Page 79 of Giving In

I shrug. I usually would want to avoid it. How do you explain to someone that your dad died, and your brother disappeared? That even three years later, your mom can’t get herself to have a funeral and that deep in your heart you know he’s still alive. I don’t want tonottalk about it with him, but I won’t jump on the explanation. However, I’ve never felt in a more trustful environment than with him.

“That’s up to you. It’s not a pretty story,” I simply reply.

It’s not my right to impose my dramatic story onto him. He seems to think about it for a few seconds, as if he is truly weighing if he wants to know that part of me or not. People are usually desperate to know. They love the gossip; they love being in the know. More than that, it’s some sort of dirty pleasure in knowing atypical stories.

“What happened?” he asks after a few seconds of reflection.

“They were shot. By gang members. My dad was the Sheriff here in Stoneview. As far as I know, he tried to take them down. They didn’t appreciate it. I was there when it happened.”

“You were?”

I pull down the sleeve of my shirt over my left shoulder and show him my scar. His mouth falls slack as soon as his eyes land on the bit of thick skin.

“I know, it’s ugly. Aaron, my brother, he tried to shield me from the bullet. It went straight through him and lodged into my shoulder. He literally took a bullet for me.” My throat tightens as I finish my sentence. “When the ambulance showed up, they thought I was dead. I woke up in the hospital. Dad didn’t survive. I asked about my brother, but they said there were only me and my dad at the scene when they arrived.”

He slowly raises his hand and grazes his thumb over my scar. I don’t flinch. For the first time in years, it doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t burn. He’s soothing me with his gentle touch. He tenderly grabs my shoulder in his hand.

“It’s not ugly Jamie, it shows you’re a survivor. It shows you’ve been through the worst and still came back stronger. You’re a warrior,” he smiles.

I can’t help but smile back. As we were talking, we slid closer to each other on the sofa. I now have one leg bent on the sofa, fully turned to him, and the other dangling over the edge.

“You really know how to find just the right words, don’t you?” I question with a smile.

He shrugs. “It’s easy to find the right words when I’m facing someone like you. And I know what it’s like to wear ugly scars.”

My mouth falls. “Really?”

He lifts his shirt up to his chest and... holy Mary mother of God. He isripped. Every single one of his abs is defined without him looking big like Chris does. He is completely covered in tattoos all the way to his chest. It stops perfectly at the neck of his top and I wouldn’t know they were there if he wasn’t purposely showing them with short sleeves or open buttons. He must be covered with hundreds of them.

There are a few scars over his stomach and, as I look up, I see a round, thick patch of skin just below his chest, around his solar plexus. It’s bigger than the other scars and darker than his golden, tanned skin. It’s surrounded by a beautiful black rose, the thorns making it look like they’ve cut into him and some drops of bright red blood leaking from one of the thorns. It’s elegantly done and powerful. This man is pure art.

“What happened,” I whisper as I run my fingers above the scars. I didn’t ask, I don’t even care what he thinks of me right now. I feel compelled by him. We’re sharing stories, what we’ve been through, and I’ve never felt closer to someone.

His voice is darker when he replies, “Abusive father.”

I look up from his body and back into his eyes. We share a long, comfortable silence.

Kiss me.

He slowly leans towards me, grabs the back of my head, and plants his lips on mine.

Did I say this out loud? Or are we just on the same page that badly?

I part my lips when I feel his tongue and let him take control. He’s the perfect balance between passionate and loving. Controlling and gentle.

I push toward him as he lays back and I end up on top of him, straddling him, my legs on either side of his waist. I lean in, grabbing his face with both my hands as he grabs my waist with his.

After a few seconds of fiery passion, he pulls his head away slightly and I breathe in, not realizing I was suffocating with devotion.

“We...we should slow down,” he says out of breath.

My eyes open wide and I question him with a look.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d want nothing more than to keep going but I don’t want to do this like...this. You’ve just opened yourself to me. We have all the time in the world to get to know each other.”

I’m suddenly very aware of the bulge under me and sit back down next to him as he straightens up. I eye down at his crotch and he quickly grabs a pillow, placing it on his lap.

“Does this prove I’m interested? I just want to take things slow,” he chuckles, and I can’t help but laugh.

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