Page 64 of Forever Yours

I still had nightmares about what Marshall did to him on the soccer field. Julien’s leg had healed, but the scars that remained would forever be a reminder of that asshole. And what happened to me at Belly’s—Marshall may not have been the one delivering the punches, but he was responsible for them.

“What happened?”

“I can explain.”

Julien’s look of abject guilt had me pausing. It was the same look I saw yesterday in the hospital when Fallon and I realized they had been drinking.

Apprehension coiled tightly.

“What is that?”

Because the longer I looked at it, the more it resembled a tattoo. Something that wasn’t there two days ago.

“I can explain.”

Why did he have to sound so guilty?

“You already said that. Don’t do that,” I said when he tried to cover it with his towel.

I stepped closer, my eyes working to decipher the ink on his chest. Black script that spelled outElizabeth Penelope Fairchildwith four tiny hearts interwoven through the scrolled letters.

He had Liz’s name inked on his skin, right above his heart.What. The. Fuck.

“It’s not what you think.”

On the contrary. I was looking at it, and it was exactly what I thought.

Panicked, Julien wrapped the towel around his waist and tried to reach for my hand, but I smacked it away. I didn’t mean to hit him, but I was fucking livid.

Trying to rein in my rage, I asked, “You got that last night?”

Julien dug himself further into a metaphorical grave when he rambled, “Jay and Ry got one, too. Ry contacted me after I finished practice. He wasn’t doing good. We met up with him at the bar and things just… we drank too much. I don’t know how we wound up next door at the tattoo parlor.”

That’s why he wasn’t answering his phone? He was off drinking and getting a tattoo of Liz’s name permanently etched into his chest while I was getting the shit beat out of me. While I was lying in the hospital, afraid and hurting and needing him.

I wasn’t upset about the tattoo. I was upset that he didn’t talk to me about it first. He had never mentioned wanting to get one before. It was a big deal, at least to me. I would have liked to have been there with him. Shared that first with him.

But most of all, I was upset that it washername he chose. From that day forward, whenever he took off his shirt or when we made love, it would be Liz’s name I would see on his body. A body that should have belonged to only me. My marks on his skin left by my lips and my hands.

It was another glaring reminder that no matter how much he proclaimed to loveme, he would always lovehermore.

And I was fucking done with coming in second.

I knew if I opened my mouth, things were going to get very ugly. Julien and I argued like a normal couple, but we had only been in one fight that almost broke us up—the New Year’s Eve blowup. I never wanted to repeat that experience again. I spent a week feeling like every day my heart was literally tearing itself apart.

I needed time to cool off and think. Lick my wounds and figure things out. I needed to get out of there. Hopefully, Ryder could drive me to Dad’s hotel.

My abused muscles screamed when I lifted the duffel Ash left on the bed that had my things and started to walk out.

“What are you doing?”

I kept walking.

“E, where are you going?”

“I’m going to go stay with Dad at the hotel.”

“The hell you are. Shit,” he exclaimed when his towel unraveled and tripped him.

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