“Yep. What about you?” he smirks, bumping my shoulder with his.
“I’m not getting one,” I sigh.
“Right,” he scoffs, “but you said you’ve been thinking about getting one for years. Haven’t you ever thought about what you’d get?”
Shrugging, I chew on my bottom lip, flipping through all the different images of butterflies, hearts, and flowers. There are cartoon characters, song quotes, and people with matching tattoos. It’s not that I think there’s anything wrong with any of these, I just feel if you are going to put something permanently on your body, it should mean something.
“Well, sure. I guess I’ve thought about it, but I’ve never decided on anything. I know I would want it be something meaningful. I mean, it’s forever.”
“Yeah, just don’t go getting someone’s name put on you. Look how badly that turned out for poor Johnny Depp. He’ll be a wino forever.”
I laugh as all the tension I felt from being here, and just being with him in general, begins to melt away. I love that he’s always able to make me feel at ease.
Wait...love?
My laughter quickly dies as a knot forms in the pit of my stomach. Feeling lightheaded, I grasp onto the counter for support.
“What’s wrong? You look like you might be sick all of a sudden,” he says, leaning forward so he can see my face. “You aren’t afraid of needles, are you?”
“No.” Shaking my head, I take a step back from the counter to create more space between us. “Not that it matters, since I’m. Not. Getting. A. Tattoo.”
Laughing, he turns and positions himself between me and the counter, putting him far too close to me again. Regarding me with a tilted head, he leans back. “You look a little flush.” He reaches out to brush his fingers across my cheek, causing more heat to rise as my heart flutters. “I just want to be sure you aren’t going to pass out on me back there.”
“What? You want me to—” I rasp, pointing toward the back where the rooms are.
“Of course,” he chuckles. “What sense does it make to have you here with me if you’re waiting out here?”
Tension mounts in my body again as I shake my head in protest. My mind wanders to the possible body parts he may need to reveal during this process, causing sweat to pool at the small of my back and my breath to catch. I’m damn near ready to pass out.
Before I can even form words, a large tattooed man with several piercings in his face calls Brenden’s name, and he grabs my arm, pulling me with him.
My heart pounds as we make our way down the narrow hallway, the buzzing sounds from the tattoo guns vibrating through me. We follow the tattooed man into the last door on the right and he introduces himself as Kyle. Brenden shakes his hand before telling him my name and I give him a tight smile. Remaining speechless, I take a seat where directed by Kyle as Brenden begins taking his shirt off.
I am vaguely aware of the conversation between them, but it’s drowned out by my rapidly beating heart. All the muscles in his stomach and back do a delicious little dance as he pulls it over his head. My eyes bulge and abdomen quakes. I try to close my mouth and school my features as he turns to hand me his shirt, but his knowing smile tells me I failed.
Still staring as he takes his seat in the parlor chair, my eyes roam, and that’s when I see them—several scars scattered across his chest. My eyes instinctively shoot up to meet his. The marks look serious, as if they could have been life threatening, and it makes my heart clench. I’m met with a smile, but it’s not his normal charismatic smile. There is something else in his eyes—something I’ve never seen before. Sorrow?
Is this your mud vein, Brenden?
I feel sick to my stomach as a sadness washes over me and my hands begin to shake, thinking of what, or who, could have done this to him, or if he had, in fact, nearly died. The possibility leaves me breathless. Brenden reaches over to take my hand and a familiar warmth only caused by him courses through me.
“Is your girl going to be okay, dude?” Kyle laughs as the gun begins to hum.
“I’m not his girl,” I protest, shaking my head as I pull my hand from his.
Brenden scoffs, “Yep. She’s good.”
“You think you’re better than me, don’t you, you little shit?” my father asks, stumbling over his feet and slurring his words as I coax him out of the bar. “You’re not better than me, you’re just a worthless piece of shit. That’s all you’ve ever been, and that’s all you’ll ever be.”
This isn’t the first time I’ve heard this speech from him. He’s been telling me how much he hates me nearly every day since the day I was born—sometimes with words and sometimes with a blow of his fist. You would think it would be something you can build a tolerance to, but it still stings after all these years. If I had any sense, I would have cut him out of my life a long time ago, but I guess I’m a little bit of a masochist.
“Well, Dad, we can’t all be as successful in life as you,” I respond through gritted teeth.
“You shut your fucking smart mouth,” he yells, taking a swing at me. I easily block him, but it still gains the attention of everyone in the bar. Though I’ve been bigger and stronger than him since I was fifteen, he’s never stopped trying to prove his dominance over me. “You can’t talk to me like that, boy.” He swings at me again, and I move out of his way, causing him to stumble and fall into a nearby table.
There’s so much commotion in the bar now with people coming to their feet and things crashing to the floor. Before I know it, he’s coming at me again, only this time, I’m not quick enough to move out of his way. “You’re going to learn some respect, you little fucker,” he hisses as I feel the sharp bite of metal in my chest. With everything moving in slow motion, I look down to see him pull the knife out and plunge it back in. My mind tells me to move or fight him off, but my body is frozen in shock, allowing him to continue his assault as my vision goes black and I fall to the ground.
