We were both working on be
ing able to talk about Darren in casual conversation. He’d had too much power over me for far too long.
“Or, hey, animal print. I’ve developed a fascination for that.”
“No. I like the yellow. You like the yellow.” I rubbed my nose over the back of his T-shirt and inhaled his spicy cologne and soap. That smell had centered me since the day we’d met. “This time, I went in and browsed without having a panic attack. You know why?”
“Because you’re so fucking strong you amaze me every minute of the day?” The emotion in his voice made my eyes go damp.
“No. Because I kept looking at your boxers and grinning. I found them as soon as I walked in, and they helped me think about you, not Darren. By the time I left, he wasn’t even in my head.”
“Move back. I’ll put them on right now. Actually, I’ll wear them every day. You’ll have to get me a whole wardrobe of them.” He rubbed the back of my hand. “I hope there are more colors. Maybe a nice blue?”
Laughter really was the best medicine. That’s what he’d given me. Laughter, and joy, and love. I needed to give those right back. Ached to.
“Nope, sorry, just black. But if you like them that much, I can—” I’d been idly caressing his abs but the raised area under my fingers snagged my attention. “What is this?”
“A little tattoo I got today. It was supposed to be a surprise.”
“Little tattoo, hmm?” I twisted up his shirt as he turned toward me. There in black ink on his ripped as hell stomach, a single word.
Believe.
“It’s a good word,” he said nonchalantly. “A strong one. It says a lot, don’t you think? It’s hopeful and positive and—”
I laid my finger over his mouth, silencing him. He’d believed for me for a while and it had gotten us to this place. A fucking awesome place, if I said so myself. And now I believed every bit as fervently as he did.
“I love you so much.” A tremor went through him. Through me. I leaned up to kiss his jaw. His cheeks. His lips. I said it again over the lump in my throat. “I love you, Tray.”
He framed my face in his fingers and kissed me in the spaces between. “About fucking time,” he said hoarsely. “Do you know how much I’ve been dying to hear those words?”
“I’m sorry it took me forever to say them. It didn’t take me that long to feel them.” He was staring at me so intently that I started to squirm. “What?”
“Hang on a sec.” He released me to go over to the coat closet and pull out his hoodie.
He’d refused to take back his leather jacket, which was a big reason why I’d bought him a new one. The other being that he’d look amazing in the one I’d got.
Because I was still picturing Tray in black leather—and only black leather—when he turned back with a little black velvet box in his hand, it took me a second to realize what I was seeing. I didn’t take a step back, but I definitely swayed. “Um…”
He grinned at my expression and held out the box. “Just open it.”
“That’s twice today you’ve reduced me to grunts.” Steeling myself, I popped the lid and blinked at the tiny gold boxing glove earrings nestled within. “Earrings?”
He pried them out of the box and managed to get them in my ears himself after a couple of fumbling tries. “I’ve been carrying them around since the night of Carly’s party, waiting for the right moment to give them to you.”
“Slater picked them out?” I asked slyly, thinking of the man who had become a friend to me too over the last couple of months. He was hanging out with us more and more, and Tray had a feeling he didn’t want to spend time at home for some reason. But he didn’t push.
Unlike me. I’d get it out of Slater one of these days, preferably when Tray wasn’t around to tell me to stop prying.
“Do you like them?” Tray asked.
“I love them. They’re perfect.”
Tray’s lips curved. “Then fuck no, he didn’t pick them out.”
“Perfect.” I traced the tiny gloves. “Even if I don’t fight anymore.”
“Yes, you do. You’re fighting every minute.” He fingered my earlobes, his gaze never leaving mine. “I’m fighting with you too. Always.”