Page 40 of Inked Daddies

Stability. A future. Someone who wasn’t so tangled up in his own baggage that he couldn’t see past the next day. I’m a rock, sure, but I’ll never have a normal life. I’ve never wanted the white picket fence or the two-point-five kids or the newest car or any of that. I’m the guy you call in a pinch, not the one you walk down the aisle with.

And for years, I told myself I was fine with that. Hookups are great. Not everyone gets the family dinners or coaching the kids’soccer team to victory or the soft laughter of someone waiting for you at home.

Not everyone is meant for that kind of life, and that’s okay.

I’ve always told myself I’m not that guy.

But Marie makes me want to believe otherwise.

It’s not just that she’s beautiful—though God knows she is. It’s the way sheis.How she smiles when she’s nervous like she can’t help herself. The way she talks about books, her voice soft and full of wonder and reverence. The way she laughs, so light and unguarded that it feels like it was made just for me.

And the way she looks at me…

It’s not just shy glances or fleeting smiles. There’s something else there, something real and warm andhers.It’s like she calls to the person I am beyond my baggage, and I don’t know what to make of it.

I could imagine waking up to that laugh, to that smile. I could imagine her sitting at the kitchen table in the morning, sipping coffee and telling me about the latest book she’s reading. I can see it all. How we’d cuddle up to watch a movie, or go for walks in the park. Holding her long into the night. Listening to her breathe as she dreams.

But I don’t know if she can picture it, and that’s the part that keeps me out here, staring at the stars like they’ll somehow give me the answer.

The shop door creaks open, and for a second, I think about going back inside. But I don’t. Not yet. I need a minute. Not to think—I’ve done enough of that. But to settle. To remind myself that this isn’t just about me and what I want.

It’s about her. About the guys.

Because if she doesn’t want more than this—if this is just a fling for her, something fun and fleeting—I don’t know if I can handle that. Not because I’d be mad or hurt or even disappointed.

But because I don’t want to put this on her. I don’t want her to feel like she owes us anything, like she has to give us more than she’s ready to give. She’s too kind, too soft, toogoodfor that.

So if that’s all this is to her, we have to let it be enough. I’ll burn for it, but I won’t lay my burdens on her. Not now, not ever. It’s bad enough that I have them.

But God, if she wants more…if there’s even the slightest chance she’s open to it…

I don’t think I’d ever let her go.

The sound of her giggle floats through the door, light and musical, and my chest tightens all over again. It’s a good sound. A sound I wasn’t sure I’d ever hear again after what happened the other night.

I know what trauma does to people. I know how it hollows you out, makes you afraid to laugh, afraid to trust, afraid tolive.I’ve seen it too many times in the mirror.

But not her. Marie is still laughing, still smiling, still soft.

And that makes me want to protect her even more. Not just from the world, but from myself too. I want her to stay soft and good and pure. I need to preserve some of that in the world. Isn’t that what life is about? Protecting the good in it?

What if I fuck this up? Or Trick or Hugo does? What then? Does she understand what this means to us? Does that even matter?

No way to find out while I’m alone out here. I take a deep breath, push off the wall, and walk back inside.

The hum of the fluorescent lights greets me first, followed by the sound of Trick’s voice, low and teasing. Hugo is laughing softly, and when I step into the back room, I see her sitting in the chair, her hair a little messy, her cheeks flushed.

She’s smiling. Not just smiling—beaming.

And when she looks at me, that smile shifts, softens, and suddenly it’s not just a smile. It’s something bigger. Something brighter. “There you are.”

She sees me, and she’s not afraid of what she sees. It’s that acceptance that rocks me to my core. I always thought that if a woman saw me go to town on some asshole, she’d run screaming from me, and I wouldn’t blame her, because why would she want someone who could do that?

But Marie ain’t like that. She knows what I am, and she’s still here.

And just like that, I’m free-falling all over again. Because that smile? It’s a smile that says, “I’m so happy you came back.” It hits me square in the chest, knocking the air out of me like a punch I didn’t see coming.

It’s the kind of smile that is pure trouble and makes you want to ask a thousand questions:Do you know how beautiful you are? Do you know what you mean to me? Do you want more than this?

---