Page 49 of Deserter

I wasn’t unfamiliar with tattoos. My father had an anchor on his arm with my mother’s name woven through it from his time in the Navy.

Grey, on the other hand, was covered in ink, from his biceps down to his fingernails. I was drawn to a particular one under the skull ring on his middle finger. I’d noticed it the night I was taken; when he pulled it from my body. I should’ve seen him as a monster. The bird in flames had looked almost sinister streaked with my blood, but it was the look in Grey’s eyes that had haunted me most.

Apology.

Regret.

Some days, I could’ve sworn that Grey wasn’t much older than me. There was a hardness about him though that made fathoming a guess almost impossible.

I was so caught up in my thoughts that I missed his question. “I’m sorry?”

He ran his tongue across his teeth with another grin. “I asked what the deal was with the dresses.”

“Oh.” I looked down at the short-sleeved floral dress with pearl buttons. “They were my Yiayia’s.”

He looked up with a frown. “What the fuck is a Yiayia?”

“My grandmother,” I replied softly. My eyes burned, and I began sifting through the albums again to distract myself.

Grey tucked my hair behind my ear, letting his hand rest on my shoulder. “Did she meet the R—I mean, did she pass on?”

I nodded and bit my lip. “Yeah, last year. She was… she was something else. I used to spend a lot of time at her house and she was always looking for a reason to bring out her old cocktail dresses. So, it’d be a random Tuesday afternoon, and she’d insist that it was time for the Feast of the Flowers or that we were going to throw a party for a saint.”

My smile faded. “When she passed, I begged to take her dresses and jewelry. I couldn’t imagine them just being left to rot in the attic or worse, given to someone who had no idea of the story behind each piece.”

His hand moved up to cup the back of my neck. “That’s why you wear them. You’re making every day a holiday, yeah?”

“You know, I never saw it that way, but I guess I am.” I put the Fleetwood Mac LP back on the shelf.

“Don’t you want it?”

I shook my head. “No, I just like to look. Plus, I didn’t bring any cash—”

He tucked the album under his arm and began walking toward the front.

“Grey, no. I won’t let you.” I protested.

He turned around with a glare. “It’s just a record. And what’d I tell you before? You don’t let me do shit. I make the rules.”

I nodded. “Thank you. I mean, I still think you don’t need to waste your money, but—”

“Fuckin’ shut it, Celia,” he ground out.

“Thank you.” I raised up onto my toes and planted a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth.

His eyes went dark and I couldn’t help but grin when he exhaled loudly through his nose. I hadn’t meant to do it. It had been a knee-jerk reaction to him wanting to buy me something.

All traces of humor vanished when his jaw remained set in a hard line. I dropped back onto my heels, a combination of embarrassment and fear brewing in my chest.

“I have to go.” I bolted from the record store with a bowed head and watery eyes.

What had I been thinking?

That my captor suddenly had feelings for me?

Grey had been following me to make sure I kept my mouth shut, and I’d taken it as a sign of affection. A wave of dizziness washed over me, and I stumbled around to the side of the building, waiting for the world to right itself.

Maybe if I waited long enough, my brain would take back the controls from my heart.

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