Page 10 of Irrevocably Mine

Not that sex was a bad thing. Shit, it was the opposite, in fact. And sex with her was cataclysmic. He always knew it would be that way when he was truly in love—deeply and madly in love, not just the youthful blush that turns you inside out with no purpose beyond that—the lasting love that not only turns you inside out, it does so with the purpose of inventorying your bones and marking them as owned.

Realizing how deep his feelings for Stacy ran made him think of Sam for a brief moment. They’d been like a hair band power ballad, struggling but making it for the sake of love. It didn’t take long for both of them to realize the love they shared, while genuine, wasn’t the kind marriages were built upon. Friendships, yes, but happy families, not so much.

They weren’t exactly unhappy, they were just, eh. Or so he thought, until the day his classes ended early to prep for the category 4 that was headed into the gulf. He always thought the sight of his life crumbling down around him would be more menacing, more, strike fear in his heart before it stopped kind of thing, but nah. Unless you consider a ‘79 Monte menacing, which no one ever has.

The car parked in front of the trailer they called home, coupled with the tell-tale rocking motion of the trailer, left no question what was happening. His lack of piss and vinegar about the whole situation proved their love wasn’t like that. He picked up his daughter from preschool and called Sam to let her know they were hunkered down at his mom’s.

Sadly, those few days were the last time he shared anything real with his mom. She let the drugs take over and stayed in that dark place for years.

He never mentioned the Monte to anyone, not even Sam. They continued on that way for four more years. Four more sexless years. As hungry as he was for adult companionship, he never cheated, not even in getting close to another woman and confiding. To him, that was more intimate than sex. Sex was an action where you shared physical pleasure, but opening up to someone was a connection that didn’t end when you put your pants on.

Then one day, Sam disappeared and took his little sunshine munchkin with her. Macy would be fifteen now. He often wondered what she looked like and if she thought of him fondly. Sam wasn’t a vindictive person, the Sam he thought he knew anyway, but he couldn’t help but wonder what she told his daughter about Daddy and why they went away.

Dax damn near went broke looking for them over the years, but found nothing. Not a single crumb or trail. Not until Andy put Chuck on the case. They picked up Sam’s scent a few months back in Wyoming, of all places, but she was already in the wind and there was no sign Macy had been with her.

Maybe that played into his genealogy obsession. He wanted to be able to tell his daughter all about where they originated, that she was descended of the larger-than-life Vikings and that he couldn’t find any genetic anomalies for her to worry about when she grew up and wanted to start her own family. But mostly, he just wanted to sing her to sleep and get drunk on her laughter.Will she even know who I am or let me to sing to her if I find her now?

“Fuck!” Dax cursed as he threw the covers off and rose from the bed. Scrubbing his hands down his face, he paced, talking things out the whole time. Getting involved, or potentially involved, with Stacy brought a whole boatload of doubts, memories, and questions to the fore. For one, what would a commitment-phobe do if he brought a teenage daughter home? Would she bolt? John knew every detail about Sam and Macy; most of his friends did, but not Stacy. He never hid it, but a mention in passing here or there by him or another of the Reid clan wouldn’t dare do the situation justice.

The only reason he hadn’t launched into that particular story in detail was selfishness. He was afraid to spook her before she gave him a shot as more than just a friend, but now that this might actually happen, he needed to give her all the sordid details.What if she doesn’t think I’m worthy like Sam obviously did, what will I do then?

That self-posed query was the number one reason he had not highlighted the details. She knew he had a not-quite-ex and a kid, but she never asked for more and he never elaborated.Would she find him as inadequate as a partner and a potential father as Sam had?

Well, it was a question he had no choice but to seek the answer to, but damned if he wasn’t quaking in his boots.

Stacy was never far from his thoughts as he showered and hopped on his bike. The bike wasn’t his everyday mode of transport; he much preferred his classic rebuild. But today was a wind in your face kind of day and he had yet to fix the convertible top motor on the Camaro, so, his Panhead was up. On the ride to the shop, his mind toggled between Stacy and Macy.

He laughed out loud at a light, and the mini-van family in the next lane looked at him like he was deranged. He turned to the passenger and shouted over the engine, “They rhyme. They freaking rhyme.” As he shook his head, they not-so-subtly closed the window and stared at the red circle above them, willing it green.

Dax didn’t give two shits what they thought. He’d just had the best night of his life, Chuck was making progress, and he believed with all his heart that Stacy wanted all the things he did, he just needed to show her that she did.