“We’re all done, man,” Kyle says as the buzzing gun goes quiet. “You wanna take a look?” I nod and he hands me a mirror. He’s done a great job. It’s exactly as I described, but I’m feeling too raw with emotion to tell him that. I can only nod my head again as I hand him back the mirror.
“So, what does it mean?” Lizzy asks, inspecting the little black symbol over the worst scar on my chest and the date I received it in roman numerals just below that. It’s the one that nearly took my life. If it had been just a little more to the left, things would have gone much differently.
The look in her eyes when she saw my scars earlier nearly slayed me. I could see and feel it all: her sadness, fear, compassion. It was overwhelming, and a part of me regretted my decision to share this moment with her.
“Embrace life,” I answer, struggling to speak around the lump in my throat.
It’s strange how the worst day of your life can become the very thing that changes it for the better. The way I see it, you can choose to let the darkness in your life consume you, or you can banish it with the light. I choose the light. I lived in the darkness for far too long.
Her face lights up in a warm smile—one that makes me want to wrap her in my arms so I can soak it all up.
“That’s perfect,” she beams.
“I’m glad you approve,” I quip, winking as I try to shove my emotions back in. “Now, let’s talk about what you want to get.”
She frowns, squaring her shoulders as she stands. “I told you I’m not getting one.”
“Uh, I’m going to step out. When you’re ready, you can just pay up front,” Kyle interjects before rushing out the door.
“You promised you wouldn’t try to pressure me,” she huffs, crossing her arms.
“I’m not,” I reassure her, coming to my feet to stand in front of her. “I’d like to think of it as encouraging you to face your fears.”
“Who said I’m afraid?” she grits out. “I’m not afraid. I just don’t want to get a tattoo.”
“Yes you do. You’ve just a
llowed someone else to tell you who are for so long, you don’t know what you want anymore,” I retort, my exposed emotions bleeding into my frustration.
“What the hell does that mean?”
I give her a pointed look instead of responding, raising my eyebrows and twisting my mouth. She knows exactly what I’m talking about. I can’t understand why anyone with such a strong will and so much passion would allow another person to hold them back, or how you can supposedly love someone and still clip their wings.
“Xander loved me,” she hisses, narrowing her eyes. “He was just looking out for me. He knew me better than anyone else—certainly better than you.”
The anger in her voice tells me we’re on shaky ground, but I hate to see her missing out on life because of other people dictating who she should be or what she should do. I want her to live her life for herself—to feel happy and content.
“I’m not disputing that, Lizzy. I think maybe…” I pause for a moment to check myself, taking a deep breath to cool down the heat in my veins. The last thing I want to do is push her away. “Look, I’m only trying to encourage you to fly—to embrace life and face your fears instead of staying grounded.”
“Which you’re implying Xander did, right?” she seethes, her hand on her hip. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Xander accepted me for who I am because he loved me. When you love someone, you accept all of them—even their flaws.”
“You’re right,” I concede, nodding as I scratch at my beard. “You have to be willing to accept the good and bad in someone, but don’t you also feel like the person you love, your better half, should encourage you and push you to be the best version of yourself? Can you truly be happy if you aren’t? Are they truly the right person for you if they don’t bring that person out?”
By the time I’m done saying what I want to say, the features on Lizzy’s red face are screwed together in a scowl. Her rigid posture, clenched fists, and ragged breathing all indicate I’ve gone too far and said way too much, but I can’t take it back now. Not that I would. I meant every word, but I hate the way she’s regarding me now. There’s a vacancy behind her eyes that seem to darken to jade rather than their normal light emerald color. She has never looked at me with this mixture of hate and anger in her eyes.
“Go to hell, Brenden. You’ve known me all of two seconds and now you think you’re the expert on what’s best for me? Do you actually believe your opinion matters to me?” she mocks, pushing me back as she steps forward. “What do you know about loving someone anyway? You want to talk about facing your fears, but you’re too afraid to put yourself out there or feel anything real for anyone. Why don’t you worry about figuring out your own shit before trying to help me?”
My heart sinks as I watch her storm out of the room. This isn’t how I wanted today to go, but she has every right to be upset with me. I hadn’t meant to imply anything about Xander or their relationship. My intentions had been good, but now I’ve screwed things up.
Her words may have been said out of spite, but they weren’t untrue. I’ve avoided having any kind of real relationships most of my life. Now, here I am wanting more with someone who isn’t capable of giving it to me.
Lizzy isn’t at the front of the shop by the time I get my shirt on and make my way up there. Panic floods through me like ice in my veins as I pay for my tattoo, certain she left me again. Finding her outside waiting by my truck, I let out a harsh breath of relief. I just got her back and I’m not ready to lose her again—not that I ever would be.
There are so many things running through my mind as I approach the truck, so much I want to say and tell her, but I don’t know where to begin, or if she’d even be able to hear me right now. She climbs into the truck as soon as I unlock the doors without sparing even a glance at me. My heart is in my throat by the time I join her. My brain is working faster than I could possibly keep up with, trying to think of what I can say or do to make this right with her, but when she makes no effort to speak to me, I decide it’s best to stay quiet for now too.
