Thing was. I’d never wanted this. This enigma that made me want to bare my heart to keep hers. She caught me by the back of the shirt before I even knew she was behind me. No, it definitely wouldn’t be just fucking with her. Maybe more like fucking passionately. I wanted to fuck her passionately after a nice dinner and walk by the water.
“Marilyn. Client’s here.” Blue’s voice shook me from my plans. I looked up and waved over a girl about my age. As she came through the saloon doors, I snuck a peek at Capri, who was watching me with a smirk so I winked at her. Then she rolled her eyes. So I made a heart with my fingers for her because I was a romantic.
I focused back on my customer who approached me sticking a hand out to introduce herself. “I’m Raquel.” She winced a smile at me, but I didn’t take it personal. I’d seen that smile a lot from customers before we get started. Nerves.
“Wes.” I winced myself at the strength in her handshake. “So what is it you were looking to get today?” I asked Raquel.
“I’d like something like this,” she said unfolding a paper she had in her hands. I took the paper and studied it.
“You got it. Where do you want this heart?” I asked reaching for my tape to hang up her image on the wall next to me for a reference.
“On my wrist,” she said rubbing her fingers across one of the most painful spots for a tat. “And, can you like, make it look empty?”
“Empty?” I cocked my head. No comprende.
“Yeah. Like a hole.” Damn. This had a story behind it. I made it my motto to never ask, though. Tattoos could be incredibly personal, and unless they told me, I kept my nosy self out of their business.
“I can do that.” I smiled at her to let her know her empty heart was in good hands. “I’ll shade it, and add some dimension to it, so it looks more like a hole punched into your skin.”
“Yes. Perfect.” She nearly smiled at me.
“Let’s do it,” I said and tapped the chair to let her know it was time to plop down and get to work. I let Raquel know I was about to start, just before I placed the needle on her skin. Her muscles were tight at first, but as I began the outline, she loosened up and handled it like a champ.
“I’m about to start in on the shading so you’ll feel more discomfort,” I told her, wiping the area clean with Bactine. I pushed back to my toolbox to change needles. “Is this your first tattoo?” I asked her.
“It is. I’ve always wanted to get something like this done,” she said tilting her wrist back and forth to check out the lines.
“Gotta say; I’ve done a lot of hearts but never an empty one.” I cringed the second the words bolted from my mouth. “Shit, that came out wrong. What I meant was that this is a nice change of pace. Artistically, I mean. Not nice that your heart is empty.” Oh fuck, someone get me a pail. The word vomit was spewin’. “I mean, not your heart, but this heart, this one on your wrist.” I shook my head and pushed myself back toward her. “Fuck it. Let’s get back to work.” That was when she laughed.
Well, laugh might be exaggerating a bit. It was more like the jolt of the start to a laugh, but I’d take it. “It’s okay,” she assured me, but I shook my head at my pathetic self and put the needle on her skin again.
She winced. Then she spoke. “It’s for my brother.” I pulled the needle from her skin and pretended to dip it into the ink, but really, I was giving her a chance to tell her story. “He and I were in the foster care system together.” Fuck. There went my iron. Crashing to the floor.
“Marilyn, what the hell’s goin’ on over there?” Blue grumbled hunched over his customer’s back.
“Shit. Sorry. I’m sorry. Let me clean up real quick and get you a clean set of needles,” I told Raquel, pushing back to my toolbox. “Dropped my nutsack,” I shouted back at Blue. “Shit’s always weighing me down.” I wiped the sweat from my hand on my jeans and turned around grinning at the shop. Blue was chuckling, Trace held his finger up flipping me off, Rocco was shaking his head and mumbling something that was probably in Spanish, and Capri, she watched me.
There went my cocky grin. I shifted my eyes away to the machine quickly, then back. She was still watching me. Then, to my shoes, they were awesome today, Cobalt blue Chucks. Then back to Capri. Still watching. Holy mother of Ludacris, it was hot in here. I gripped the bottom of my shirt and began to pull it over my head.
