Marked

by Drew Elyse

  “I think I might be messier than most.”

  “Can’t say I agree with that. There are a lot of people out there that take the kind of shit you’re carrying and let it ruin them. They take that shit out on others, they drug themselves until they can’t feel it. What’ve you done? You’ve put being a good mother for your boy first. Something shitty happened today and it made you break down a bit, but that hardly compares.”

  Her head tipped back to look at me. Her eyes were pink, her cheeks blotchy and damp with tears. There was hair clinging to the wet skin. She was an absolute mess. And still, she was fucking beautiful.

  “You’re really sweet.”

  “My mom tried her best,” I teased.

  One corner of her lips rose a fraction. They looked so soft.

  I reached up, rubbing the tears from her cheeks and pushing the loose hair back from her face. It was overstepping, I knew it, but I couldn’t resist letting my thumb run across her bottom lip as I moved from one cheek to the other. It was like brushing against pure silk. Her breathing changed, and I felt it right down to my balls.

  “I brought cupcakes,” she offered into the tense moment between us.

  So fucking cute.

  “Thanks, gypsy.”

  “There’s lemon. Avery’s been on a lemon kick because the smell can help with morning sickness. I know those are your favorite.”

  I raised an eyebrow, and she bit her lip. I swear there was a hint of a blush beneath the tear tracks.

  “You always get more than one when we have them,” she explained.

  Ah, so she’d been paying attention to what I was getting.

  Her eyes went to the ceiling, and I wondered if my face was betraying how fucking smug I felt.

  “I get an extra for Jess.” I let her off the hook. “They’re her favorite.”

  “Oh.”

  There was something working in her eyes, considering me, and I had to know. “What?”

  “Are you two…”

  I barked out a laugh. Fuck, was she kidding? “No. Never. Just friends.”

  “Okay.”

  It was ballsy, probably so ballsy I’d end up with bruised nuts from making the move. I went for it anyway. “I’ve got someone else in my sights. I know I should back off and leave her be, but I can’t seem to help myself.”

  She actually gawked at me a bit, like I hadn’t been obvious as fuck the last few times I’d been around her. “Oh.”

  “You like saying that.”

  Her eyes dropped, but that lip tilt was back. It was looking down that made her finally realize she was in my lap. Before she could jump off, I tightened my arms a bit. It wasn’t enough to hold her there by a long shot, just a silent assurance that she was good where she was—if she wanted to stay. Her body was like a statue perched on top of mine for several heartbeats, and I was certain she was going to retreat.

  You could have bowled me over with a breath when she stayed put. Feeling her relax into me, fully aware of what she was doing, made me feel like a fucking king.

  “You want to talk about it?”

  She released a deep breath.

  “We were in the car with him,” she started, shocking the hell out of me again by opening up. “Owen and I.”

  Shit. I hadn’t known that.

  “I remember the car coming at us.” Her voice was steady, not quite that lifeless tone I’d gotten before. Still, she seemed distant in that moment, like being fully present while talking about this was too much. “I remember Joel swerving, getting Owen and me as far from the point of impact as possible.”

  “Fuck.” I couldn’t keep it in hearing that. I’d figured he’d had to be a good guy to inspire the kind of love Kate had for him even now, and that shit just proved it.

  “I blacked out. When I woke up, I was in the ambulance. Owen was in transport before me. Joel…” She swallowed hard. “He was still trapped.”

  I gripped onto her hands tighter, hoping to be some kind of anchor for her through this. Wishing she didn’t have to relive it, but knowing that she couldn’t keep on the way she had been.

  “I never found out if he was already gone then,” she whispered like it was some shameful admission to not know. As if she should have tortured herself with that knowledge. “I never learned anything but that he was suddenly gone.”

  “Did you want to know?”

  She shook her head as she ducked her chin in.

