Page 79 of Mistaken Identity
And especially not with this man.
All my fears and concerns felt nonexistent when it came to him.
“One right here,” he said as he let one of my hips go to show me his hand. “This happened the night you started hating me.”
I closed my eyes, and carefully dropped my face down against his neck, his collarbone pressing against my lips.
“I’m so sorry, Audi,” I breathed.
“And this one.” He picked up one of my hands and pressed it against his chest, right over his heart. “While not a scar, I got it for you.”
My head picked up, and I stared at it for a long time before I said, “What? What does it mean?”
Then the yellow ribbon started to become more pronounced the longer I looked at his chest.
The tattoo I’d seen when he’d first taken his shirt off of an owl’s face, with the owl’s wing stretched out over his shoulder, was holding a yellow ribbon.
A ribbon that signified leukemia.
And when I leaned in closer, there was a date.
Or, more importantly, a date of birth, and a date of death.
My baby’s.
“Audi…” I breathed.
“Got your mom in here, too.” He pointed at another ribbon that I hadn’t seen. This one in the owl’s claws.
A bright pink one that I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen until now.
Shit.
I looked up at him, my eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry I was s-so mad at you.”
He wrapped his arms around me, his hands going so far around that his fingers were pressing against my ribs on the front side.
“I think if anyone has a right to be mad, it’s you,” he whispered against my forehead. “One day, we’ll look back at that time, and see it for what it was—a bump in the road. But until then, we’re going to fake it ’til we make it.”
I giggled, pulling back so I could see his face. “I love you, you know.”
He wiped away my tears with his big, rough, working-man hands.
God, he was so damn sexy.
“You ready to see my scar now?” I asked, tasting the salt of my tears on my lips.
His eyes were on fire, so damn green it hurt, when he said, “You can show me your toe bunion, and I’d be so goddamn happy.”
I gasped. “That was one time, Audric!”
He laughed, his arms tightening around me.
I waited until he was finished with his guffawing, then stood up.
His hands were reluctant to let me go, and even though I’d moved off his lap, his fingers still lingered at my thighs, ready to touch me again if I moved even an inch.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed off my high-rise panties, revealing the ugly scar there.
