I must’ve gone through five or six books before I realized I wasn’t alone.
I looked up from the book I was reading to see Michael leaning against the doorframe, watching me.
“Hey,” I said, surveying him.
He looked better than he had before.
His white t-shirt stood out starkly against his tattooed skin.
I’d never seen his arms bare before, now that I thought about it.
“Hey,” he said carefully. “I was just bringing him some of his things…you know, so he wouldn’t be alone.”
“That was nice of you,” I whispered softly. “Come in.”
He did, albeit a little reluctantly.
When I noticed, I stood, offering him the chair.
“It’s about time I went anyway. I just wanted to come check on him, see how he was doing,” I whispered softly.
Michael, who’d been surveying the boy, looked up.
His beautiful eyes pierced me straight through every time he gave me the full force of them.
“You don’t have to go,” he said softly. “I’m not staying long. I have to go.”
Wasn’t he being nice?
You see, Michael and I had a long history.
Well, it was more like four months total of history, but that history was enough to last a lifetime.
I patted him on the forearm, a little bit of smartass filling my tone. “Well, then I guess you can walk me out.”
After placing a kiss to the tips of my fingertips, I pressed it against the boy’s hand and looked at him longingly.
How could someone ever shoot their own child?
What kind of monster was capable of that?
Saying a silent prayer, I walked out of the room, very aware of Michael watching me the entire way.
I’d convinced myself he wasn’t going to follow me, but the moment I walked into the elevator, the doors closed, and he was there.
Ninja much?
“You like kids,” he muttered, settling himself in the corner of the elevator by the numbers.
A statement, not a question.
One he knew the answer to already, seeing as that’d been the thing that’d drawn our relationship to a sudden rocking halt.
***
Eighteen months ago
Nervously, I looked into the mirror and inspected my attire.
Today would be my eighteenth date with Michael, and I felt that it was the one.
The one that would change everything.
Today would be the day that I gave myself to him.
Lock, stock, and barrel.
We’d only been dating for a little over four months, but it was enough.
I would be breaking my rule of twenty dates before I slept with him, but that was only because I knew.
I knew I was about to sleep with the man I intended to marry.
A knock sounded at the door, and I hurried through my room to my front entranceway, and threw open the door.
Michael was standing there, long-sleeved button-down shirt, as always, and a smile on his face.
“You look beautiful,” he breathed.
I smiled at him and opened my door.
“I made your favorite,” I told him as he walked through.
I’d found over the last four months that Michael had a love for Mexican food. A great love for it.
And he really liked home-cooked Mexican food.
I’d gone through my mother’s entire cookbook making him food and, over time, we’d discovered that his favorite was one of the most simple.
Fajitas, rice, and beans.
“Score!” Michael said as he made his way through the living room and headed straight toward the kitchen.
“The rice and beans are done. The only thing I’m waiting on is for you to grill the meat,” I informed him.
He turned around and grinned, pinning me to the spot with those baby blues of his.
“So we have time,” he murmured, “for me to do this?”
Then his body crowded mine against the counter, and I forgot how to breathe.
“Do what?” I asked breathlessly.
He chuckled, then his mouth was on mine.
He tasted like heaven, mint with a hint of the Dr. Pepper he’d just finished drinking.
My hands went underneath his shirt as I said, “I’m ready.”
He blinked, then abruptly circled his arms around my lower legs, and lifted me off my feet.
“Jesus,” he breathed, turning around and walking quickly to my bedroom.
He didn’t bother with the lights, only laid me down on the bed before following me down.
“Are you sure? Because I’m about to lose control here, and I don’t want you to regret anything. Regret me,” he whispered.
In answer, I started stripping his shirt from his body and then started working on his pants.
He lifted up and resumed his own disrobing, allowing me to shimmy my dress up and over my head.
All my careful planning for the night that included my outfit, down to the straightness of my hair, was out the window once his naked body pressed against mine.
“I’m so sure I can’t even stand it,” I told him, widening my legs to allow his hips to slip between them.
He growled against my mouth, hand moving up to cup my breast.
“Good,” he rasped, moving up to his knees.
When I heard the sound of a package ripping open, I stopped him.
“I’m on the pill,” I breathed, arching up to him. “And I’m clean.”
He continued rolling on the condom. “I’m clean, too. But I always wear a condom. No matter what. Less chance of having kids that way.”
I nodded, slightly upset that I’d wasted all that money going on birth control when he wasn’t even going to utilize the benefits of it.
Then I was filled completely with him, and I forgot to be disappointed.
Because he was anything but disappointing.
***
That next day, in my brother’s kitchen, had been the showdown that had ended our relationship.
I wanted kids. He didn’t.
Well, that wasn’t exactly what he’d said. More like he wanted kids… just not with me.
That simple.
“You… would… would you be willing to adopt?” he asked softly.
I blinked.