  “Then it’s good you didn’t. That shit, the specifics, they don’t matter. That’s not him. That’s not how you should remember him. I know.” I felt the familiar sinking sensation that always accompanied the memories of losing Dad. “I know exactly how my dad died. He was still hanging on when he got back to the hospital. They had him in surgery for hours trying to help, but his injuries were too severe. I know exactly what inevitably took him from us. And I’ll tell you the honest truth: I wish I didn’t.

  “Knowing all the details didn’t help; it just took something already horrible and made it gruesome. In the worst times, it was going over every detail of what the surgeon told us that haunted me most. There were times I couldn’t even picture my dad as he was. When I tried, I’d conjure up this image of him in that O.R. That wasn’t him, though. He was all the good times before that.”

  I released my hold on her when she started to shift, thinking she needed space. When she turned in my lap to throw her arms around me, that sick feeling of the lingering grief washed away. I wrapped her up, hoping I could offer her even a touch of that same feeling in return. My feeble attempt at not noticing how good she felt there was going to make my life hell later if this was the only chance I got.

  “Thank you,” she said, her breath warming my neck with the words.

  Afraid of breaking the moment, I only tightened my hold in response. It also helped me keep my mind off of other things that were tightening against my will.

  She pulled back too soon. I knew I’d probably held her there a solid minute, but I got the distinct feeling having Kate pull away from me would always be too soon. Her arms didn’t unwind from my neck, though. She sat there, leaned only inches back, and met my eyes. The longer we sat there, the more her face had begun to clear of the signs of her tears. Even a mess, she’d be beautiful. Now, that close, the normal color returning to her skin, she’d never been more gorgeous. I had to ball my hands into fists to keep myself from pulling her back in, wanting to feel all of her against me again. Her tongue came out to wet her lips, and I bit down on mine in response to hold back the groan. She had to know how she was torturing me. Not that I was even considering asking her to stop.

  Maybe it was just the lack of blood up top, but there was something in her eyes I couldn’t read, something working beneath the surface. I couldn’t decipher it.

  And then I didn’t have to guess.

  She made it pretty fucking clear when she pressed her lips to mine.

  Fuck.

  They were somehow impossibly softer against mine than they had been on the pad of my thumb. It was just a simple kiss, nothing more. I deserved a goddamn medal for resisting the need to devour her. This wasn’t about my needs. This was about Kate.

  Even as I thought it, I knew she could kiss me just like that as many times as she wanted to, and I’d resist that urge every time if that was what she needed from me. Anything to experience it again.

  Anything for her.

  She sat back, her eyes wide. “I…I’m—”

  I cut her off before she could finish. “You don’t ever need to apologize for that.”

  She bit her lip, and I lost the battle with holding back a groan when her eyes dropped to mine. The sound made her gaze pop back up, a flush darkening her cheeks.

  She was trying to kill me.

  What a sweet fucking way to go.

  Chapter Twelve

  Kate

  I’d kissed him.

  I couldn’t believe I’d kissed him.

  I couldn’t believe part of me—a big part—wanted
to do it again.

  What the hell was happening?

  I was… I’d just… I cheated on Joel.

  No, you didn’t. Stop it, Katie.

  I’d told myself that Joel was it. Without him, the days of intimacy, touching, kissing, and definitely anything beyond that were done for me.

  So, how did I end up right there?

  Because you never should have decided all that. I’d never ask that of you.

  That settled it. That voice? That wasn’t my Joel. No, it was some messed up part of my own subconscious trying to convince me to let go and do whatever the hell I felt like.

  My Joel was possessive. He had been right from the beginning—not that he was alone in that. There were times I wondered if some part of him wanted me to get his name tattooed all over so no one would miss that I was taken.

  Joel’s hands cupped the small curve of my stomach, grinning like a fool. Our baby was growing in there, and he’d been anxiously awaiting this point. I was finally showing. “Now all those jackasses that check you out when I’m not at your side will know you’re mine.”

  “Really?”

