She moves silently, sitting on the side of the bath. “It’s a tattoo,” she says, her voice so faint I can barely hear her.
“I gathered that. Why the reaction?”
She looks down at it, rubbing it with her thumb. I don’t know whether to move closer or back off, but she looks so hopeless.
I bend down, crouching in front of her. “You don’t ever have to hide things from me, ever.”
She nods. “I usually have it covered with heavy makeup, or my cuff. When I got in the shower… I wasn’t thinking.”
I let her talk, not wanting to fill the silence with words when it’s clear she has things to say.
I do not, however, expect the next words out of her mouth.
“It’s a brand.” She drops her head. “Whatever you want to call it.”
I frown. “A brand?”
“Yes. Vince, he?—”
“He branded you with a tattoo?”
“Yes, it’s the church’s logo. It bound me to him, to the church.”
What in the actual fuck?
I swallow hard. “Why didn’t you have it removed?”
“I wanted to,” she starts. “Then I got scared it would fuck up and look weird.”
“But you know I tattoo people for a livin’.”
“I do. I didn’t want to burden you with it.” It almost sounds like a protest. “And in any case, I was embarrassed.”
“You’re never a burden.” Man, this pains me to say. “So you’ve been coverin’ this up for years?”
She shrugs. “I always planned on getting around to it, but to be honest…” She takes a noticeable intake of breath, which in turn has my blood boiling at the jerk who did this. “I really hate needles.”
I don’t understand, until this moment, the power that this asshole really had over her. He fuckin’ branded her with his own tattoo? I try to keep my cool, but it’s hard for me. The temper boiling inside of me feels nuclear.
“I wish you told me? You can opt for laser removal if you don't want a cover up.”
She shrugs, her eyes daze off into the distance looking lost for a moment. “I honestly don’t know. Maybe a part of me was holding onto that old life, ya know? Even though it was toxic,and the worst time in my life, maybe I couldn’t really let go because the pain reminds me how far I’ve come.”
“How can you look at that and not see him?” I don’t want to sound like an ass, but I need to know.
“I’ve been covering it for years, but that’s no excuse. I guess I figured one day I’d pluck up the courage to ask you.”
I pique an eyebrow. “You’d let me?” It brings up that whole ass tattoo thing, and here I was thinking that was cute. Now I know she’d never have done it sober because she hates needles.
“I would.” She swallows hard. “I’m sorry, I’m failing miserably at being a best friend.”
“You’re not,” I say, though the secrets hit hard. “But you’re keepin’ shit from me that you don’t need to. I can lessen the burden if you’d just let me. If you want it removed, I’ll give you the money so you don’t ever have to see it again.”
Her eyes fill with tears and then a sob escapes her. I feel it right down to my toes as her shoulders shake. She garbles something, but I don’t understand the words.
Instead, I pull her into my arms and hug her tight. “Nobody is ever gonna hurt you again,” I assure her. “I promise. Whatever you wanna do with the tattoo is fine. You don’t have to do anythin’, but I think it would be less of a reminder if we covered it up. Do you trust me?”
She bobs her head, her arms around my neck. “Of course I trust you, Bronc, you’re amazing. I think deep down I’m always second guessing myself in case I make someone mad. It’s like a subconscious thing. It didn’t take much to set Vince off?—”