“Try me.”
I stared at the challenge in her expression but caught sight of her wedding band. “No.”
“No?” she nearly pouted, her lip not quite protruding.
“You wear a band of a man who wants to take you from me. Until you’re mine, you don’t get my touch.”
She grunted, setting her head back. “This is stupid.”
“The fact that you’re about to get married is stupid. If you truly wanted me, it wouldn’t be a hard sell.”
She shook her head, her emotions warring with every look at me. “It’s not easy, Madden. When life gets hard, you run. I can’t handle you leaving me again.”
It took her saying that to me to understand that what held her back was... me. It wasn’t her wanting Brandon, needing him more than me. No, it was me.
Her fear of me.
Something about that didn’t sit right. I’d always been her protector, the one she could count on, depend on for every fucking thing. Yet, she couldn’t even trust me to stay.
Part of me wanted to kiss her—take away her fear—the other logical part of me was stuck on Brandon. On the fact that he was given a promise from her—yes to marriage—whereas I had nothing.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I offered, the only thing I could give her right now.
Sadness.
That met me as her honey eyes did. “That’s not enough for me.”
“For now, it has to be.”
She shook her head, an unbearable weight hanging around my neck. My own noose for the making. It was something I’d never truly get used to. It pained me thinking I hurt her to the point of fear. I’d never abandoned anyone. That was my parents’ MO, yet here I was, the one who left her and Cars.
I fucked up badly and didn’t even realize it at first.
Standing, I cleaned my hands, all the way to my elbows. The hot water was a welcome distraction to the person weighing down on my conscience. Putting on two pairs of gloves, a sense of normalcy settled in me and allowed me to breathe once more. I grabbed the ink, the packaged supplies, and got my station ready. My nerves heightened as she fully took off her bra, letting all of herself hang out.
My eyes were trained not to stare at body parts, but Andy shook my foundation, creating a cracked exterior to be weathered away. Her right nipple was pierced, a little crown and sword charm connecting through it.
Warmth sizzled inside me, my mouth frozen along with my limbs. When I got into the gist of work, the flow of just doing and not seeing, it didn’t affect me. Ever. But even now, knowing I’d be in the zone of art, I couldn’t settle.
I didn’t say anything as I grabbed the antiseptic. She stared at me with trust. While she had trust in me in this moment, it only extended to my talent. She didn’t trust me with her heart, and that was enough to wreck a guy.
She took a deep breath, not saying anything. But her words didn’t need to be spoken to be heard. It was clear, the conversation was over for now.
And that alone scared me.
We were a little over a week out.
One where she’d either choose a forever with him or a whatever-the-hell I could offer her from me. What would we even do with me being gone? How could we be together when my tour started the day before she planned on getting married? I didn’t know how to cope with that idea.
Hell, I didn’t know how to cope with anything anymore.
Not her.
Not Cars.
Not the fact that Donnie kept calling me, wanting me to sign over my rights. I couldn’t understand his hard-on for full control unless he wanted to rip Dad’s legacy away.
But why would he? What did he gain?
Once upon a time, Donnie was my godfather. Then his wife and my dad cheated and screwed everything up. That was when Dad and Donnie had issues. They broke up for a few years. While Dad and Mom hated it, I loved the time I got with them uninterrupted.
“What color, realistic?” I shook my head, coming back to the present and Andy’s need for ink.
“Imagine your lips, Toland. That’s what I want.”
“Do you have lipstick?”
She pushed up then, a coy smile on her face. It didn’t take a smart man to know she wanted this all along. She wanted a part of me I didn’t offer others.
My touch.
She pulled out a red one from her bag. It matched the one she wore at the club. It fit her perfectly, even better if I’d smeared it with my thumb.
The red of her tinted lips, not quite fully faded, stared back at me now. I wondered what they’d look like even more smeared by me. It was something I’d wanted since being eighteen and lost.
Back then I had so much hatred for the world, and not much changed. Yet, we did. Somewhere along the damaged briars and glass hearts, we broke.
“Ready?”
I smiled, not meaning it. Tattooing her wasn’t on my agenda, let alone something I thought I’d be able to do easily. She handed me her lipstick and right before putting it on my lips, it hovered as the film of discontent covered me.
To break free from the thought of the ick, I remembered I had a printer to fix this. Heading toward it, I took a picture of my lips, scanning it. After converting it, I printed my lips.
They were a little big for a male, or at least, everyone always mentioned the size of them. The funniest part was the way there were dents from my piercings.
I put gel on her breast, avoiding her nipple. After she shivered, it perked up and I laid the image down, watching as she watched me.
It transferred easily, making the perfect stencil for my ink. While my skin was fully covered by my black gloves, I swore the fire spreading from where my fingertips and her skin connected wasn’t a figment of my imagination. And when she bit her lip, I started on one of the most important pieces of my life.
Until today, it was another.
Reaver, like the one that encompasses my entire forearm. It meant so much to me and it took me about six months of constant drawing in the mirror to get it right. By doing it, I became capable of tatting with both my hands. A skill I never knew I’d need.
This moment would forever be written on my soul like the stamp of my lips were on her.
It changed everything and by the dazed expression in her eyes, I knew it did for her too.
She had a little over a week.
If she didn’t choose me, a part of me knew this would be my last week in Brightmore. Even if I couldn’t truly acknowledge it.
Chapter Thirty-One
1x1 – Bring Me the Horizon
Andy
“Andy?” Amelia—Brandon’s Mom—questioned as I waited at the gate for her. It was packed at the airport, far too many people coming and going. That wasn’t why my nerves were shot. On the road to tattoo recovery, I knew I’d flinch if she hugged me. She’d ask why and I’d have to pretend I didn’t just get branded with another man’s lips.
Brandon had a surprise meeting he had to attend and I was stuck picking up Satan. Lily would be here tomorrow. Thankfully, I didn’t have to deal with them both at once alone.
“Yeah, it’s me,” I said with a smile, faking the perky attitude, knowing her preppy composure revolved around respect. She wore a tailored dress, pink and topped with a knitted blazer, something you’d expect from a Stepford housewife. But you see, Brandon’s dad passed away and she was the lady of their house.