“What?” I asked in surprise.
He looked down at his hands, inspecting his fingers as he said, “Would you be willing to adopt? Or have kids that weren’t mine? Maybe by a sperm bank or something.”
I considered that for a moment, letting what he was saying sink in.
“Are you asking me if I’d be willing to adopt a child and still be with you?” I confirmed.
He finally looked up at me, and my breath caught.
His pupils were dilated, and I was fairly positive it wasn’t because he was on drugs.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“I miss you.”
Three simple words that had the power to defeat me.
“Michael, us breaking up… it wasn’t over something minor. It was huge. Pivotal. But it wasn’t even just the fact that you said you didn’t want kids with me. It was the fact that you were so final about it. You wouldn’t talk to me. You wouldn’t share your feelings with me. Hell, you fucked me with your t-shirt on, and wouldn’t let me in! Then you just shut down and didn’t even explain,” I said fiercely.
He let all that he was feeling seep into two words. “I’m sorry.”
I just shook my head. “It’s going to take a lot more than just ‘sorry’ to make everything alright.”
“Will you… will you come with me? Somewhere? I want to show you something,” he said softly.
“I have to go to a meeting tomorrow at eight. I can’t stay out late,” I tried.
He shook his head. “I’ll keep you there as long as you want to be
there. The minute you want to go home, I’ll take you.”
“My car’s here,” I countered.
“I’ll drive you back up here in the morning,” he said pleadingly.
I looked at him for a long while before I came to my decision.
“Fine. Just… don’t hurt me again, Michael. It hurt enough the first time to last me a thousand lifetimes. I don’t think I could survive it a second time,” I whispered hoarsely. “Promise me.”
He made a sound in his throat that hurt my heart, but I didn’t relent.
I watched him and waited for him to promise me and promise me he did.
“I swear on my life that I will never intentionally hurt you again. I promise.”
Chapter 5
Life’s a bitch. Oh, no. Wait, that’s you. My mistake.
-Secret thoughts of Nikki Pena.
Michael
“This is my favorite place in the world,” I admitted softly as I pulled my truck up into the front row parking spot of Peek’s Tattoo Parlor.
“It’s a tattoo parlor,” she said in surprise.
I tossed her a grin as I opened the door to my truck and dropped out.
I didn’t know what the fuck I was thinking.
All I know was that this day had been complete shit, and I’d had to do a lot of thinking. Something I’d been avoiding doing for quite a long time now.
Nearly a year and a half to be exact.
From the moment that I let Nikki misunderstand why I didn’t want kids, I knew I’d made a terrible mistake. But, at the time, I thought I’d been doing a good thing.
She would have a terrible life if she stayed with me, and there was no one on earth that I’d want to have to deal with my shit.
But then I’d held that boy, while his lifeblood drained onto my chest, and I knew that I couldn’t deny it anymore.
I loved her. And I’d do anything to have her. Even have a child with her if that was what it took.
I was tired of being lonely.
And when I walked in on her reading to the baby, I knew I’d make her mine again.
No matter what it took.
It all started with letting her into my world. Letting her see me. And that started here.
“So, I guess I need to start by telling you why I do the tattoos,” I started, swallowing convulsively before I flayed myself open. “When I was twelve, I started cutting myself.”
She gasped in surprise and whipped around to stare at me.
I put the tailgate of my truck down, and hopped up, holding out my hand to her.
She took it, no reluctance whatsoever, and that bolstered me to say what I had to say next.
She came in between my legs and leaned into me, looking up at me with her heart in her eyes.
I leaned my head against hers for a long moment before pulling back and looking up at the stars.
“That was the first time my parents realized something was wrong with me. I didn’t try to kill myself, per se, I just knew that something was wrong, and pain made it feel better,” I explained, not looking down into her eyes. “That was when I was diagnosed with depression. Three weeks after that, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Bipolar two, to be exact. By the time I was fourteen, I was diagnosed with ADHD and ADD. Right now I’m on medication for my bipolar disorder and ADHD since they believe that those are the two causing the other two conditions.”
When I finally got the courage to look down at her, it wasn’t horror that I saw, but understanding.
So I felt like I should continue.
“Surprisingly, none of that affected my schooling. The manic side of my bipolar disorder kept me from falling behind with the other things affecting me. I always strove to be the best. The depression kicked in when I wasn’t the best,” I explained.
“My youngest sister is bipolar,” she said, surprising the fuck out of me enough to look down at her again.
And the understanding in her eyes about killed me once again.
“When I turned eighteen, I got a job in a tattoo shop to help fund my schooling. My parents paid for nearly all of it, I only had to cover the books,” I explained. “That’s when I found that the pain of the needle fed that need for pain in less destructive ways, and I haven’t looked back since.”
“Schooling? I thought you were in the Navy,” she said.
I curled a sliver of her hair that’d fallen free of her bun behind her ear, cupping her neck once I did.