  His eyebrow went up, but he didn’t take it back.

  “Gypsy,” Liam called, and I realized I’d zoned out on him again.

  What was I supposed to do now? Part of me wanted to run. Just get out of there and pretend none of this had ever happened. Part of me wanted to lean in and kiss him again. It had felt right, but now I was worried it was so wrong.

  “I can see what’s going on in your head. I know I can’t do anything to reassure you that this is okay, but I’m going to be honest with you. I want you. I have for a while, and spending time around you only makes that stronger. I fucking loved what just happened. But if you aren’t ready, I’m not going to push. Whatever you decide, I’ll honor that. I can still be here to talk to. We can go on like that didn’t just happen. I won’t forget it, because I’d never want to, but it doesn’t have to change anything.”

  Why was he so nice?

  What was I supposed to do with that?

  Enjoy it. You deserve it.

  Shut up, Joel.

  “I don’t know what to do,” I confessed.

  The smile he gave me was almost indulgent. “Then don’t decide now. We’ll stick with friends. If you want that to change, you just have to say the word.”

  I should have said no right then and there. Relationships weren’t on my radar. Never again.

  Right?

  “Okay.”

  He grinned like the cat that got the cream, and I couldn’t even be pissy with him for it. He knew it was a victory, however small.

  How the war would play out, we’d have to see.

  “How about for now we go finish off your tattoo?” He was always giving me an out.

  I glanced around, searching for a clock and coming up short. “Do you still have time?”

  “I don’t have another appointment after yours. I’ve got all night.” He capped off the line with a pump of his eyebrows. It was barely two.

  “Oh, so now I get subjected to the crappy lines? Do I strike you as that kind of girl?”

  “Willing to try anything that might work.”

  Damn, that was a good one.

  “All right, Casanova. Time to actually get some work done.” I started climbing off, and he held out a hand to assist me.

  “I think I’ve accomplished quite a lot already.”

  Well, I couldn’t argue with that.

  He’d definitely accomplished making a mess of my head.

  Hate to break it to you, babe, but it was already a mess. Better to say he’s finally straightening it out.

  Liam was leaning against the wall, that dimple of his on display as I gawked at the mirror next to him. The tattoo was done. My side was sore, but it was absolutely worth it. Staring at the finished product, I could hardly believe it was really done. I’d been standing there a couple minutes trying to get that to sink in.

  “Well, do you like it?”

  Did I like it?

  “It’s perfect.”

  He smiled full out at that. Between that, the view of his tattooed forearms crossed and on display, and the comfort that still lingered hours after being that close to him had given me, I wanted to kiss him. I wondered if wanting to, meant I should, but the thought of Joel shut that down.

  Regardless of if it was right or wrong, I absolutely wasn’t ready.

  I focused back on the tattoo, marveling at it again. Even on my reddened skin, it was beautiful. It occurred to me then that whatever happened between us, I’d always have this, making me feel grateful to Liam. I’d hear him calling me “gypsy” and remember what happened earlier.

  He’d left a mark that went way beyond the skin.

  “Hey, Momma.” I heard Liam say and my eyes flew his way.

  He had his phone out, his attention still on me in a way that made me very aware of the fact that I had my shirt rolled up to my chest. The thought had crossed my mind a lot while he’d worked on the color. It wasn’t that I was particularly self-conscious. Sure, I had stretch marks on my stomach, but I’d had a son. It happened. Besides, Liam had seen me the same way for the first half of the tattoo, and that didn’t affect what he’d said earlier.

  It was simply that I knew he was looking, and every indication was that he liked what he saw. That was something I hadn’t experienced in a while.

  “Just wrapping up, why?”

  He listened for a moment, and it crossed my mind that it might be rude for me to stand there eavesdropping—if you could call it that when he was aware I could hear everything he said. We still needed to cover the tattoo, though, which left me with little options for making myself scarce.

