Page 35 of Tattooed Love

“Thanks,” he repeated, getting to his feet; Cole was doing something he never did! Smiling, at me, surprisingly.

“So, can we say that the other guy looks worse?” I asked, trying to lighten the tension.

A small smirk appeared on his lips.

“He will sis,” he smiled, and then sent me a wink. My eyes darted over his tattoos.

“Who was it anyway?” I asked. “Wait.Don’t worry about that. Club Business, right? I actually knew a lot about bikers, and I knew they weren’t about to tell me who did that to Cole, but if I really wanted to know who had shot Cole, all I would need to do was to make a phone call.

I was actually just as well connected as they were, and my contacts always did give me information, because, well, they knew what happened when they didn’t tell me.

Tyler let out a deep chuckle. “You are so full of surprises little one.” I sent him a wink and turned my attention to Jax. I noticed how he was clenching his fist on his side.

“I’m heading to bed. We can deal with this in the morning,” Troy stated. I didn’t pull my eyes away from Jax; I noticed how he nodded his head slightly in response to Troy.

Within a few minutes, all my brothers had left, leaving Jax and me alone.

“What happened to your side?” I answered quietly.

His head whipped up at the sound of my voice, and his haunting gray eyes met mine.

Clearly, he was surprised I was still here, had he thought I’d left?

“Flesh wound,” he mumbled.

I nodded my head slowly, stood up from my chair, and went to stand next to him.

“May I?” I asked as my hands lingered near the bottom of his jumper.

He didn’t respond and I took a step back.

Perhaps I had been too bold. Hell, it wasn’t like Jax and I were friends.

But then Jax removed his vest and pulled off his jumper and t-shirt, flinching as the fabric touched his injury.

As he sat there on the stool, bare-chested, I wanted to run my fingers over his amazingly toned body.

As my eyes landed on his injury, my jaw tightened.

It wasn’t just a flesh wound.

It was a gaping knife cut, one that ran right down his side.

“Some flesh wound,” I muttered sarcastically.

How could he have just sat there this whole time?

“Had worse,” he responded.

I stood awkwardly next to him.

My legs brushed against his jeans, and I was suddenly very aware of my short shorts and tank top.

I cleared my throat and took a step back, reaching for my case.

“Well, it looks like I get to demonstrate my stitching skills again,” I said, clearly with a fake smile because there was no situation that could occur, where I would be giving Jackson a real smile.

Now, all I needed was to manage to keep my fingers steady enough to sew his flesh back together.

---