Page 75 of Fractured Grief
“I know.” I couldn’t help the smile that broke across my face or the warmth that danced in my heart. “Recovery has been hard, but they are pure sunshine. I wouldn’t like to get shot again, but the fact that the situation brought me Indy is something I could never fault. He’s it for me,” I whispered those last words, knowing with my whole heart, they were true.
“I’m so happy for you, adelfós. I’m so glad you’ve found him.” The air around us felt heavy with the weight of his words. “Pa would have loved him and Hazel.”
“You think?” I wish Pa had a chance to meet Indy, Hazel, and even Bodhi. To see any of us settle down and find happiness. For him to become a pappoús.
“Of course, man. You said it yourself. He’s pure sunshine and positivity. Ma already loves them. You think Pa would have been any different?”
“I guess not.” I turned to face my brother. “I miss him.” The words didn’t feel like enough. Of course, I missed him. He was my father, my idol, my best friend, my mentor.
“Me too. Every day,” Lyric’s breath left him in a woosh.
I tried not to dwell on the first year or two after we lost Pa. I fell apart; we all did. It still haunted me. It took me ages to get the prone form of how I’d found him out of my head. His lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling.
“You know we’d help you face it, right?” Lyric’s voice was like a jolt to my system as I’d zoned out. “We’d help you with the workshop and Pontiac, too.”
I absently rubbed over my side, where my ruined tattoo was. The bullet had nicked my liver, and the surgeons had had to cut through my tattoo to get the bullet and stop me from bleeding out. Now my Pontiac, Hope’s Ridge, and Orion constellation tattoo was bisected with scars, stitches, and uneven flesh. The more I thought about the damage, the more nauseous I felt.
“You okay?” Lyric asked cautiously.
“Yeah,” I croaked out. “Just need a sec.”
Thankfully, Indy and Hazel were exiting my room as I made my way to my bathroom. I sent Indy a nod as I passed, needing a moment to gather myself. He flashed me a worried look but followed Hazel as she bounded over to Lyric, book in hand.
I hurried into the bathroom and braced myself in front of the counter, breathing deeply. I thought about Levi’s CBT instructions and noted five things I could see, touch, and so on. Once I’d calmed my nausea, I slowly lifted my Henley, my hands shaking as I revealed the still-angry scars and my damaged tattoo. I flung my shirt off and gazed at myself in the vanity mirror. I ran my hands over the area. The Pontiac and mountain range of Hope’s Ridge wereslashed, broken, and distorted; nearly unrecognizable. But, not fully aware and not in a state of panic and despair, I noticed the Orion constellation, which represented my Pa, was undamaged.
My heart beat double time as I reverently traced the stars at the highest point of the tattoo just under my right pec, across my ribs. It had been over three years, and while this tattoo had been a tribute to my Pa, the fact that the constellation was undamaged and the fact that I hadn’t been able to notice before now, nearly brought me to my knees.
Silent tears tracked down my cheeks. He was okay. I was okay.
He was gone and I missed him fiercely, but he lived on, as a tribute on my skin, in my blood, and that of my brothers. He was always a part of us. It felt like something had changed. He was pushing me to face my grief.
I was so caught up staring at my scars, I didn’t hear Indy join me in the bathroom. His soft hands traced reverently over my back.
“You okay?” he asked, embracing me from behind.
I really thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, I think so,” I said as I turned in his arms. “I’m sure it was in my notes about my damaged tattoo and how I reacted, but I’d never taken the time to fully look at it. I was so stuck on the damage and pain; I kept it covered and ignored it as best I could. But now, I can finally see that my Pa’s okay.” My mouth lifted in a sad smile as tears continued to flowdown my cheeks. Sadness, relief, and acceptance churned inside me.
Indy reached up to wipe my tears away and caressed my beard. “Your Pa?”
“Let me show you.” I reached for his hand and brought it to the constellation. Moving his fingers over each star that made up Pa’s namesake. “This is the layout of the Orion constellation, which was Pa’s name in the stars.” I moved his hand down, closing my eyes at the sensitive touch to my scars and trying to visualize the tattoo’s layout before its destruction. “These were the mountains and lookout of Hope’s Ridge, which Pa and I would hike every week.” I moved his fingers down over my side, last rib, and to my stomach, then down to my pants edge. “And this was the 1964 Pontiac Tempest Convertible on the winding road into Hope’s Ridge. We were in the middle of restoring it when he died. It was his dream to find and restore this model.”
Having Indy’s gentle hands on my tattoo healed something inside of me. His touch made my skin come alive. I hated anyone touching or going near my scars, even to change the bandages. He was the only one, and for him to be touching those scars without any reaction or anger felt like a reverent moment.
I blinked my eyes open to find him gazing up at me, love shining in those pretty, multi-colored irises.
“Seb,” his voice broke on my name. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I’m honored.”
“Thank you for being my sunshine.” I was nearly overwhelmed by my love for this man. I needed him more than I’d ever thought possible. “My sunshine.”
Not wasting any more time, I leaned down and kissed him, vowing to show him just how much he’d come to mean to me.
Chapter 38
Indy
Iwas still reeling from all that Seb had revealed, both emotionally and physically. He’d allowed me to touch his tattoo and scars. I remembered being told, reading all the notes, and warned about how volatile his reactions were when someone touched or redressed his wounds. He’d never seemed that way with me, but I’d also never tried to touch the area or had to change the bandages. The fact that he’s let me touch his bare skin humbled me. The trust this man had in me, the care, the love, I was nearly overcome.
Feeling the raised and puckered skin, the still-healing red lines, the curves and artistry of the tattoo did something to me. He’d been through so much; he’d survived.
