“If he does anything like that again and I'm not around, please tell me.”
I blew out a deep breath and kissed his lips to keep from saying anything about his protective nature, he was just standing up for me. “I will.” Tucking my head back into his chest, I finally got a good look at it. “Hey you have a tattoo.” I touched the numbers on his chest and tried to make sense of them.
“I have a few.”
“What do the numbers and letters mean?” I traced them all. U A F 175 9 11 01
“United Airlines Flight 175. September 11, 2001”
“Your Dad.”
“Mhmm.”
“Can I ask you something? You don't have to answer it.”
He tucked my hair behind my ear again and cupped my face, “I'll answer anything for you.”
“Why was he on that plane?”
“Twice a year he had to go on a two week long business trip all over the country. He was headed for his last stop before he was going to come home.” The pain in his voice was unmistakable and I instantly regretted asking.
“I'm sorry.” I whispered into his chest, and placed a light kiss over the tattoo. I sat there quietly until he returned to playing with my hair and making circles on my back, even then I waited at least five more minutes before I said anything. “Will you show me the others?”
He smiled and flipped around so his back was facing me. I gasped when I saw everything on his back and shoulders. There were definitely more than a few. Tribal swirls covered the majority of his right shoulder leading toward his waist; I would have thought it looked stupid on anyone other than Brandon. It flowed perfectly over his sculpted back. A few lines of words in another language were peeking out from the bed near his ribs on his left side. Hidden between a swallow, a few stars and a Celtic cross were other designs I’d never seen before but thoroughly complimented the rest of the tattoos.
“Brandon, this is amazing.” I breathed.
“You like them?” He started to turn around but I stopped him so I could keep looking. He laughed and grabbed my hand to kiss my palm. When I felt satisfied, I tugged on his shoulder until he faced me again.
“Thank you Harper.” He said softly.
“For what?”
“For letting me talk about him, and knowing how to respond.”
I pulled his face towards mine and looked directly into his eyes, “Whenever you want to talk about him, I'll be here.”
He kissed me quickly before climbing out of bed. I instantly missed his arms around me and frowned. “Don't pout. It's cute as hell, but I want to take you out to breakfa-err...lunch.”
I grumbled and tried to crawl out of his bed. Before I could get my feet on the ground he had my legs wrapped around his waist, and his lips were devouring mine. Our tongues touched, and thankfully he didn't seem to mind my next shiver. I laughed into his mouth when he slammed my back into the wall. His mouth left a trail of heat down my neck, across my collar bone and stopped on my shoulder. I wiggled against him when he didn't continue.
He sucked in air through his teeth and I felt his chest rumble. “Are you fucking kidding me?!” he yelled it loud enough that I flinched and I wouldn’t doubt if he woke up everyone else in the house.
I shushed him, “Brandon! What's wrong?”
For how angry he seemed all of a sudden, I was surprised with the gentleness of his touch on my arm. He was breathing hard, but somehow I didn't think it had anything to do with me being pressed up against the wall anymore. He cursed again under his breath and his eyes finally caught mine when he set me down.
I inhaled sharply when I saw the hate in them. “Brandon?”
Mashing his lips together, he set his forehead against mine and closed his eyes. When I tried to look down at whatever he'd seen, his other hand slipped under my chin. “Don't.” He growled. After a few more seconds he took a deep breath in and looked at my arm again. “Harper.” He said through clenched teeth, “I want you to stay in here, and get ready. I'll be back soon.” He firmly pressed his lips to my forehead and turned to leave.
“Brandon what's wro–” my eyes widened, “Oh. My. God.”
“CHASE!” He roared as he left the room.
I stared in shock until his door slammed shut and he yelled for Chase again, then I grabbed the shirt he'd been wearing last night off the floor and took off after him, pulling the shirt over my head in the process. “Brandon! Brandon, don't!”
“Chase open the damn door!” he yelled as he banged his fist on his door.
There were already a group of barely awake people standing behind me in the living room when Bree opened the door.
“What is your problem?” She hissed at him.
“Where is he Bree?!”
Before she could answer, the back door slid open and Chase sauntered in rubbing his eyes. Had he slept outside? “What's with all the yelling?”