Page 28 of Made For Ruin

We trade lazy kisses as our heart rates slow, basking in the afterglow of our lovemaking. I’ve never felt so sated, so cherished, so utterly content.

Marcus’s shirt lies discarded on the floor where he tossed it earlier, and now I can’t stop staring at the artwork decorating his chest and arms. In the soft glow of his bedside lamp, the tattoos draw mysterious shadows across his skin.

I’ve noticed them before, of course - it’s impossible not to when his forearms are on display in those rolled-up flannelsleeves. But this is the first time I’ve had the chance to really look at them up close.

“I love all of your tattoos.” I trace my finger along a coiled rope design near his collarbone. “You have so many.”

He catches my wandering hand in his much larger one, but doesn’t move it away. Just holds it there against his skin.

“Most of them are from my Marine days.”

“Like this one?” I tap the intricate emblem on his bicep.

“MARSOC. First Marine Special Operations Battalion.” His thumb strokes absent patterns on my captured hand. “Got it after qualifying. Though the guys would’ve made my life hell if I hadn’t.”

I smile at the hint of humor in his voice. “Peer pressure via tattoo gun?”

“Something like that.”

He shifts slightly, and I worry I’ve pushed too far, but then he points to another mark on his chest, a string of numbers and letters I don’t understand.

“This one’s from my first deployment. Unit designation. I was eighteen when I enlisted. Straight out of high school in Bozeman.” His jaw tightens. “Young and stupid, thinking I had everything figured out.”

I think about myself at eighteen, still living at home, helping Dad at the diner. The biggest decision I had to make was which college to attend.

“That must have been intense.”

“Wasn’t all bad.” But there’s something in his voice that makes me look up. His eyes are distant, focused on something I can’t see. “Made some good friends. Learned who I was. Who I wanted to be.”

“What made you finally decide to leave?”

“It was time.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Then, right after I got out, Axel had that car accident senior year.”

My stomach tightens as I remember that terrifying night.

“So that’s why you moved here.”

“Yeah. Needed to be closer. Try to...” He trails off, jaw working. “Do better.”

“What happened with you and Axel’s mom?” I ask softly. “He never told me.”

Marcus is silent for so long that I think he won’t answer. His hand continues its gentle movement on mine.

Finally, he says, “Axel’s mom, Sophia, and I grew up together in Bozeman. She was different back then. We both were.”

I stay quiet, giving him space to continue.

“Found out she was pregnant right before my first deployment. We were just kids ourselves. Barely even old enough to drink. I told her I’d marry her, take care of them both.” He lets out a long breath. “She said she needed time to think about it. Then my orders came through.”

“You didn’t hear from her?”

“Radio silence for almost two years. Then I get this letter.” His voice roughens. “She’d married Victor Martinelli six months after I deployed. Axel was walking, talking... calling Victor ‘dad.’”

“That’s awful.”

My heart aches for him, for the young Marine who must have felt his world collapse with that letter.

“Victor had connections and money. Could give them both the kind of life I couldn’t.” His thumb traces circles on my skin. “She’d already registered Axel with his last name. Had him in private preschool. The whole nine yards.”

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