The Ending I Want

by Samantha Towle

I don’t want to die a tattoo virgin.

  “You can pick the tattoo for me if you want.”

  The crazy look leaves his face and is replaced with surprise. “You want me to pick something for you?”

  “You don’t have to. But I’d like it if you did.”

  Then, it’ll be like I’m getting his mark on me. Something Liam chose to put on my skin.

  Yeah, I like that idea.

  “I’d love to.” He leans over and kisses me.

  Paul pulls up outside the tattoo parlor. I let myself out of the car. Paul is out of his door, on his way to open mine. Smiling, he shakes his head in exasperation at me.

  “Sorry. I just forget. I’m used to letting myself out of cars.”

  Liam gets out behind me. “Well, you shouldn’t be. You should have spent your whole life being chauffeured around, Boston.”

  “Aw, you say the nicest things.” I grin at him over my shoulder.

  Liam shuts the car door, and we walk over to the tattoo parlor.

  He gets the door for me. I walk inside. There’s a girl behind the counter. Her arms are covered in tattoos. She has a piercing in her lip and another in her nose. Her ears are full of piercings. She has white-blonde hair—shaved at one side, the other side hanging just below her ear.

  She’s really attractive.

  “Hey.” She smiles at us.

  I see the way her eyes widen at Liam. Can’t say I blame her.

  He’s dressed in jeans and a V-neck gray sweater. His wavy hair is in that just-got-out-of-bed look, which I love so much. He’s looking his usual gorgeous self.

  “We have an appointment for Taylor Shaw, but I’m hoping you can fit another one in.”

  “Another one?” I turn to him.

  “Yeah. Me.”

  “You?” My eyes widen in surprise.

  “Babe, you’re getting a tattoo done, and you’re letting me choose the design, so the least I can do is return the favor.”

  “It’s not a favor, Hunter. I want you to pick it.”

  “I know. And knowing you trust me makes me fucking happy. So, I want to give that feeling back to you.”

  My heart does that little thumpity-thump in my chest.

  “We’re pretty clear at the moment.” The girl is looking on the computer. “Yeah, we should be able to fit you in, no problem.” She smiles at Liam.

  “Thanks,” he says to her.

  “If you’ll both just take a seat, we’ll be with you soon.”

  I follow Liam over to the seats, still stunned that he’s getting a tattoo. And that I have to choose what he gets.

  “So, whereabouts are you going to get the tattoo?” I ask him.

  “No fucking clue. I only decided about five minutes ago that I was getting one done.” He chuckles. “Where are you getting yours?”

  “Ass.”

  “Are you calling me one? Or is that where you’re putting the tattoo?”

  That has me laughing. “That’s where I’m putting it, silly.”

  “Then, that’s where I’ll have mine.”

  “You’re going to get your ass tattooed?” I can’t stop smiling and staring at him.

  “Yep.” He nods, a smile on his lips. Then, he looks at me, catching me still staring at him. “What?”

  “Nothing. I’m just surprised, is all.”

  “That I’m getting a tattoo?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And why does that surprise you?”

  “I don’t know. I guess it shouldn’t. It’s not like you’re afraid to do anything.”

  His eyes catch and hold mine, the look in them turning serious. “Boston, there are many things that I’m afraid of.”

  I don’t know why, but his words and the look on his face make my mouth dry.

  For a moment, I feel like his words are about me.

  That he’s afraid of me.

  “Which one of you is Taylor?” A huge bear of a man is walking toward us, a smile on his face. He’s got long hair tied back, a thick beard, and there isn’t an inch of his skin showing that isn’t tattooed—aside from his face, that is.

  “That would be me,” I say, getting to my feet.

  “Well, I’m Den, and I’ll be tattooing you both today.” Then, he says to Liam, “You’re welcome to come through and watch while I tattoo your girlfriend if you want. And then I’ll do yours right after.”

  I’m just about to correct him and tell him that I’m not Liam’s girlfriend when Liam stands up and says, “Works for me.”

