Tattoos & Tears (Complete Collection)

by Amiee Louise

  “Whoa! Where are you going in such a hurry?”

  That’s when the tears come, and I break down. I sob harder than I have in a long time and it feels good to finally let it all out. Remy pulls me close to him and envelopes me in his arms.

  “Let it go, beaut,” he soothes in his soft voice, which has become familiar to me in the time I have known him.

  I cling to him for dear life, because I have no idea how I’m going to make it right. It’s all such a fucking mess.

  21

  Sam

  I step out of the hospital room after her, and my shoulder screams in protest. I feel like such a fucking tit in this hospital gown. I need Cole to arrange a change of clothes for me. As I step further out of the room, I see a guy with long dark hair, who seems to be a little overly familiar with Peyton. He has his arms around her, and he is whispering softly to her while rubbing his hands up and down her back pacifyingly. She is sobbing, and I know I don't really have a right, but all I can think is that it should be me. I need to feel her in my arms again; it’s been so fucking long. I am aching to hold her, to let her know that contrary to what she might think, I don’t hate her. I’m aching to tell her that there still could be a chance for us. I clench my fists at my side and try to rein in the overwhelming sense of jealousy that’s clouding my judgement. I clear my throat, and she jumps back from his embrace, like a deer caught in headlights. Her sad, watery, blue eyes lock with mine and my heart slams against my rib cage.

  “Peyton, can we finish our conversation, please? I wasn't done talking,” I ask graciously, and she nods reluctantly.

  She smiles warmly at the guy, who I am beginning to hate more with every passing fucking second. Get your hands off my girl, motherfucker.

  “I’m on my mobile if you need me, beaut. I'll go get the little guy, and I’ll come pick you up in a little while. Call me if you need anything at all?”

  He winks and kisses her forehead. She nods. I gesture for her to go in ahead of me and she steps back into the room. I follow her, close the door behind me and hop carefully back up onto the bed. I nod for her to take a seat in the vacant chair next to my bed; she sits down half-heartedly, and I regard her with narrow eyes.

  “So, what’s the deal with you and the long-haired lover?” I say a little too abruptly.

  He folds her arms defensively and presses her lips into a thin line.

  “Are you fucking him?” I blurt out, and she winces at my crass question.

  “So, what if I am? It’s none of your fucking business, Sam; you don’t get to act like the jealous lover because I’m no longer yours. You’ve made that abundantly fucking clear.”

  Her tone is harsh, and my heart clenches at her phrase. Her reaction to my question wasn’t what I was expecting, and I see the shutters come down on her blue eyes once again.

  “You never fucking stopped being mine, angel,” I say softly.

  She takes a deep, shaky breath and looks up at me.

  “Please stop calling me angel.”

  Her voice is small, and I frown as a tear slips down her cheek. She shakes her head.

  “Please, Sam I don’t deserve it. I lost that right when I made you think I was dead, I can’t bear to see you look at me like...like.”

  She sobs softly, and I reach out to tip her chin up.

  “Look at me, like what?”

  She looks up at me, and that only makes her sob harder. Hearing her sob like that completely tears me apart and I can’t fucking bear it.

  “Like you hate me...like...you c...can’t bear to touch me or even be near me.”

  She manages to choke out, and I swing my legs off the bed, ignoring the burning sensation ripping through my shoulder. I move closer to her and cup her face in my hands.

  “Listen to me, angel, I could never hate you. Jesus fucking Christ, I’m struggling not to wrap you in my arms and carry you out of here. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by that I haven’t wished, and even though I'm not remotely religious, I fucking prayed for this moment to come. I’ve dreamt of holding you, kissing you.”

  I get off the bed, ignoring the pain. I crouch down in front of her, and I softly touch her cheek with my bandaged hand.

  “God...you’re even more fucking beautiful than I remember.”

  She leans into my touch and closes her eyes.

  “I’ve never stopped loving you, angel, never. You were always in here.”

  I place her hand over my thundering heartbeat. Her tiny, trembling hand feels warm against my chest, and I relish her touch. As silence descends on us, neither of us knows what to say to the other. I hold her gaze and run her silky hair through my fingers, swiftly but subtly changing the subject.

  “I like your hair. I love the colour, it really suits you, angel.”

  I smile; she returns my smile, and somewhere in those beautiful blue eyes, I see a glimpse of the woman I fell in love with.

  “In answer to your question, no I’m not fucking him; Remy is Ruby’s older brother, and he’s...just been a really good friend to me.”

  I smile a genuine smile, and my shoulders sag with relief at hearing her say those words.

  “He was there...when I really needed a friend. I was so alone; all I wanted was to get on a plane back to London, let myself into your apartment and snuggle up in bed next to you.”