Pulling up to his shop, Imagine Ink Tattoo Parlor, was always a satisfying experience. He built it with his bare hands, not just the building, but the business. Even with all his fancy-schmancy degrees, he chose to tattoo. There was something deeply personal about inking people that just drew him to the craft.

He parked next to Walker’s bike and made his way inside. With a deep inhale, a sense of rightness washed over him, just like it did every single time. The dude Walker was inking looked up with a nervous gaze. Dax was used to it. His presence was imposing, at best, but it never bothered him; he knew that as soon as people spent a few minutes with him, they relaxed and realized he wasn’t going to eat them.

“Well, well,” Walker looked up from the forearm he was working on, “look what the cat dragged in. Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you, can I have your liver?”

Dax was puzzled. “What are you about, Dubya?”

Walker returned needle to skin and concentration to the tattoo, and answered Dax with a smartass attitude and a smirk, but Dax knew there was genuine concern there. “Just that I did a lot of drinking back in the day, probably on borrowed time with that organ.” The client’s sharp intake and widening eyes brought Walker to halt. “No worries, man, I gave that shit up. You’re in good hands.” Walker reassured his client, dipped the gun and continued, both the tattoo and the conversation. “Like I said, lots of drinking, and since we are the same blood type, not to mention honorary family, I was hoping you’d hook me up. Let me call dibs on it.” When Dax failed to grasp the concept, Walker continued.

“I mean,” Walker indicated towards Dax’s head, “no helmet, must be you’ve decided to be a fucking organ donor sooner rather than later. Just thought I could get one.” Walker stopped with his client and made hard eye contact with Dax. “What the fuck are you thinking, man? I know you can ride without one, legally speaking, but why the fuck would you? You are one of the smartest motherfuckers I know, and that’s saying something since I’m a fucking genius, but damn you’re fuc…holy shit, you got laid. And by the looks of it, it was…”

“Don’t,” Dax growled, looking toward the client, then back to Walker. “A little decorum and professionalism would go a long way right now.” Dax wasn’t usually one to shut down touchy-feely-bro-time, but he couldn’t let Walker finish that statement. Not only did they have a client, he was speaking about Stacy like she was a piece of ass and Dax couldn’t allow that.

Walker looked properly cowed. He wasn’t one to be unprofessional as a rule, so Dax knew he would rein it in. “Sorry, man,” he directed at Dax. He then apologized to his client and continued to ink until he was done. Dax had no delusions that the conversation was over; he’d just bought himself a few minutes. And he was on the money, the door hadn’t even settled into place before Walker was on him.

“Okay, man, spill. I can tell it wasn’t just a pump and dump. And if I’m not mistaken, that can only mean one person, am I right?” Dax gave a slight nod and continued to set up his station.

“Fuck,” Walker said with an air of amazement. “Does she know how you feel? I mean, she has never struck me as the settle-down type, so you must be something in the sack if you changed her mind so quickly.” Dax wanted to wipe that smug look off Walker’s face. This kind of talk was nothing new between them, they always teased and joked, but it felt different when it concerned Stacy.

Dax turned back to his station when a hand landed on his shoulder, paused his preparations. He let out a slow, deep breath, and addressed what he assumed was on Walker’s mind. “I know it’s not ideal, especially for you, man. You gotta live with the fallout from Erika, b…”

“Whoa, man, you just landed your dream girl, the last thing you should care about is me, besides, she told me Francis handed her and Tori their asses at the barbecue about that. Erika admitted she was wrong, which is historical, by the way. So, you can stop worrying about everyone else and focus on Stacy.” Walker moved back to stage his area and continued. “So, when’s the wedding?”

Turning his attention toward his brother from another, Dax leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. He really needed to work through it with someone, and since Walker was here and a damn good friend, Dax just let it all out. “Real funny, you know that’s not going to happen, especially not anytime soon. Besides, I don’t need a piece of paper or a white dress ceremony to make her mine. She cares for me, I can feel it deep down. I might even go as far as to say she does or can love me, but she pulls back on purpose. She’s terrified of losing herself to me and I know it has something to do with the asshole ex, but I don’t know what. How can I fight when I don’t know the enemy, so to speak? I can’t combat against the unknown.”

Dax was lost in thought, trying to work it out in his head, when he felt a slight slap against his chest. Looking down, he saw a sealed manila envelope and Walker holding it against him. Throwing a shocked look at Walker earned him an eye roll.

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