“Keep your shirt on, Marilyn. Jesus.” Oh, yeah.
“Sorry, Bluebell.” I let go of the hem and looked back at Capri. Still watching. I was freakin’ out.
I did my best to ignore the way Capri was looking at me and started in on the shading for Raquel’s tat, praying to any god that was willing to listen to me that she wouldn’t say any more.
“So, yeah, this is for him.” Just as I thought, I was not on any god’s nice list. I did my best to listen to her without hearing what she was saying. I was usually pretty good at it. In fact, I was sure I could give a demonstration on the art of listening but not hearing. For some reason, though, my hearing capabilities were over-performing today.
“When we were eight, he was adopted. I wasn’t.” My foot fell off the pedal for a quick sec, but I recovered. “At first his new family tried to keep in contact with me, but with so many new addresses and new phone numbers, eventually they lost touch.” I nodded and sang “Drive” silently in my head.
“We got back in touch recently,” she said.
“That’s great.” Finally, something good.
“I guess.” Oh c’mon, for the love of gods who wouldn’t hear me. “He tries to help me out a lot when I’m behind on rent or come up short on my half of the bar tab, but I don’t know. I don’t want to sound ungrateful, it’s just—”
“You don’t want any help.” I filled in the blank. Almost done. I needed to hurry this thing up and get some fresh air.
“Exactly. And he has kids and a wife. I want to be able to do things for them, too, but I can’t. I can barely take care of myself let alone anybody else.” Finished. I pulled the needle away from her swollen skin and looked up at Capri. Not watching.
“We’re done,” I said spraying on another layer of Bactine before giving her a chance to look at the piece.
“It’s perfect,” she whispered giving the fresh tat a look. My job here was done. I danced on my toes, itching to get out of the shop, but I had told Raquel just one thing before she left.
“For what it’s worth, I hope you find a way to fill that heart someday, and when you do, come back here so I can reinvent it for you.”
“Thank you,” she said touching her fingertips to the heart. “That’s a delightful idea. A reinvented heart.” She looked up and smiled widely at me. “Thank you again.”
I nodded. I fidgeted. I grabbed my keys. I ran for the door.
The bells jingled behind me when I hit the parking lot. Fresh air. I inhaled deeply and tossed my head to the sky soaking in the moisture in the air.
“Stop running away, Wes.” Capri’s voice softened the command, but I couldn’t look at her. It was the concern I’d seen earlier in the shop that I didn’t want to see now.
“Whatever it is that makes you up and run. Don’t do it. Face it.” I could hear her walking closer to me.
“It’s not that easy,” I said letting my chin fall to my chest.
“I imagine it’s not, but I know that whatever it is, you can look at it head on and make it your bitch.” My. Fuckin’. Girl.
I turned around laughing to see her. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. You’re kind of awesome.” She came to stand before me and looked up at me with those big brown eyes.
“You are, too. That’s why I know whatever is hidden inside of you doesn’t stand a chance.”
I had to touch her. I traced my hand down her face and cupped her jaw in my palm. “I’ve been running for so long, I’m not sure I know how to slow down.”
Her hand came up to cover mine. “Let me help you then. I’ll even trip you.” She grinned, enjoying that th
ought a little too much.
Could I? I wanted to. I wanted to let Capri in and to share the burdens of my past with her. I thought I’d already started to. It was just so scary. Too scary.
A guy like me wouldn’t ever be what a girl like her deserved. She had so much going for her in her life, and she’d only just now started to live it. I might just be a stop on her way through. But, if I wasn’t and she wanted to be with me, would I ever amount to what she deserved? Not likely.
“Okay, but promise me one thing, Capri.” I traced the line of her lips with my thumb, talk now and kiss later. “Promise me you won’t fall in love with me.”
She flinched away from me. “You don’t want me to love you?”
