Page 180 of Love Me Stalk Me
"Tell me about them?" I ask, curiosity winning over hesitation.
A low sound rumbles through his chest, like he wasn't expecting the question. "Hmm?"
"Your tattoos," I clarify, fingers still moving over the ink. "Can you tell me what the designs are? What they mean to you?" I hesitate. "If that's not too personal."
He turns slightly, looking down at me. And then he says words that make my heart clench: "Nothing's too personal with you, Izzy."
I swallow hard, my fingers pausing on his skin. "I won't ever keep secrets from you," he continues, his hand flexing slightly where it rests against me. "Anything you want to know, just ask."
I nod, tucking my head against his shoulder, letting my fingers resume their path. He lifts his arm, angling it so I can see, so I can map the designs with my eyes as well as my touch.
"This one," he starts, tapping a section of ink that stretches from his wrist to his elbow, "is for my unit. The insignia, the coordinates of where we were stationed. A couple of guys got it before deployment, a couple after. Some of them never got the chance."His voice dips slightly at that last part, and I don't press.
Instead, I let my fingers move further up, tracing another pattern. "And this?"
He exhales, the tension in his chest loosening as he follows my touch. "That one's for my mom."
His hand covers mine, pressing it flat against the ink. "She used to hum this song when I was little," he says. "When I was sick, when I couldn't sleep. I don't remember the lyrics, but I remember the melody." He tilts his forearm toward me. "The notes are here. I had someone translate them onto a staff." A pause. "It's not perfect, but it's close enough."
I try and fight the tears threatening to well in my eyes. That's... God. That's the most beautiful fucking tribute I've ever heard. I let my fingers glide over the ink, pressing my palm against it like I'm holding a sacred memory.
My hand drifts back to his dog tags, gently running over the embossed letters. The metal is cool and smooth beneath my touch. "And these?" I ask softly. "Do you always wear them?"
Cal is quiet for a long moment, his chest rising and falling beneath my palm. I can feel his heartbeat quicken slightly. "Since the day I enlisted," he finally says. "Never took them off."
I notice a shift in his expression, a decision being made. He sits up slightly, his movements slow as he reaches behind his neck. The chain makes a soft metallic sound as he unclasps it. "Until now," he says, voice rough with emotion.
My breath catches as he takes my hand, placing the metal against my palm, closing my fingers around it. The tags are still warm from his body, the metal smooth where it's been worn by years of constant contact with his skin. "Cal..." I start, not sure what to say or what this means.
"I've been carrying these for a decade," he says, eyes never leaving mine. "And with them, who I was, what I've done, what I've seen." His fingers brush my cheek, tender in a way that makes my chest ache. "These tags were a reminder that I couldn't move forward because I couldn't put the past behind me."
He swallows hard. "But I don't need to put it behind me anymore. I just need to put it somewhere safe." His fingers tighten gently around mine. "With someone I trust."
I stare at him, at the way his eyes hold mine like they mean it, at the quiet openness written across his face. "You sure about this?" I whisper, understanding the enormity of what he's offering.
His lips curve slightly, certainty radiating from him. "More sure than I've been about anything in a long time." He leans in, pressing his forehead against mine. "Keep them safefor me, pretty girl."
With shaking hands, I slip the chain over my head, feeling them settle against my chest. They're heavier than I expected, both physically and in what they represent. My fingers close around them, feeling the impression of his name, his blood type, his identity pressed into metal. "I will," I promise, knowing I'm promising so much more than just safeguarding a piece of metal.
His eyes darken as he looks at me, at his tags resting against my skin. Possessiveness and tenderness flash across his face. "Looks better on you anyway," he murmurs.
My fingers start absently tracing another of his tattoos, and then he chuckles. "I've got a lot of ink, Izzy." His lips curve slightly, teasing. "It'll take some time to go through them all."
I flash a grin, the reckless kind of idea already buzzing through me. I lift his forearm to my mouth and lick it.
His entire body goes rigid—eyes wide, muscles locking, breath catching hard in his chest.
I shrug, all fake innocence. "I meant what I said."
My fingers drift lower, trailing down his stomach, tracing another section of ink. "Although, looks like I've got a lot more to explore myself."
His fingers tighten against my side. And I start to wonder if maybe I broke him. Then he exhales, shaking his head, gripping me tight, and flips me onto my side. He tucks me into him, wrapping me up in his arms, pressing his lips to my temple. His body curves around mine, his larger frame enveloping my softer curves, creating a cocoon of warmth and security.
And then he mutters, "Go to sleep before I lose all control and fuck you to sleep instead."
I smile into his chest. And I fall asleep feeling safe.
KEEP HER SAFE, KEEP HER CLOSE, KEEP HER MINE