  The truth is after she ‘died’ I couldn’t bear to be in the apartment without being reminded of her everywhere I went. Every room had a memory of her in it. So, I sold the building to a billionaire CEO called Nolan Wilder, who was looking to set roots down in London. I moved out to Sawbridgeworth in Hertfordshire, just over nine months ago, to get out of the rat race that is London. As a condition of his release from rehab, Brody lives with me too. He has his own wing of the house, and the arrangement suits us both. It has become a sanctuary for us, and it is the epitome of the phrase ‘bachelor pad’, with our own cinema room, game room, pool table, swimming pool, and hot tub.

  “The bloke who lives there now would have had a shock if you had crawled into bed with him! I don’t live in the apartment anymore, angel.”

  I say with an amused tone to my voice and her eyes widen.

  “You loved that place.”

  I smile at her sentiment and shrug nonchalantly.

  “It’s just bricks and mortar, babe; just four walls and a roof. I sold up and moved into a nine-bedroom mansion in Hertfordshire with Brody. Everywhere I went in that apartment, I saw you: in the bedroom, in the bathroom, in the studio, on the balcony, in the kitchen. Fuck, your ghost literally haunted me for months, so I had to leave. I had no other choice. I tried so hard, but I couldn’t fucking bear it, I had to for my own sanity.”

  I shake my head to rid myself of the thoughts of the dark place I ended up in after her death. My heartbeat quickens, and she looks at me questioningly.

  “I know I don’t have the right, but there’s something you’re not telling me, Sam Newbolt.”

  She narrows her eyes and I smile. My smart girl.

  “No getting anything past you is there?”

  Her shy smile reminds me of the day we met, the way she looked at me, the sly glances and the way her hands felt on me as she was tattooing me.

  22

  Sam - The Day They Met

  I’ve been on the leather bed being tattooed by her for over an hour. Every time her hands make contact with my skin, I feel like I am on fucking fire. She feels it too, I know she does. I know I should just stop fucking about and ask her out. Usually, I wouldn’t hesitate, but she’s turned me into a fucking pussy within the matter of a couple of hours. The doorbell of the shop chimes to signal someone entering, and I look up. Peyton stops tattooing me, and she looks up at the same time. A tall, leggy, olive-skinned, brunette walks in, her heels clicking across the floor. She has bought coffee, and she comes closer to us as she greets Peyton.

  “Hey, sweetie.”

  She smiles; she’s gorgeous, but not as gorgeous as the girl in front of me.r />
  “Hey, babe.”

  My body feels bereft as she moves her hands away from me. She kisses Peyton on the cheek.

  “I bought you some coffee; I thought you could do with a break.”

  Peyton takes the coffee from her friend, takes off the lid and sips the steaming liquid. Her shoulders visibly relax, but I’m too enamoured by this beautiful creature to notice anything else going on around me. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. I swing my leg off the bed and lean down close to her.

  “Can I get a sip of that please, darlin’. I’m spitting feathers,” I boldly ask her, fully expecting her to say no.

  She politely offers me the cup, and I take a long sip of the warm liquid. It is way too sweet for me, but it fits her perfectly.

  “Thanks, babe.”

  I wink and flash her a dimpled grin. Nicely done, you fucking smoothie you! Go in for the kill, Newbolt, just ask her. What’s the worst that can happen?

  “Do you fancy coming out with me when you’re done? Maybe I could take you to dinner? I can be very persuasive,” I rasp, and she bites her lower lip.

  Fuck me, that was easily the most erotic thing I have ever seen, and my cock instantly comes to life. Easy fella!

  “Are you fucking with me?”

  She lowers her voice, and my face turns deadly serious. How can she possibly think I’m joking? How can she not know how beautiful she is?

  “I never fuck about when it comes to a beautiful woman, babe.”

  She seems to think about my answer, and she pauses for a few seconds, giving me time to actually take her in. Her blue eyes are captivating. They say eyes are the windows to the soul, and I can sense that she’s been hurt in the past. I’ve seen that look before.

  “Sorry, I don’t date arrogant, cocky rockers, it’s not my style,” she quips, and I smile.

  So that’s the way she’s going to play it? Game on, sweetheart.

  “Playing hard to get, ok I can deal with that,” I say in my calmest voice.

  I get back up on the bed, and she continues tattooing me as if nothing has happened. My body is rejoicing at feeling her hands on me once more. It has been such a long time since I have had a proper relationship, but there is something about this woman that makes me want to try. Engage her in conversation Newbolt; show her you’re just a normal, regular guy.

  “So, how long have you worked here?”

  Is that all you’ve got? Fucking pathetic, totally lame, must try harder.

  She sighs.

  “Are we really going to do this? The small talk, like you’re really interested in a girl like me.”

  I frown, and I want to physically hurt the guy that hurt her in the past to make her doubt herself so badly.

  “Just because you see my life splashed all over the tabloids, doesn’t mean you get to judge me. I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t genuinely interested, babe, seriously.”