  “So, what are you thinking of having done?” Den asks me.

  “Um…” I’m still trying to come around from the shock of being called Liam’s girlfriend.

  He’s never referred to me as that before. He’s always introduced me to people as his friend. But he didn’t correct Den.

  I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much. It’s not like it’s a big deal.

  But, for some reason, it feels like it is.

  “He’s picking my tattoo.” I throw my thumb toward Liam.

  Den stops by a door and opens it, giving me a look.

  “She’s picking mine,” Liam tells him as we walk into the tattooing room.

  “Ah, well, they’re your bodies, but I always say, choose wisely ’cause a tattoo is permanent—unless you want to go through the pain of having it removed.”

  I really don’t have to worry about that, Den. But thanks for the concern.

  “I’ve picked a good one for her. She’ll like it for sure.” Liam grins at me.

  “I trust you,” I tell him.

  His eyes meet mine. “I trust you, too.”

  “Right. Well, where are we tattooing?” Den asks me.

  “My ass,” I tell him.

  “And do you have a picture of what she’s having done?” he asks Liam.

  “Yeah.” Liam pulls his cell from his pocket and opens up something on the screen. Then, he hands the phone to Den.

  Den stares at the screen and then at Liam.

  “Trust me. She’ll love it.” Liam laughs softly, meeting my eyes.

  Honestly, I’m not even worried about what he’s picked for me. I’m just happy that something he chose is going to be on my body.

  “Right. Well, I’ll just go draw this up. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Den leaves the room.

  I sit up on the tattooing bed.

  “Are you nervous?” Liam asks, coming over to stand between my legs.

  “No. Are you?”

  “No.”

  “You got any idea what you’re going to pick for me?”

  “I do actually.” I smile.

  I so have the best idea for what to have tattooed on Liam. I just hope he gets the sentiment.

  “Am I going to like it?”

  I just smile big at him, and worry flickers in his eyes.

  “Don’t worry.” I pat his arm. “It’ll be awesome. I promise.”

  A few minutes later, Den reappears with a drawing in his hand. I turn away, as I want it to be a surprise.

  “Do you want to look at it before I do it?” Den asks me from behind.

  “Nope. I want the surprise,” I say more to Liam than Den.

  Liam smiles down at me.

  “I’ll take a look,” Liam tells Den, leaving me and walking over to him.

  They’re both quiet for a moment.

  Then, Liam says, “It’s perfect.”

  That has me smiling bigger.

  “Okay. Well, Taylor, get yourself lying on your front on the bed for me, and lower your leggings. Then, we’ll get started,” Den tells me.

  I do as he asked. Lying on my front, I shimmy my leggings down, exposing my ass. I had the foresight to wear leggings, as they’re stretchy and comfy for when I’ll have to pull them back up over the tattoo.

  Liam pulls up a chair, sitting beside my head.

  “Any preference on which side I do the tattoo?” Den asks.

  “Left butt cheek.” I don’t know why I say left. Probably because I’m left-
handed.

  “I’ll go left then, too.” Liam grins down at me. “Might as well match.”

  Den shaves the area on my left ass cheek. Then, I feel him rub something over the area. And the next thing I hear is the sound of the needle turning on.

  Liam looks over at the needle and then back to me. “You ready?” he says softly.

  “Yeah, I’m ready.”

  I feel the needle touch my skin, and—

  Holy fuck! That hurts!

  I reach out and grab Liam’s arm, squeezing hard.

  And the fucker laughs.

  “I don’t know what you’re laughing at,” I grumble at him through gritted teeth. “Because you’re next to have this bitch of a needle jabbing you in the ass.”

  “I can’t even begin to tell you how hot it is, seeing my name tattooed on your arse.” Liam’s deep voice ripples through my body.

  We’re back at his apartment, and I’m lying on my stomach on his bed. I’m wearing a T-shirt, and my lower half is bare while Liam is applying diaper cream to my tattoo—or nappy cream, as they call it here.

  Den said it’s the best thing to use on a tattoo to stop the skin from drying out.