  “Sounds good. Do you have extras?” He was silent through the response. “Because I have a couple people I’d like to bring.” Another response from his mother. “All right, I’ll see you soon then.”

  After a goodbye, he pocketed his phone and focused his full attention on me.

  “Do you have dinner plans?”

  “What?”

  “It’s just after five. Do you have plans for dinner? You know, the meal we eat in the evening?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “You know, being an asshole is not the most effective to win a girl over.”

  He straightened from the wall, making his way to me with lazy strides until he was just inches from being flush against me. “I don’t play games, gypsy. With me, what you see is what you get.”

  “And if I don’t want it?” I lifted my chin a bit, going for haughty even if his words worked for me in a big way.

  He looked down to watch as one of his hands traced up my side, feather-light, following the contour of the tattoo. “I’m feeling more confident all the time that you do.”

  Well, that made one of us.

  Unable to handle him being so forward, even if it was heady, I turned my face away.

  He didn’t seem fazed by my retreat. “So, dinner?”

  “I thought you just told your mom you’d see her soon.”

  “Yeah, dinner is at Mom’s.”

  I snapped my head back, openly gawking and not caring. “You want me to meet your mother?”

  “And Connor,” he added as a confirmation. “Mostly, my mom went all out, and it’s a crime to miss that, but I also want to have dinner with you. Two birds, one stone.”

  “I have to get Owen.”

  He shrugged. “I figured. We have time. Where is he?”

  “Wait. Wait.” What was happening here? “You want me and my son to go have dinner with you, your brother, and your mom?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t think that’s slightly awkward.”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, I do.”

  “Why?” He looked curious, like he genuinely didn’t understand why this would be awkward.

  “We aren’t together, and yet you’re trying to bring me home to meet your family.”

  What part of this wa
s he missing?

  “Yeah. I bring friends to the house. Jess has been there, Parker, Grant. Hell, Sketch even came by with Ash and the kids one time. My family’s the shit. My mom’s a great cook, and she likes having people around.”

  All right, maybe I was blowing things out of proportion.

  “I’m not going to force you to,” Liam went on. “I won’t even beg—much.” His grin was unrepentant and not even a bit ashamed that he’d beg. “I thought we agreed to be friends, and friends spend time together. Especially when one friend had something spectacularly shitty happen to them.” He had me there. “There’s no pressure here, gypsy. Just come eat a really good meal with nice people. I can even drive so you won't have to again if you want.”

  “But what about my car?” I knew at that point I was just grasping at straws, but I couldn’t help myself. Liam talking about his family was endearing. Seeing him around them might be too much.

  “One word to Sketch, and I’m guessing that won’t be an issue.”

  He was right, of course. If I asked, the brothers would probably manage to get my car up to the farmhouse before we were even home.

  This was all on me. I could say no, no repercussions, no hard feelings, but I would be saying it because it was something I wasn’t ready for. There were no excuses to get out of this. Liam was asking me to prove that I was at the minimum taking us being friends seriously.

  “Okay.”

  I thought he’d at least look surprised; I should have known better. Though, he didn’t give me smug either. I got a smile, one that was pleased and nothing more.

  “Okay.”

  “What’re we having?”

  He turned away to grab the ointment he needed to put on, then to the sink to rewash his hands, answering as he did. “Meatloaf and mashed potato casserole. Mom always makes too much. She insists that the recipe can’t be halved or it won’t come out right. Will Owen be good with that?”

  “If it’s meat, generally Owen will eat it.”

  Liam chuckled. “Smart kid.”

  “What is mashed potato casserole, exactly?”

  He grabbed a rolling stool, bringing it over beside me so he was eye-level with the tattoo and started smoothing a layer of the ointment on it. “Mashed potatoes made really smooth with heavy cream and way more butter than any healthy person should eat. Then it goes in a casserole dish, gets a sprinkling of paprika on the top, and goes in the oven until it’s hot as fucking lava and gets a bit of a crust to the top.”