Finding Solace

I’m hugging him, my head against his chest, but I can’t keep my eyes off him for long, needing to see every reaction and emotion flickering through his eyes. The anguish he wrestles with, the guilt that seems to fill him, comes in waves of rage, and I feel it too. I understand. I’ve been there. I’m still in that catastrophe, if I’m being honest. “We can’t go back and change those things.”

My arms are around his neck, and his hands find my lower back. I always did love our size difference. Even though he’s still hard in all the right ways, we fit together like two puzzle pieces. “I never stopped thinking about you. I never thought I had a chance of getting you back. If I’d known you weren’t living the life you wanted, I would have been here. If I’d known he hurt you, I would have killed him.”

“Don’t say that.” Though if I admitted my darkest secret, it would be one and the same. “What am I going to do with you?” When his arms tighten around me, I have the same thoughts I’m sure he does. I crack a smile. “We can’t solve our problems between the sheets.”

He tilts his head to the side, a smirk spreading across his lips. “You sure about that?”

“Despite the heavy topics, I’ve not been this happy in years.”

He runs the back of his fingers along my cheekbone and then kisses the corner of my mouth. “We’ll get through this together.” I love how much he loves touching me, looking at me like I might disappear if he’s not watching. I never felt this with Cole. I doubt I ever loved him, or him me. When I look at the adoration on Jason’s face when he looks at me, how he cherishes me as if there is no other choice but to do so, I see the difference.

I love him. Soul deep.

“What happened with the tattoo of his name?”

Not every detail is needed. Knowing the danger this man can be, I realize it’s best to keep this on the surface. Playing with the hem of his shirt, the same damn shirt that’s hiding the good stuff underneath, I reply, “After he hit me, he told me I would get it done or he’d hold me down and do it himself.” Jason’s hands aren’t tight, but I feel his fingers flex around my waist. “I had already planned to visit Shelby the following weekend, so I promised I’d get one while there. Shelby and I were blowing off steam, laughing and drinking. I never felt better than when I was away from him. One night, when we got drunk, we passed a tattoo parlor. I took his threat seriously and decided I would stick to my side of the bargain. I would be in control of anything permanent added to my body. I think you can see the error in my thinking while drunk.”

Exhaling loudly, I know how bad this sounds, but I tell it how it was. “I told them to tattoo my husband’s jersey number.”

Understanding passes through him and all the tension that was straining his muscles moments before eases. The figure eights he was drawing on my back stops, and he says, “Eight is a long way from twenty-two.”

“It sure is, but like I said, I was drunk.”

“You keep saying you were drunk. Did you tell them my number on purpose, or was the alcohol to blame?”

“I blame the alcohol?” Closing my eyes, I shake my head.

“Are you asking me?”

“No. I do blame the booze.”

He smiles. “You know what I think?” I don’t reply, instead wanting him to figure it out on his own. “I think the number eight may have accidentally slipped out, but you didn’t correct them. I have a tattoo. They don’t just ink you without a final go-ahead.”

The gold centers of his brown eyes are bright with happiness. I want to kiss him, but I don’t want to hide behind a distraction, even if he’s hard to resist. Tapping the tip of his nose, I say, “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“You’re right, but as much satisfaction as I’ve found in this, I imagine it didn’t go over so well once you got home.”

“April fifteenth. The day most people dread because their taxes are due, but for me, I thought it was the last day I would ever breathe.”

When it gets heavy, Jason needs room to process, and now is no different. He walks to the back door, but instead of looking out, he lowers his hands. The rise and fall of his torso matches the pace of his heavy breaths. As if something possesses him, he suddenly opens the door and walks out. The door is still open, and I catch the screen door before it slams shut. “Jason?”