“You can’t.” I dropped my head and stared at the stark white tip of my shoe. “I want to be the man you deserve, but what if I can’t?” There was the truth. I wanted so badly to be not only whom Capri wanted but also be the man she would be proud of.
“Why don’t you let me be the one to decide what I deserve?” she said, and I raised an eyebrow to that. She put her hands up in defense. “I know, I know. I may not have the best track record, but there’s a reason for that. They weren’t what I deserved because they weren’t you.”
My eyes snapped to hers, and she stared at my nostrils flaring. She meant it.
“Can I show you something?” I asked her because if she was hell bent on thinking I would be enough, then she needed to know this before she made up her mind.
“Put this on, C. It’s cold up here.” Wes pulled his hoodie from behind my seat and handed it to me. When he asked if he could show me something, the top of Mount Soledad was not what I expected.
“Hop on.” Wes patted the hood of his precious car. Was he crazy? Before I had a chance to make sure he really wanted my rear end on it, he scooped me up in his arms and set me down on it.
“You okay? Need a blanket or anything?” he asked zipping his jacket up. I only smiled. How could he think I didn’t deserve him?
“What are you smiling about?” he asked looking over himself.
“Come sit with me.” I patted the warm spot on the hood next to me. “Tell me what we’re doing up here.”
He slid up next to me, but not as close as I would have liked. I fought the need to touch him and gave him the space he seemed to need. When I chased him out of the shop tonight, I had no idea how things would go. All I knew was something in the tattoo he’d just done hit him deep. I saw it in the way my cool and confident Wes fumbled with his machine, and I saw it in his wide, panicked eyes.
When he ran, the only thing on my mind was that I needed to follow. On my way out of the shop, Blue said something to me I thought about the entire drive up the mountain. He told me that Wes had been waiting a long time for me and that finding me had him scared shitless.
“See that hospital over there?” Wes pointed inland. I nodded. “That’s where I was born, to two people who never should have had children.” I wanted to turn to Wes for this, but I felt like keeping my attention away from him would make him more comfortable, so I stared at the hospital.
“What happened with your dad?” I asked the question I’d always been curious about. For as long as I knew Wes, I’d never heard anything about his dad.
“When I was three, my dad was arrested for dealing.”
“Drugs?” I said louder than I intended and whipped my head to him.
“Drugs.” He nodded and kept his eyes trained on the hospital. “Not too far from that is where I lived with my mom up until she was arrested for possession. Of drugs.” His eyes met mine briefly in the smallest smirk I’d ever seen on Wes’ face. “I don’t remember much from that age, but I guess she used heavily and left me with the neighbor most of the time. She tried to get the county to leave me with her the day they took me away, but since she wasn’t a legal guardian, they couldn’t.”
“They took you away? From where?” I asked unable to take my eyes off of him.
“From my mom. She was declared unfit, and I was removed from the home and placed in foster care.”
I tried to catch the audible gasp I let out with my hands, but I’d missed. “Foster care? For how long?”
“Forever.”
“What?” I didn’t understand because when I met him, he was living with his mom. “But your mom?”
“Brenda isn’t my mom. My mom is somewhere out there.” He held his hand out into the clear night sky. “Probably high as a kite. Brenda was the last of my foster parents. I lived with her until I aged out at eighteen.”
I had so many questions. This was so much to hear, and I didn’t know where to begin. Wes took over the silence and continued talking.
“That was the first home I remember.” Wes pointed to an area closer to the coast. “The O’Donnels. They were an older couple, more like grandparents. They took real good care of me, though. I remember them asking me questions all the time. Questions about my favorite things to do, how my day was, if I was making any new friends, what did I want from the grocery store. It was nice.”
“The next house, right down there, wasn’t so nice. Miss Cindy had too many of us. She had two vans just to drive us around town, one she drove and one her daughter drove. I had a place to sleep, but I tucked myself in. I was always fed, but no one cared if I ate it or not. There were a lot of other kids to play with, but no one to talk to.”
