Page 83 of My Best Years

I haven’t told her about my tattoo.

The cuff of my shirt sleeve is bunched up around my forearm, giving her a direct view of the ink I’ve had since I was nineteen. My one and only tattoo. Four simple lines that will forever be a part of me.

Her eyes glass over as if she knows the meaning of the tattoo without asking.

“What is that?” she whispers shakily.

She curls her fingers around my wrist and pulls my arm down to get a better view. The tension between us grows like a dense fog.

“A tattoo.”

“Obviously.” Her silver eyes flick up to mine. “But what does it mean?”

I hold her stare as she waits for my response. I never thought I would have the chance to tell her about my tattoo, much less show her. When I got it, it was just for me. A way to permanently have Birdie Wren etched into my flesh.

Her breath catches when I step in closer between her legs, so close that my nose almost brushes hers. My words come out deep and throaty.

“I think you know exactly what it means.”

It’s so quiet that I can hear our hearts beating in tandem. Thumping loudly in our chests, reaching for one another.

“I wantyouto tell me,” she insists, breathless.

When she looks up at me, a strand of golden hair falls loose in front of her face. I nod slowly before reaching up, pushing it back in place behind her ear.

She shivers, closing her eyes as my fingers skim down her jaw until I’m cupping her face between my palms.

“I got it when I was nineteen,” I start. “Exactly one year after I left you. I thought I would never see you again, and even though I knew I could never forget you, I still wanted to have you with me somehow. I needed you in any way that I could have you. So, I got this tattoo. The four curved lines look like two birds flying next to each other, but together, they make a W.”

Her brows pinch together empathetically as she returns her gaze back to the tattoo.

“Cal…” she croaks, intimately rubbing her thumb back and forth across the lines. Each swipe feels more healing than the last.

“Birdie Wren,” I clarify. “That’s what it means. When we were apart, I would look down at my tattoo, and it would giveme a sense of peace. The same comfort that you gave me when we were little kids. Losing you was the worst thing that ever happened to me, and getting this tattoo was a reminder that you were real and not just a figment of my imagination.”

Her eyes dart between mine as her chin quivers.

“I know that I hurt you, and there’s no excuse for that,” I breathe. “But I need you to know that there’s never been anyone else for me. You wereeverythingto me, Birdie. And that has never changed. To this day, you’re still my everything. You’re my axis. My world never stopped spinning for you.”

Birdie surprises me by lifting a hand and gently brushing her fingers along my bottom lip.

“It really did break you, didn’t it?” she whispers. “Leaving me?”

“It fucking killed me, Birdie,” I shake my head. “I never recovered. I haven't been the same since.”

Birdie drops her hand from my face, her body going eerily still.

I pull back far enough to watch her every move. Blink for blink. Breath for breath.

I have no idea what she’s about to say, but I stay quiet because I can practically see the words on the tip of her tongue.

When she finally voices her thoughts, her question has every cell in my body coming alive.

“Do you remember what you asked me when we were seventeen?” she asks. “We were sitting on the beach, and you asked a question that changed everything between us.”

Without having to think, I know the exact moment she’s referring to.

“Of course I do.”

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