Having to endure Lizzy’s cold shoulder and the silence that fills the small space makes the short drive feel like torture. Pulling into her driveway, I decide there is no way I’m going to let her get out of my truck without saying something, anything, to try to fix this. Once I’m parked, Lizzy’s shaky hands unbuckle her seatbelt and I reach over, taking her left hand into mine.
“I’m sorry,” I breath, rubbing my thumb over her hand.
She lets out a harsh breath that sounds like a tiny sob as she hangs her head, but she doesn’t remove her hand from mine.
“I know I keep screwing this up, and I’m not sure whether it makes it better or worse for you to know that I’m trying really hard, but I am,” I sigh. “You’re right to be upset with me and you were right about what you said. I don’t doubt for a second that Xander loved you. Hell, I’d be willing to bet he still loves you.”
Lizzy’s head jerks, her wide eyes snapping to mine. Her face turns sheet white as tears begin to stream down her cheeks, and a sharp pain rips through my chest.
Shaking her head, she pulls her hand out of mine. I’m not sure what’s happening, but it feels like the entire world is crumbling down around me as I watch her turn and open the passenger door.
“I don’t want to see you anymore,” she hiccups, hopping out of the truck and slamming the door before running into her house.
Every part of me is numb as I watch her disappear inside, unable to process the possibility that I may never see her again as I pull away.
Mending Fences
“I don’t think I can do this,” I tell Julianna the second she answers the phone, my heart pounding as I pace the floor.
“Yes you can,” she chuckles. “Trust me, he is going to be thrilled to see you.”
I wish her words were reassuring, but I haven’t spoken to Brenden since things ended so disastrously last Saturday. The last thing I said to him was that I never wanted to see him again, but I hadn’t meant it—even if I thought I did in that moment. I’d been confused and upset, perhaps even a little scared. The things Brenden said hit a nerve, but what I found the most upsetting was knowing he wasn’t completely wrong. Xander was always all too happy to let me settle or take the easy and safe way through life. He didn’t encourage me to want more, be more, or do more. Having Brenden point that out made me question my relationship with Xander, which is something I’ve never done before.
I hated myself for doing that, and I hated Brenden for making me.
“How can you be so sure? I was pretty awful to him.”
Julianna sighs, “You’re just gonna have to trust me on this one.”
I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose as my stomach churns. I’m terrified of how he is going to react to seeing me. After the way I’ve acted, I wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted to speak to me again. I have certainly been more trouble than I’m worth at this point. The heaviness in my heart from missing him far outweighs any fears I have, though. I have to try.
“Do you know what you’re going to say?” she asks, and my heart stops.
“I’m going to pass out,” I pant, trying to slow my breathing, and Julianna dies laughing.
“I can’t believe you decided to show up at his place of employment as some grand gesture and didn’t even plan what you were going to say,” she teases, her words staggering through her laughter.
“How about, ‘I’m sorry I’m a crazy bitch’. Does that work?”
“I’m sure that will do the trick,” she chirps.
“I’m not even sure anything I say can or will make a difference. He’s been nothing but kind and good to me and I’ve been nothing but a pain in the ass.”
“It’s going to be fine. What time does his class end?”
“Ummm…” I pull the phone away from my ear to check the clock at the same time the studio door opens and people begin to file out. “Fuck, I’m going to puke. They’re coming out now.”
�
��Well, go get him, girl! And don’t puke. That would be bad.”
“Yeah, thanks for the advice,” I groan, running my shaky hand through my hair.
“Good luck,” she chuckles before hanging up.
I’m frozen as I stare at the door, looking for his dark hair, my heart beating in a slow, hard thud against my ribcage as I hold my breath. When he finally walks out, my stomach drops, emotion overloading my senses as my eyes water.
When he finally looks up and sees me waiting, he stops in his tracks, regarding me with drawn brows. Tilting his head, he blinks, as though he isn’t sure I’m even real, before making his way over to me.
He stops a couple feet away, giving his head a slight shake. “Lizzy?”
“Hi,” I breathe, shifting on my feet and lifting my hand to lamely wave at him.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I came here to apologize to you,” I answer, my voice meek from my erratic breathing.
“What?” I ask, inching closer to her, uncertain I heard her correctly. I hadn’t even been entirely sure she was real when I first saw her standing here. She looks like a damn dream—her curled hair cascading down her back and makeup on. It wasn’t adding up. She definitely hadn’t shown up here like that to workout, and after how we left things, seeing her is the last thing I expected.
Once I realized she was, in fact, not a figment of my imagination, I wanted to rush to her and pull her into my arms. I’ve missed her so damn much, it hurts.
“I just wanted to say how sorry I am for last weekend—for everything, really,” she says, her eyes wet and breath ragged.
“You’re sorry?” I respond, my eyebrows furrowing, still not positive I understand.
How could she possibly think she’s the one who needs to apologize? I keep acting like a jackass, pushing her too far and saying and doing things I shouldn’t. She’s sorry for everything? What the hell does that mean? No way did I want her to be sorry for everything. I sure as hell am not sorry she came into my life.
In This Moment (In This Moment #1) Page 16