God, I wish things between us weren’t like they are. I wish I would’ve never snuck out on him. I wish he could understand why I did and forgive me. “I’m sorry,” I blurt, and his head jerks back in surprise. “About what happened… I’m sorry about what happened.”
“I’m over it.” His jaw ticks. “Now tell me about your tattoo.”
Obviously, he’s not over it. Actually, I wonder if like me he’s been dwelling on it for days. “You might be over it, but I’m not,” I say quietly. “I hate that you’re mad at me. I wish I could change things, but I can’t. All I can say is I’m sorry for leaving like I did. You were right that it was immature, and—”
“Stop,” he grounds out, and I snap my mouth shut then bite my bottom lip. What the hell am I doing? “Why did you leave?” At his question, my body jerks and my muscles lock. I can’t possibly tell him why I left. “Tell me.”
“Why? It doesn’t even matter.” My heart starts to pound in my chest as he stares at me.
“I think you and I both know it does,” he says softly while his eyes scan my face. “Tell me.” Why did I open my mouth? “Tell me,” he repeats, and I pull in a breath, figuring it doesn’t matter if he knows now.
“My sister said she wanted you,” I admit, dropping my eyes from his to look at my hands still clasped in my lap. “She doesn’t. She just—”
“I don’t care about that. I care about why you snuck out of my bed without a word.”
“Can we not do this?” I question, peeking at him through my lashes. My heart is not just pounding against my rib cage anymore; it’s now thundering away while embarrassment creeps up my chest and neck, flooding my cheeks making them hot.
“I think you owe me some kind of explanation, since every fucking day for the last week I’ve woken up with you on my mind, a hard-on I can’t seem to get rid of, and your scent still clinging to my bed, even though I’ve washed my sheets three fucking times since you were in it.”
Is he serious? I lift my head to search his gaze.
“Why did you sneak out?”
God, I don’t want to tell him, but I need to. I need to get this over with so I can move on. So we can move on. “When my sisters and I were younger, we had a rule,” I start, and he cuts me off.
“Fuck me, let me guess.” He shakes his head. “If one of you was interested in a guy, none of you could approach him.”
“Basically,” I agree. I know if I caught a glimpse of myself right now, my chest and face would be bright red.
“You came home with me,” he states.
“I know.”
“So you coming home with me was about what? About you rebelling against your sister?”
“No!” I almost shout. No way do I want him to think I went home with him just because of April.
“Then why?”
“When I first saw you—” I stop and press my lips together, and then close my eyes and finish. “—there was something about you, and when April said she wanted you, I got mad. I was mad that she saw you first. Mad that I was going to miss out on something, even if I didn’t know what that something was.”My throat gets tight.
“You snuck out.”
“I know.”
“Look at me, babe,” he orders, and my eyes open. “I should not have said what I said to you over text.” My lips part at his admission. “I’ve wanted to call you every fucking day to apologize. I didn’t, but I should have. If you can forgive me for that, I can forgive you for what happened.”
“You were right to be mad. I would have been too,” I say softly, and his eyes flash with some kind of emotion that is there and gone way too quickly for me to read. “But I am really sorry.”
“It’s all good.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, babe.” He leans back. “Now, tell me about your tattoo.”
I study him for a moment, trying to understand why I still feel this heavy weight in my stomach, the one that’s been there since I read his text. It should be gone now that we talked and after he accepted my apology, but it isn’t.
Figuring the best course of action is to get this over with so we can both go our separate ways, I explain the tattoo then sit back and watch him create magic with a pencil. Forty minutes later, we say goodbye, and a part of me knows it will be the last time I see him. That hurts more than it should, but as I lie on the tattoo table with Blossom embedding my tattoo into my skin, I know that a part of him will always be with me.