  I roll my eyes, and I’m actually hurt. All I want is for her to just give me a chance to show her I’m not the bad boy rocker the newspapers make me out to be.

  “I’m sorry, it’s just...”

  I stop her. Try again dude, second times a charm.

  “Come out with me, please.”

  She shakes her head.

  “I’m not going to be subjected to fangirls swooning over you, interrupting us for photos and autographs at every available opportunity.”

  I laugh mischievously, and it seems to disarm her momentarily. She’s actually jealous; keep going you’ll break down her defences eventually.

  “Is that jealousy I sense?”

  She rolls her eyes, and I smirk wickedly.

  “Why would I be jealous, I hardly know you?”

  Keep denying it, darlin’, I’ve got all day. I bite my lip piercing seductively, as my eyes lock with hers.

  “Green is a colour that definitely suits you, babe,” I say in my husky tone and her neck muscles contract. She’s so fucking affected by me.

  “You seem to have forgotten my name again, you keep calling me babe. It’s ok, my name is Peyton. Do you need me to spell it for you? It begins with a P.”

  Whoa! I was definitely not expecting that! I hear snickers from the boys across the shop. I’m glad my predicament is amusing, you bunch of fuckers.

  “Stop busting his balls, babe and give the guy a chance.”

  I look across the shop at her friend; she seems to be sticking up for me.

  “It seems you’ve forgotten her name too, sweetheart.”

  I banter back, and she cocks her perfectly groomed eyebrow at me.

  “Oh yeah, silly me, my mistake. I’m sorry Peyton.”

  She emphasises her name, accentuating the ‘P’ and narrows her eyes at Peyton. I smile.

  “Are you usually like this around other guys, or is it just me?”

  I am curious to know, and she seems stunned into silence. I think she might have met her match with me, because the way she’s looking at me, tells me she isn’t used to being called out on her behaviour.

  “Wow, no wonder you’re single, assuming you are single? God help the guy if he puts up with you, Miss High Maintenance. He must have the patience of a saint,” I say sarcastically, and I didn’t mean for that to come out as harsh as it did.

  Shit! Nice one Newbolt, dick move. Engage your brain, before you engage your extremely large fucking mouth. She stops tattooing me and slams her tattoo machine down on the table with a clatter. She rips off her gloves, and she can’t even bring herself to look at me. Fucking fuck!

  “I’m taking a break,” she snaps and storms to the back of the shop.

  I instantly feel bad for making her feel that way. She probably thinks I’m exactly like the rest of the male population and she’s never going to agree to go out with me now. I’m such a fucking dickhead. Her friend casually walks over to me, and I feel instantly calmed by the smell of her perfume. How do women do that? She brushes my arm, in an affectionate gesture. Her big brown eyes look up at me, and she smiles warmly. She definitely doesn’t make my dick twitch like Peyton does. That’s a good thing...I think!

  “Don’t worry, babe, she’s not usually like that. I think it’s her way of letting you know she likes you, it’s sort of…a defence mechanism.”

  She explains as I smile and nod.

  “She’s been hurt badly in the past, it’s not you, she’s just overly cautious when it comes to men in general, that’s all. Don’t take it personally, babe.”

  She beams, and as she says those words, I immediately want to bury the guy who hurt her so badly.

  “I’m Ruby, by the way.”

  She offers me her hand, and I take it. I don’t get the electricity as she touches me, Peyton is definitely something special.

  “Sam,” I introduce myself in an amused tone, and she nods.

  “I know who you are, I’m a huge fan.”

  She giggles nervously, and instead of her giggling being annoying, I find it endearing. I throw my head back and laugh. Her eyes roam to the other end of the shop and stop on Jax. She’s definitely hot for him, and by the way, he’s eye-fucking her. The feeling is definitely more than reciprocated.

  “I could put in a word with Jax, if you like? You did me a favour by trying to stand up for me back there; it’s a fair trade I’d say.”

  She smiles shyly and nods. She leans in, as if she is sharing a secret with me, and whispers in my ear.

  “She loves Italian food, and her favourite dish is chicken, bacon, and mushroom Alfredo, hold the parmesan. Just don’t tell her I told you.”

  I laugh and wink cheekily at her.

  “Thanks for the tip, sweetheart, I really appreciate it.”

  I instantly like her, something about her tells me that she is more of a sister to Peyton than a friend.

  “I like you, now get after her, hot stuff!”

  She winks and struts off across the shop towards Jax. I stand up and walk with purpose to the back of the shop. I have to make it right with her; she m
akes me feel things I haven’t felt in a long time. I hang back, watching her wage an internal war with herself. Even in profile she’s beautiful. She’s short, but perfectly in proportion. Her button nose, her soft plump lips, her huge breasts, her flat stomach, and her gorgeous arse. I’ve got it so bad. I move closer to her, and she lowers her head as if she senses my presence. I tower over her small frame and lean casually in the doorway. Don’t grovel, be cool.