Page 73 of Don't Say You're Sorry

He laughs and frees me from the headboard.

“Your parents’ divorce wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?”

I look up at Easton. I’m on my front between his legs. We’re still naked on his bed, plugged full of each other’s cum, and I’m drawing on his chest with the pen I found on his nightstand. Drawing helps when I’m anxious, but I was too lazy to go to my room to get my iPad or a sketchbook, so I’m using his body as my canvas.

“Axel made me promise not to tell our mum, and I did it anyway,” I remind him.

He nods thoughtfully. “What if it had been you?”

“What?”

“What if your dad had hit you instead of Axel that day? Would he have told you not to tell?”

I hesitate. I never thought of it like that. “No, he wouldn’t have,” I say begrudgingly.

“No,” he agrees. “He would have done right by you, just like you did right by him. You protected him. And your mom. You did the right thing, baby.”

“Still. You didn’t see how broken she was after she kicked him out. It went on for months. She lost everything, Easton.” I clear my throat and look back down at his chest, continuing to draw. “Axel’s right. I can’t do that to her again.”

He pauses. “Do you want to break up?”

I don’t give myself time to think about it, scared of what would happen if I did. “No.”

I still don’t look at him, but I don’t miss the slow breath he lets out. He doesn’t say anything for a long time after that.

“What does that say?” he asks, looking upside down at the word I just drew above his nipple. “Sunshine?”

I pull back to look at my masterpiece. Yeah, I guess it does.

“Sorry. I was just doodling. You wanna shower?”

“No.” He runs his finger beneath the ink. “I’m gonna get this tattooed.”

I laugh. He doesn’t. He’s not joking.

“You want one?” he asks. “Want my nickname and my mark on you forever?”

I barely hesitate. The only reason I don’t jump at the idea is because I’m terrified of needles. Still, I rise and climb onto his lap, straddling him. He takes the pen and writesSunshineon my chest, chewing his lip as he concentrates.

“Where are we gonna find a tattoo shop open on Christmas Day?”

“I know a guy,” he says distractedly.

I don’t like the sound of that.

I look down at my chest, watching as he slowly and carefully writes the last two letters.

Once he’s finished, he says, “Hey,” and lifts my chin with his knuckles. “You trust me, right? I’d never let anything bad happen to you. I promise.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and press my forehead against his.

Little do we know, it’s not him we have to worry about.I’mthe one who lets something bad happen tohim. I’m the one who breaks him. My sunshine.

CHAPTER 25

EASTON

Easton

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