  “I can’t believe you told him to tattoo your company logo on me,” I say into the pillow.

  Yeah, that’s right. I have the Hunter Airways logo tattooed on my butt.

  Liam said he could have gone for the Hunter Hotel or Hunter Finance logo, but he thought, as we’d met on the plane, it would be poetic.

  I’ve been complaining, but secretly, I love that he chose this.

  It’s like he’s left a part of himself on me—even though he’s already marked me in so many ways…my mind…my heart.

  He barks out a laugh. “Says the woman who had a map of Boston—with the word Boston and a heart written inside the map—tattooed on my arse.”

  I snort out a laugh and lift up onto my elbows as I smile back at him. “I thought it would be a nice way for you to remember me.”

  “I don’t need a tattoo to remember you, babe.”

  His words run through me like hot and cold water in my veins.

  Then, he says, “But did you have to put the heart in though?” He’s shaking his head with dismay.

  Well, the heart was my indirect way of telling him how I feel. That he has Boston’s heart…my heart.

  But, now, I feel bad. I guess I didn’t think it through properly.

  “I’m sorry.” I give him a regretful look.

  I might have been trying to give him my heart, but I forgot that he’s a guy. Guys don’t like hearts.

  He stares at me, his expression fiercely strong. “You don’t ever have to apologize to me.”

  I do. I really do.

  I bite my lip. “Will you have it removed?” I lay my head on my arm, but I’m still looking back at him.

  “The tattoo?” he asks, while he continues to gently smooth the cream over my tattoo.

  “Yes.”

  He frowns, like the thought is absurd to him. “No, because you put it there, theoretically speaking.” The frown deepens, forcing lines around his eyes. Then, I see his eyes flicker with a thought. “Will you have yours removed?”

  I firmly shake my head.

  Never.

  Even if I were going to be around for a long time, I still wouldn’t get it removed. Because it’s him.

  He smiles, and it warms my insides.

  I lay my head back, brushing my hair off my ear.

  Liam chuckles and says, “I can’t believe you got your ears pierced as well. Glutton for punishment.”

  I asked Den if he could pierce my ears after Liam’s tattoo was done. He had the time, so he did them.

  I know getting my ears pierced isn’t crazy or daring, like a nipple piercing would have been. But I never got to have my ears pierced when I was younger. My dad was strict about it and said I could get them done when I turned sixteen. Only the brain tumor happened, and I just never got around to having them pierced.

  I’ve rectified that now.

  “It just made sense.” I shrug. “I was there. They did piercings.”

  “Are your ears sore?”

  “A little. Not as bad as I expected. My ass, on the other hand…”

  “I hear ya. Call me a pussy, but that tattoo fucking hurt. Still does,” Liam says with a grumble in his voice.

  I look back at him again. “I didn’t know the word pussy was in your vocab, Hunter.”

  “Only your pussy.” He grins and then tosses the cream beside me on the bed. “My turn.”

  He moves from behind me and lies on his front on the bed.

  He’s already naked. Took his clothes off the moment we got back.

  Another thing I’m not complaining about. Naked Liam is an awesome sight.

  Picking up the cream, I get to my knees and straddle his thighs.

  He has the nicest ass. Tight and firm. Makes me want to bite it. But I won’t.

  I remove the cap, squeeze some cream out onto my fingers, and put the cap back on. I put the tube on the bed beside Liam, and I carefully start to apply it to his tattoo.

  He lets out a sound of relief.

  “Better?” I ask.

  “Much.”

  “I still can’t believe you got a tattoo.” I giggle.

  “The things I do for you,” he says, the words muffled into the pillow.

  Did he do this for me? I mean, I never asked him to. But I don’t think he means it in that way.

  But how does he mean it?

  I really don’t know how to ask. So, I don’t.

  I just start to hum a tune, and then I softly sing the words to the song that has been stuck in my head since I heard it in the car on the way back to his apartment after the tattooing was done—Justin Bieber’s “Sorry.”

