we’d been together.”
The color drained from his face, but otherwise, he hid his emotion well. “Ah, I see.”
“What was that all about?”
Jake looked as though he was debating whether to brush it off or not. After a few moments of deliberation, he let out a sigh. “Van has been there for me for the last eight years, and he’s seen me in a lot of different stages of my life. He always means well.”
“But?”
“But he also doesn’t know when to shut his mouth.” He laughed, and the conversation slammed to a halt.
We pulled into the driveway, and Jake threw the pickup in park.
I bit the inside of my cheek, unsure of whether I should keep pushing the subject or not. Deciding to let it go, I opened the truck door and hopped out, my shoes crunching against the gravel. Without looking back, I started toward the front door of the guest house.
“Cait!” Jake called out to me, and I froze on the grass.
By the time I turned to look at him over my shoulder, he was behind me. I spun on my heels, and his hands settled on my waist.
“Don’t go,” he whispered, and then his lips were on mine.
A soft squeak left my mouth, and my eyes widened before fluttering shut as I gave in. The kiss was gentle, soft, like he was scared to push too far.
Despite the gentleness of the kiss, my fingers slid through his hair and I grasped the strands. One of his hands found the back of my neck, and he pulled me even closer to him. My heart rattled against my ribcage like an animal trying to tear its way out of my chest and fall into his palms.
I could feel his pulse, his own heart hammering to the same beat.
When we finally broke apart, chests heaving and foreheads pressed together, I whispered, “What are we doing, Jake?”
He didn’t pull back, simply breathing out the words, “What do you mean?”
“Don’t you think…isn’t this a bad idea?” I started to push him away, even though my hands, fisting his shirt, lingered for a second too long.
“It’s never been a bad idea to me. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you.”
I shook my head, disbelief clouding my head. “You don’t mean that.”
He stepped back toward me, closing the distance I’d created a second before. “Yes, yes I do.”
“Why? Why, though?”
Pain flashed in his gaze, his mouth twisting in agony. “Because I’ve wanted you for the last ten years, Cait! Because it should have been me instead!”
“W-what do you mean?”
His words were merely a whisper, but they still echoed. “I didn’t want you to marry him. I wanted to tell you.”