“I went to school for my medical degree when I was seventeen. Graduated with that when I was twenty-five. Joined the Navy when I was twenty-three, while finishing that up. Then realized that I hated being a doctor, so I just… quit.”
I knew what the next thing out of her mouth would be before she even said it.
“And what made you not want to be a doctor anymore? Seems like a lot of schooling on your part for you to just give it up,” she whispered, laying her head against my chest and looping her arms around my waist.
I held my breath and tried to hold the pain in, yet it didn’t want to be held anymore.
“I witnessed an abortion that changed the course of my life and also ruined me for the medical field,” I said woodenly. “If someone could just kill an unborn child in that way, one that had fingers and toes, and clearly defined features, then how could they say they were an upholder for human life? Wasn’t what they were doing the exact opposite?”
“Oh, Michael,” Nikki breathed. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
I knew Nikki was catholic.
She went to church religiously every Sunday.
In fact, as a way to get closer to her, I’d started going to conversion classes, and attending Sunday mass at the very church that she went to just so I could bridge some of the gap between her and me.
The fact that abortion would never be uttered from her lips really held great appeal to me.
Because abortion had been a determining factor in how I’d live my life from the moment I turned twenty-three.
Even now, twelve years later, I can still remember what that baby looked like.
I looked at it every day in the mirror.
“It’s gory. And not a good story,” I warned her.
She pressed farther into my arms and said what I needed to hear. “Tell me.”
So I did.
“I was asked if I wanted to, and since I’d never witnessed one before, I thought ‘sure, why not.’ Well, the why not became a ‘what the hell have I done’ pretty fuckin’ quickly. I’d heard about abortions during one of the many lectures. Knew the basics of it. So I go in there, and there’s this woman already on the table with her legs high and wide in the air.” I cleared my throat. “She was asleep, and it was then I realized that the baby they were doing the abortion on was a viable fetus, but the mother just didn’t want her.”
“I watched as they hooked the vacuum up, maneuvered the small hose up her vagina, and started to suck away.” I coughed. “Instantly, there was blood, and that’s about when I turned around and refused to watch anymore. I’d just witnessed a child murdered right in front of my eyes.”
“God,” she breathed, a sob catching in her throat.
“That was the first tattoo I got,” I said, grabbing her hand with my own and moving it to rest over my heart. “That’s when I met Peek.”
She moved away, placing distance that I didn’t want between us, and held out her hand. “Show me your Peek.”
And that’s what I did.
Hopping off the truck’s tailgate, I made my way inside, hand in hand, with Nikki.
The first person to greet us at the front counter was Alison, the woman that’d been working the front desk for as long as I could remember.
She was also Peek’s old lady.
Peek was a member of an unofficial motorcycle club, and one of the grumpiest men in the entire world.
Yet, he respected a man who could speak his language. And Peek’s lang
uage was the art of tattoos, and I had a lot of tattoos.
“Mikey!” Alison said happily. “You ready to get that blank spot on your back filled in?”
Before I could answer, Nikki spoke up.
“Actually, he’s bringing me here to get my first tattoo!” Nikki said excitedly, as if we’d actually planned for that to happen.
When I went to say something, she placed her hand over my mouth and shook her head.
“Really? Mikey’s never brought anyone here before! I’m so excited to meet you! You’re Nikki, right?” Alison asked with a happy laugh.
Nikki turned curious eyes to me before returning her attention to Alison.
“Yeah, I’m Nikki. I hope you’ve heard good things,” she said honestly.
I knew I should stop this before it went any further, but I decided to let it be. What was said was said, and I didn’t have anything to hide.
Nikki would find out soon enough what I’d done even without Alison’s help.
Alison smiled. “Oh yeah. Michael told us all about you when Peek was doing the piece on his back.”
Nikki blinked and turned to me, but Alison didn’t notice. She was too busy going on and on about all that I’d said that night a year and a half ago.
The night I’d been drunk out of my mind.
“What’d you do?” she asked warily.
I shrugged and turned around, giving her my back.
“Right above my belt,” I told her.
Slowly I felt my shirt lifted, and then she gasped.
I knew what she saw.
It was kind of hard to miss.
“You have my name tattooed on your ass!” she squealed.
I snorted and turned around, giving her a dry look.
“It’s on my waist, not my ass. I don’t have anything on my ass. I can always get one if you want,” I offered suggestively.
She wiggled her fingers at me.
“Turn back around,” she said. “I wasn’t done looking.”
I did as I was told, and felt her tracing the letters of her name that was inked into my flesh with her fingers.
“Why?” she asked softly.
I shrugged.
“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” I said lamely.
She laughed, making my heart soar.
“I’ve heard of women putting their man’s name right there, so he can, ya know, see it when he does her from, ya know, behind. But I’ve never seen a man do it,” she tittered.
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