Page 65 of Reverse

“Then you aren’t reading the situation correctly. Come on,” he says, his jade eyes imploring. When I remain where I am, posture tense with indecision, he cups my cheek with a gentle palm, bending so we’re eye level. “This time, I’m the asshole for blindsiding you. I’m owning it.”

“It’s not just that, but Easton,” I damn near close my eyes at the feel of his thumb whispering along my cheek, “maybe I should just go. I mean, I’m leaving tomorrow anyway.”

“You don’t want to go,” he fires back with conviction, gripping my hand and jingling it within his. “And I don’t want you to go, either.”

His admission stuns me briefly as he looks down at me the way he did last night when we nearly combusted outside the hotel. Judgment clouding and damned near seduced, I don’t argue as he turns abruptly and leads me back to the shop. We glance at each other as he opens the door, the slight lift of his lips fueling my steps inside.

“Cool,” Benji says, seeming unfazed by my outburst. Easton releases my hand and takes his place back on the table, his watchful eyes pinned on me as I sink back into the seat.

“You look like you could use a drink,” Benji says, readying his gun. “Pour yourself a beer. There’s wine in the cooler, too.”

“You’re right. You two want one?”

Benji shakes his head. “He can’t drink as he’s getting inked, and I won’t while I’m inking him. The bar is more for those waiting. We’ll take waters.”

“Got it,” I say, deciding it’s not the worst idea. Tipping the glass into the nozzle, I pour myself a Smoked Porter overhearing a little of their heated exchange, grinning at the “stupid motherfucker,” curse coming from Easton as the music changes. Beer in hand, I grab two bottles of water from the fridge before walking back over and passing them out. Benji thanks me as I place his on the counter of the station next to where he works, and hand Easton his. His eyes probe me as if to ask, ‘we okay?’ and I nod easily. His shoulders visibly relax, and the sight of it warms me further. We hold our connection as I resume my seat and tip my beer. Gun buzzing in short bursts, Benji speaks up after grabbing more ink.

“The reason I admitted my parents’ relationship is a shitshow,” Benji says without looking up, intent on his task, “is because if their history is screwing with your head, I can relate.” Stopping his gun, he scoffs and shakes his head before pressing the needles back into Easton’s skin. “Their relationship has been a thirty-year saga.”

“How so?”

He looks at me pointedly.

“Anything you say is off the record. You have my word.”

He weighs my promise, and I speak up again.

“I have a paper to inherit, and I’m not gambling it or my integrity away foranystory, no matter how in demand it is.”

Benji dips his chin. “It’s not like it’s a secret anyway. They’ve been on and off my whole life. To this day, they live separately but are crazy, and I mean fucking craaazzzyyy in love, which, for them, has never really been a good thing.”

“If they’re so in love . . . why aren’t they together? Is it because of her infidelity?”

“Yeah, after Mom purposefully sabotaged their relationship because of her insecurity, Dad was never able to forgive her, but neither have ever really let each other go.”

“So, they haven’t been together since?”

“Yeah, they have, but not long term and never exclusively. I guess that’s Dad’s fucked up way of punishing her over the years, and Mom’s so stubborn that she’s never fully admitted to himthatpunishment has worked all too well. Dad went as far as to get engaged, even though he was still clearly in love with her. This is also the reason neither have ever married. I would love to say I came out of their drama unscathed, but it’s not the case. In fact, it’s no secret to those who know me well that I would rather shoot off my cock than get serious with anyone. That’s what I was trying to convey—”

“Fucking horribly,” Easton scolds over the buzzing gun and music.

“Fucking horribly,” Benji concedes, tossing an apologetic expression my way. “So, all due respect to tía Stella and both ofyourrelationship examples,” he looks between Easton and me, “I have other ideas on how to live without the weight of commitment. And I can guarantee I’m going to be the groomsman ready with the getaway car.”

Drawing on my beer, I nod.

“So, tell me what really brought you here, Natalie Butler,” Benji demands.

The sound of my last name has me tipping my beer back further, hoping it will loosen me up enough to speak as candidly. I’m not at all at ease with Benji the way I am with Easton, and it’s becoming more evident by the second.

“She likes to be the one to ask questions,” Easton interjects. Translation—it’s hard for her.

He’s dead on. I’m not all that much a ‘share my feels’ type of girl. At least I wasn’t until Easton challenged what I thought was a truth about me.

When I’ve been hurt in the past, I usually use it as fuel to better myself somehow. Incorporating the ache in a new workout routine or using it to push myself harder in my studies or work. Using my pain to better myself has always been my method to come out stronger. Only when I’m truly at my lowest do I confide my hurts to Holly or my mom. When I do that, that’s when they know I’m down for the count—at least temporarily.

From what I’ve gathered, these two seem completely comfortable sharing things that seem highly personal. Easton managed to draw my truths from me like no one ever has, peeling me back easily, layer by layer, in just a few days.

“I think I’m going to need another beer first,” I admit. “I don’t have that swinging dick honesty you two seemed to have pegged.”

---