“There’s an older neighborhood hidden in that patch of trees.” Wes pointed back toward the hospital again. “The couple I lived with there shouldn’t have ever been approved as foster parents.”
“What do you mean?” I asked him. His eyes met mine again. His brows furrowed and then turned downward at the corners.
“Dusty and Lena just weren’t very nice to me,” he said softly.
“What did they do to you?” I asked, feeling the warmth of anger in my chest.
“Enough that I was removed,” he said then pulled his eyes from mine. I crossed my arms over my stomach and pinched my eyes closed. I held back my tears, wanting to be strong for Wes.
“The next house I was at was great,” he said with a smile in his voice. “It was a Christian couple who had two kids my age. They were really kind. They sent me to a therapist who helped me get through a lot of the stuff I’d been dealing with. Actually, I contacted him when I turned eighteen and still visit him every so often.
“That was the family who really showed me how a family should be. And yours,” he said touching me for the first time when he reached out to pull my hands from where they were wrapped tightly around my stomach.
“The last house I lived in was Brenda’s. She wasn’t awful but not great, either. She was just…there. I’m most thankful for being sent to her though because that’s how I met Blue, August, and you.” He pulled my hand to his mouth and gave it a soft kiss.
There was no hiding the tears that I felt cascading down my face. Simply put, I was heartbroken. Wes had been in foster care nearly his whole life. I had no idea. No idea.
“Does anyone besides Blue know?” I asked him sniffling and gripping his hand in mine. I didn’t want him to pull it away just yet.
He nodded his head. “Ridge, his mom. Ridge’s social worker is the same one I had. He’s still considered in foster care, but his parents have been going through the process of adopting him.”
“That’s great.” I smiled, happy for Ridge but aching for Wes. Why wasn’t he adopted? As if hearing my question, he answered for me.
“My dad never gave up his rights to me. He convinced the system that he was trying to get his shit together for me over and over again. That’s why I could never be adopted. The Christian family, the Davison’s, they wanted to.” He took a slow deep breath then let go of my hand and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a folded piece of paper.
Carefully and so gently, he pulled it apart one soft fold at a time. He held the paper out to me, and it wobbled in the space between us. It wasn’t windy out.
I took the paper and sta
red. Holy crap.
“My mermaid. Your marlin. Wes, what is this?”
“It’s a sketch my dad did. One of the only good memories I have of him. Hell, one of the only memories I have of him was the day he drew this picture and told me the story of the marlin and the mermaid.”
“He’s who you get your talent from,” I observed, tracing the outline of the sketch with my finger. It really did resemble Wes’ own artwork, embodying his knack for realism mixed in with an ethereal quality I’d only seen done by him.
“I guess so.” Wes looked out into the distance toward the ocean. “My passion for it is my own, though.”
“Of course,” I said, understanding his need to separate himself from his dad.
“So what’s the story that goes with this?” I asked looking toward the blackened ocean.
“The marlin was a brave and strong fish. Time and time again, he was caught by fishermen but wrestled himself free of the nets.”
“Kind of like Hemingway,” I said
A dry laugh escaped from him. “The only book I actually read in high school. Took me forever.”
“So where does the mermaid come in?” I asked noticing how exact this sketch was to the mermaid Wes had painted on me.
“Well, the marlin was a stubborn fucker and liked to mess with the fishermen. Each time he saw a boat approach, he put on a show for the fishermen, doing swan dives and belly flops.”
“Wow.” I giggled softly, and Wes peered at me out of the corner of his eye with a small grin.
“Until he was caught again.” He looked back into the darkness. “This time the marlin was over it, and rather than fighting for his freedom, he let go and sunk into the net.
“He thought he was dreaming when he saw her swimming up toward him through the depths of the ocean. Her golden hair mixing in swirls and smears with the water.” I smiled at his description of the mermaid. I loved when this side of Wes slipped through, the side that forgot who he was trying to be, and revealed the sublime center of his soul.
Truth in Watercolors (Truth Series Book 2) Page 15