Page 8 of Tattered
I watch as Nadia flashes me a wink as she turns and struts into the back room.
Focusing my attention back to Graham, we continue to chat about how things are going with the business, his move back home, and my dad’s funeral.
“How long are you planning on staying in town?”
“Honestly, I haven’t thought that far ahead. I never expected to come back here though either.”
“I hear ya there, man. I’ll be doing some hiring. I will need some help in getting shit up and running. If you end up deciding to stick around, give it some thought. I could use you and your experience.”
The job would be perfect, honestly. I haven’t considered what I will do when I get out of the army but this sounds right up my alley.
I promise to give it some thought and let him know when I figure out my plans. I know I’ll be sticking around for a little bit. I need to sort out what I’m going to do with my dad’s stuff. The house will need to be put on the market, because regardless of whether I am staying or going, I refuse to live in his house.
“I’m going to take a leak. I’ll be right back.” I really want to take a break from this conversation.
Sliding off the barstool, I round the end of the bar toward the long narrow hallway. Nearing the end of the bar, I’m surprised when I look up and see Ryan walk out of the back room I just saw Nadia disappear to. The second my eyes connect with hers, the wink Nadia gave me earlier makes sense.
“You’re followin’ me again.”
“Wouldn’t you love that, Rebel?” I joke, approaching her.
She leans against the wall. “Dream on.”
I can’t control the laugh at that point. She looks so fucking good now. She changed her clothes from when I last saw her. By the way her eyes rake over my body, she’s appreciating the change in my clothes as well. My eyes travel to the edge of her tank top, down to the exposed skin on her arm.
It’s as if my feet move on their own accord, taking me closer to her. I have no control over the pull between us. The urge to take in the ink covering her tan skin is too strong.
Our close proximity takes her off guard as I move to survey her tattoos. As soon as my eyes take in the vines covering her shoulder to the heart on her forearm, I feel like my heart is beating so hard it could pound damn near out of my chest. I recognize the heart etched permanently on her skin.
“Ryan,” I mutter close to her ear. She must be able to hear the question in my tone, as she moves to pull her hair over her other shoulder, giving me full access to her arm. Her throat bobs with her deep swallow before she turns her head up to peer at me.
I can’t help it; I reach my hand out and run my thumb over her skin to the tattered heart etched on her skin. I take in the intricate design, the barbwire and stitching holding it together. You’d think this was the first time I saw the artwork, but it’s not. I’ve stared at it many times, but never with her as the canvas.
“I can’t believe you...” I pause, not sure where I’m going with what I’m about to say next. My eyes travel up her arm to meet her eyes. I can see the hint of pain, but she quickly covers it up, locking her hard expression on her face. Her jaw clenches, holding back all the words she wants to say.
Leaning forward, I press a soft kiss against her skin. The action forces Ryan to take a step backward, only to push her back against the wall. I know I shouldn’t have done that, but I couldn’t help it.
“Will you tell me what this tattoo means to you, Ryan?”
I know she would never put something on her body permanently if it didn’t have meaning to it.
“It’s my reminder to be protective of your heart and to be careful who you give it to.”
“You don’t have to protect your heart around me. It’s been four years, Ryan, but there hasn’t been a single day that went by where I didn’t think about you. There wasn’t a minute when my body didn’t ache for you.”
“Why are you here?”
My eyebrows knit together. “I met up with Graham.”
“No—” she cuts me off. “I’m talking here, as in Everton. What are you doing here?”
“I got a call two days ago that my dad passed away. I came home for the funeral.”
Her throat moves as she swallows down whatever she was going to say next, obviously not expecting that as my response.
“Ryan,” I say before she holds her hand up stopping me.
“This can’t happen between us again. I can’t have you pushing your way back into my life.”
