Page 69 of Replay
The bathroom door slams shut and I lock it. Hawke is there, pounding on it, threatening to smash it down. I don’t have much time and I need to see. I need to know, because knowing Hawke,the one on my finger isn’t the only one I was gifted. I turn to the left and I see it. High, in the middle of my right butt cheek is another tattoo.
The door flies open, and my boyfriend stands there, chest heaving and eyes narrowed. “You don’t get to lock me out, Emmarys.”
“You’re out of your mind, Hawke, if you think that this is okay. How did you do it? I wouldn’t have slept through either of these,” I yell at him, my voice sounding almost hysterical.
My eyes run over the tattoo again, taking in the King’s crown with violets weaved between the jagged points. It's beautiful really, and if I had the choice to choose it, I might feel differently. But knowing it was put there while I didn’t know it was happening, and that fact that it matches Hawke’s almost feels like a brand. A burst of heat flows through me and my heart clenches. I close my eyes, unable to look at myself in the mirror, fearing what I know I may see. There is no way I can actually like this except that I do. As the anger fades, that dark possessive streak for my boyfriend surfaces. It likes carrying his mark. It likes knowing that others can see I belong to him. He tattooed my wedding ring finger.
Hawke crowds me against the counter, his big body right in front of me. His hands land on my hips and he sets me on the counter. I hiss out a sharp breath as my flesh connects with the cold tiles, but it also feels good on the pain. Hawke’s hands cradle my face, pulling my attention to him.
“You made the bet, sweetheart, and I came to collect. I have pain meds waiting for you next to your plate so you can take them with food. After we’re done, I’ll clean them up for you, and provide the care they need,” he explains as if talking to someone looking for directions when they’re lost.
“It's not just about losing the bet, Hawke. You branded me, and this...” I wave my finger in front of his face. “This is forever. My ring finger is permanently marked.”
His icy green eyes darken and he shoves my legs apart, moving to stand between them, pressing my back into the mirror, and forcing me to look up at him. “Fucking right, it’s permanently marked, sugar. By me. You. Are. Mine. Not just my ring that will go there someday, but my name will always be there for everyone to see, which is way moreforeverthan a diamond band.”
I shake my head, fighting to hold onto my anger, hating my heart for indulging in this, loving the way he claimed me. “Aren’t couple tattoos a bad omen or something? What if you just doomed our relationship this way.”
Hawke smirks. “I’ve been marked with you, us, our relationship for years, Em. And now I have you, and we’re together, with a future ahead of us that we’re just starting, there is nothing that can tear us apart.”
He leans in, his nose brushing against my neck, his lips moving along my jaw and under my chin. Our eyes meet before he presses his lips to mine, kissing me hungrily. I pull back, and he groans from the loss of his lips on mine.
“How did you do it, Hawke?”
He’s breathing hard and presses his forehead to mine. “It was just a sleeping pill. The correct dosage for you. You weren’t drugged. It was just enough to keep you sleeping so you didn’t feel the pain.”
I scoff and try to push him back to give me room again. “I wasn’t drugged so that makes it okay to you? You’ve upgraded from being a stalker to a damn psycho.”
He has the audacity to laugh, and then he’s in my space again, his right hand on my neck. He squeezes and it's enough to get my attention, my hands gripping his arm. “You have no idea,Em. But since you like my possessive side and since I know as well as you do that there’s a little part of you that is enjoying this, you should know I wouldn’t do this half-assed. Our obsession matches, sweets.”
Hawke holds up his left hand, and on his ring finger is the same scroll with my name on it. My stomach tightens and tingles spread all over my body. He grins at the expression on my face before pulling away, his hand dropping, and he lifts his shirt off over his head. Right across the middle of his chest is my name again in dark, bold, letters that look all at once beautiful and masculine.
“Hawke.”
“I’m yours, Emmarys. Every twisted, possessive, stalkerish part of me. I love you. I will love you in this life and the next, forever. You gave me everything when you gave me a second chance. I won’t ever let you go again,” he vows, and my resolve melts for him.
I want to kiss him. I want him to take me back to bed. Instead, my stomach growls loudly and we both glance down. “What are we celebrating again?”
“That you are officially moving in,” he answers right away, lifting me off the counter and carrying me bridal style back to the kitchen. “Let me feed you, woman. Then we can make more plans for our future.”
I shouldn’t like the sound of that, but I do. Glancing down at my ring finger, I realize that is growing on me too.
“I love you, Hawke,” I tell him.
“I’ve always loved you, Emmarys. Always.”
epilogue i
Emma, One year later…
“For their first-round pick, the 10th overall pick of the draft, the Tennessee Blue Devils choose…from Michigan, Quarterback, Hawke Sheppard!”
Cheers and screams go off around us, where our group of friends and close family have gathered for draft night to celebrate Hawke. He wanted to stay in Michigan for the draft instead of going back to his family home in Texas, so we rented a party room at a local bar and restaurant instead. It was cozy and intimate, with just enough room for the people most important to him. He took the phone call a few minutes ago and accepted the pick over the phone. While this appears new to viewers and the audience watching, we’ve known for a while which team would be focusing on Hawke.
Everyone is celebrating; there is a camera on us, but I barely notice as I’m lifted off the ground, my body held tight in his arms. Once I’m back on my feet, Hawke pulls a Tennessee hat out and puts it on his head, before taking my face between his hands and kissing me. Our families are present, which forceshim to keep it pretty tame. Which is a shame, because I am ready to climb my man. He has worked hard to get to this point. I’m so proud of him and all that he’s accomplished.
Hawke has known since high school that he wanted to play in the NFL. Once our relationship became stable and strong after last year, he buckled down and went about completing his plans for finishing college with his degree then entering the draft. He led Michigan to two National Championships and gave the team a kick-start for the next season without him, hopefully helping them keep on track for another successful year.
I have one year left of school now, and even knowing that we plan to make long distance work for one year, I’m nervous. Professional football is different from college football. We’ve survived the media and adversity around campus and I’m hoping we can continue it into the next year until I can officially be with Hawke in the home he bought for us in Tennessee. I love the house and I love the plans and dreams we have for our future there. Hawke has never gone back on his promises to me and I trust him with both my heart and my soul.
