“I’m okay.” I sat up and stretched my arms over my head. The cold air hit my chest, reminding me I was shirtless. “Sorry!”
I cupped myself in an attempt at modesty. His tongue ring popped out to slide between his lips, his eyes on my barely covered chest.
“I definitely need a break,” he said decisively.
The buzz of the tattoo machine stopped and the background music became more prominent.
He stood up and turned around, rolling his shoulders. “I’ll be right back.”
Hayden sauntered across the room, adjusting himself, and slipped out the door. I’d known the attraction between us wouldn’t wane during the session, but I hadn’t expected to find it debilitating, especially since this was as close as we could get physically for the next week. When he returned, he brought bottled water.
I took a long drink. “Thanks.”
“No problem. You need to stay hydrated.” He dropped back into his chair. “How are you feeling so far?”
“I’m good,” I reassured him again, even though the vague burning sensation on the right side of my back continued to grow. I didn’t want to think too much about how the second half of the tattoo would feel.
Hayden tilted his head back and drained half the bottle. I watched his Adam’s apple bob. Strange how something so automatic could seem sexy.
“You sure? You’re awful quiet.”
“I’m sorry.” My focus so far had been singularly on the physical sensation, keeping my mind clear of the memories associated with the reasons behind the tattoo.
“You don’t need to apologize. I’m just checking to see where you’re at.”
“I’d tell you if it was too much.”
“I don’t know if I believe that, but I’ll take your word for it. At least for now. Ready to get back to it?” he asked.
I handed him my half-full bottle and he capped it, setting it on the floor beside my chair. He pulled on a fresh pair of gloves and turned on the machine.
“How far are you?” I asked.
“We’re making good progress. I’m almost halfway through the right side, but the left will be more challenging. Since the scarring is more severe, I expect it’s going to take longer and we’ll need more breaks.”
“Okay. That makes sense.”
He rolled in close, and the needle touched my skin again. The discomfort increased when he passed over my ribs and decreased again as he went lower. This time, I couldn’t stop the memories from playing out like a photo album.
Hayden’s left foot tapped as he worked. I could see his Technicolor arm in my periphery, and if I strained hard enough, I could still make out his profile.
“Hayden?”
He pulled back immediately. “Does it hurt?”
“I’m fine.” I needed a distraction. If I could get him to talk about his past, it might help keep my mind off my own. I ran my fingers over the vines leading to the bleeding heart tattoo. “Will you tell me about this?”
When he stayed silent, I turned my head enough so I could see him. “Please?”
“Are you going to fill me in on why I’m marking you with this?” he asked, bartering for information.
I had a feeling once the outline was done, the next few nights—in addition to being physically uncomfortable—would be emotionally tumultuous. I conceded. “I’ll tell you about the accident.”
“Tonight?” he demanded.
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
I settled back in the chair. “But only if you go first.”
A deep furrow creased Hayden’s brow as he resumed his work. “I got the tattoo after my parents were killed.”
“Both of them?” I asked, shocked. Cassie said his mother died, but she didn’t mention that he lost his father as well.
“Yeah.”
“How old were you?”
“Almost eighteen.”
“Was it an accident?” I asked, wondering how close we were in our losses.
Hayden turned off the tattoo machine and I shifted so I could see him better. “They were murdered.”
“Oh, my God.” When Cassie said he lost his mother, I assumed it had been some kind of accident or illness, not this. I sat up, bringing the towel with me to cover my chest. “What happened?”
His eyes were on his forearm, the vine-wrapped heart on display. “They were shot. I found them.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh Hayden. That must have been terrifying.” It was bad enough to find out they’d been murdered, but that Hayden had been the one to discover them was horrific. No matter how hard I tried, I could never erase the violent image of Connor’s mangled body from my memory. I doubted I ever would. Hayden’s haunted expression told me it was the same for him.
“It’s been almost seven years. It was a long time ago.” Hayden picked the tattoo machine up again, but I didn’t take the cue and lie back down.
“It doesn’t make it any less traumatic.” I wanted to reach out and ease the ache that was so obvious in him, but his posture was rigid, his eyes dark, and I wasn’t sure the contact would be welcome.
“I got the bleeding heart as a reminder of what my choices cost me.”