Page 93 of War

Brayden chuckles. “Another tattoo?”

“I want a tattoo,” Josie whines.

I pat her on the back. “Nothing permanent until you’re at least twenty-five.”

Tyler cocks his head. “Why’s that?”

I shrug. I’m new at this mom thing, so the number just came to me, but it sounds about right. Isn’t that when a person’s frontal lobe is fully developed? Something like that. “What did you get?”

When Tyler smirks, eyes twinkling, I regret asking. He looks at me like he wants to eat me alive. And he’d enjoy it. Slowly, he unravels the bandage. Then he turns to show us the back of his hand and the three letters inked on his ring finger in the same green as the band just below them. “So everyone knows who my heart belongs to.”

“A-V-A,” Josie says.

“You tattooed my name on your finger,” I whisper, my heart pounding wildly and my gaze bouncing from the fresh tattoo to his blue eyes. Blue eyes that are beginning to feel like home.

The man didn’t use words to tell me he loved me the other night. He didn’t offer me platitudes when I broke down. He kissed every scar and then tattooed my name on his ring finger. He doesn’t just say things, he does them.

My heart doesn’t stand a chance.

“Do you have a tattoo for me?” Josie asks.

Tyler watches me as I swipe at my eyes, then turns to our inquisitive girl. “I have a few, actually.” He pulls the hem of his shirt up. There’s another bandage, but he points at another set of not so new tattoos. “Right here I’ve got your birthday. And Brayden’s and Scarlett’s are right below it.”

“That’s not my birthday,” Josie argues, her little brows pulled low. “That’s a bunch of lines.”

“It’s roman numerals.” The words are hard to get out and filled with emotion. Because our wedding date is listed there too. God, this man has been busy.

“That’s cool,” Brayden says, his voice coming out hoarse.

Clearly, Tyler’s affection still surprises us all. It shouldn’t. He doesn’t hide it. He’s continuously telling us. Continuously showing us. I imagine it’s what he would have wanted all those years ago from his father and Dory. Another bolt of rage flows through me as I imagine a boy just shy of Brayden’s age, with the same insecurities, without a man like Tyler to put him first.

I hate that he didn’t have that. That he ever went to bed at night feeling unloved. That won’t be Brayden’s story. I’ll make sure of it.

“Do you have more for Ava?” Josie says.

Tyler’s smirk is back. “Sure do.”

My heart lurches. He cannot be talking about the Vicious tattoo. I’ll melt into a puddle of mortification right here if he even hints to it.

“Where?” Josie is up on her knees, practically leaning across the table to see.

Tyler removes the bandage above his ribs. It’s a few intricate designs all twined together with a red ribbon. “There’s a hockey stick for Bray, a boxing glove because you’re my fighter, and a ballet shoe for my ballerina, Ava. They’re all wrapped in a red bow for Scarlett. Igot it over my lung because I need you to breathe.” His eyes lift to mine and he holds my gaze as he adds, “Each and every one of you.”

“Can you teach me to box?” Josie asks. God, I’ve never been more thankful for her curiosity and that nine-year-old brain jumping from one topic to another. If I had to speak right now, I don’t think I could.

Because I can’t breathe. His words. This moment. That damn tattoo. It’s stolen my breath.

“Yup, I want to show you something when we’re done with dinner anyway.”

“Better not be ice skates,” I murmur, emotion still making it difficult to speak.

Brayden’s eyes go wide. “You don’t like to skate?”

“She doesn’t knowhowto skate,” Tyler says, his gaze remaining on me.

I roll my eyes, finally feeling a bit more like myself. Tyler’s taunting normally does that. “Anyway?—”

“No, we won’t let that slide in this house,” Brayden says.

---