  When I think about what that song is about, I realize that maybe there is a reason it’s stuck in my head.

  Because I am sorry. Sorry for every time I’ve lied to him. And how I still continue to do so.

  “Babe, you’re rubbing cream onto my arse and singing Bieber’s ‘Sorry.’ Really not sure how to feel about that.”

  And there he is, making me laugh again.

  I let my laughter die, and then I say softly, “Maybe I am sorry.”

  He looks back at me. I see confusion and a hint of worry in his eyes.

  “And what are you sorry for?”

  Everything.

  “The tattoo. The heart. I should’ve thought about it.”

  His brows pull together. “I told you, don’t ever be sorry to me. And, yeah, the heart is a little chick-ish, but it’s not like many people are going to see it.”

  Just other women after I’m gone.

  Bile rises. I swallow it back.

  “The only people I need to be worried about seeing this are Cam and Eddie ’cause those bastards would dine out on this for years. It’d be the new Backstreet Boys. And no way will those fuckers be seeing my arse anytime soon, so nothing to worry about, babe.”

  He gives me an encouraging smile.

  I try to return it.

  I finish applying the cream, and then I give his non-tattooed ass cheek a slap. “All done.”

  I move off of him and lie on the bed beside him with my hands under my head, my face turned his way.

  Liam moves his face on the pillow, so he’s looking at me.

  “What do you want to do for the rest of the day?” he asks. “But, before you answer, I do have a stipulation. I will do whatever you want, so long as it doesn’t require me sitting on my arse.”

  A small laugh escapes me. “I’m happy right here.”

  His gaze softens. “Yeah, me, too.”

  We’re staring at each other, no words passing between us, and the moment is perfect.

  And then I have to go and spoil it by saying, “Hunter…can I ask about…Kate?”

  His face immediately closes up, shutting me out.

  Why did I have to ask that?

  Because it’
s been bugging me ever since I saw her picture and his reaction to it. And the fact that she was his fiancée.

  He had a fiancée. I think that’s a big deal. Well, it is to me anyway, and I want to know what happened between them. Because, whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

  He turns his face into the pillow. I can hear him breathing deeply.

  “I’m not trying to upset you,” I say gently. “I was just—”

  “Curious.” He turns his face back to me. His expression is hard.

  “Yeah,” I exhale.

  And he does, too. But the breath he lets out is far more pronounced than mine.

  “The night you got sick at my grandpa’s house, after you had seen the picture, I came into the bathroom to apologize for my behavior. I just didn’t get a chance.” His eyes focus on mine. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.”

  “I’m sure you had your reasons.”

  He lifts a shoulder. “Even still, I acted like a prick, and you of all people don’t deserve to be treated that way.”

  But I do, Hunter. I deserve so much more than you acting like a prick. I deserve your anger and your disdain.

  He closes his eyes.

  I think that’s the end of the conversation. He doesn’t want to talk about Kate, and that’s his right. I’m not exactly forthcoming in things that have to do with me.

  I haven’t exactly told him about my family’s deaths.

  And how it was my fault.

  I press my hand to his cheek to let him know it’s okay that he doesn’t want to talk. His growing stubble under my palm is rough and ticklish.

  “I met Kate in my first year of university.”

  He opens his eyes, and I move my hand away.

  “We were taking a few of the same classes. We got to talking. She was smart and beautiful and popular.”

  Liam’s Knife, meet Taylor’s Heart.

  I try to keep my expression straight. Not easy when a blade is being twisted inside my chest.

  He doesn’t seem to notice though, and he just keeps on talking, “Yeah, I was a Hunter, but all the way through school—after I’d left my old school and started Eton where Grandpa wanted me to go—I wasn’t the Hunter my grandpa was—or even my father, for that matter. Instead, I was the bastard child of Charles Hunter, a man who didn’t want me. And my mother was a druggie stripper, who was stabbed to death by her boyfriend. To say that school was tough would be putting it mildly. Sure, I had Cam and Eddie…and even Jeremy.” He sighs. “But that didn’t change who I was.