The Rebel (Red's Tavern 2)

“Took a second for that one to heal, too,” I said, my head swimming with memory.

“It was a fucking doozy.”

“The night you got it, I kept waking up in bed next to you, afraid that I’d rolled over onto your arm.”

The corner of Liam’s mouth quirked up in a smile. “You woke up like ten times that night, I swear.”

“And then the next morning I was so worried,” I said.

“You were so careful. I remember your dick being very, very hard that morning, but you were afraid to even fuck me.”

“I wanted it bad, but I was so sure I’d mess up the tattoo and hurt you.”

“Turned out fine, though,” Liam said, lifting an eyebrow.

I puffed out a laugh. “I don’t know if it was because I was delirious from lack of sleep, but that morning was one of the most memorable blow jobs I’ve ever gotten.”

I was hardening a little under my pants just thinking about it. The morning after he’d gotten that tattoo, it had been a rare rainy day in Los Angeles. The light in the room was grey, and all I could think was that Liam’s eyes matched the clouds outside perfectly. He’d let his eyes rest on mine as he sucked me off, and it was dreamy as all hell. He’d made me come three times that day, the third one happening after I said I “couldn’t possibly have another orgasm” and he had to challenge me, proving me very wrong.

For God’s sake, now I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d come three times in one day.

“We were somethin’ else,” I said quietly, looking away from the tattoo.

He breathed deep, nodding.

“So who’s Katie?” I asked, knowing I needed to change the subject. I wasn’t sure if I liked reminiscing about my past with Liam or if it was killing me.

“Katie’s the most badass woman I’ve ever fucking met,” he said. “She’s been my main tattoo artist for a few years, and she’s my best friend. Helped me escape Col—well, she helped me get out of LA.”

I ran one last pass of disinfectant over his cut and he winced.

“Ow, god damn it,” he said.

“That’s all we need. Let’s dry it off and get some Band-Aids on it.”

“Then you’ll stop fucking torturing me?”

“I’m not torturing you, I’m saving your life.”

He let out a loud laugh and I couldn’t help but grin. “Red, it’s true that you actually have saved my life on many occasions. But I doubt I would have died from this little cut.”

“Fair enough. But I’m just saying, I saw you almost pass out back there.”

“Kinda like you almost passed out when I walked into your bar, huh?” he joked.

I clenched my jaw. I hated how close to correct he was.

“Sorry. Shit. Too soon to joke about that, I guess,” Liam said. “I just thought we had moved into the... joking-around stage by now.”

“I was trying to talk about anything to distract you from the blood,” I said, applying two Band-Aids to his hand.

“Right,” he said. “Well, thank you.”

“It’s a shallow enough cut,” I said. “Should close up just fine. Feeling okay?”

He nodded. “It’s better. I wish I wasn’t such a wuss when it comes to blood.”

“You don’t have to apologize for that. Blood should stay inside where it belongs. You’ll be fine in a few days as long as you don’t go around rubbing your hands in dirt piles.”

“Well, there goes my weekend plan,” Liam joked. “I mean it, Red. Thank you. You were always better at these things than I was.”

“Back in the day, you wouldn’t have had disinfectant or Band-Aids, so you’re doing well.”

He snorted. “I would have made you clean the cut with vodka.”

All in all, my relationship with Liam had only lasted for about a year, back in the day. But I couldn’t count the number of times I’d had to help him out of situations like this. He was almost always drunk, and it was always one of the same problems: he’d lose his cell phone in a drunken haze, or he’d get a gash somewhere, or he’d forget to pay months of electricity bills even though he had the cash. Fill in the blank with whatever Liam problem it was on whatever day.

Liam was peering at me like he had a sense that I was mentally cataloging all of the times I’d helped him out of fucked-up situations. He looked guilty, almost.

I noticed dark circles under his eyes for the first time.

“I leaned on you too much for help back then,” Liam said. “I know that. I was a dumbass twenty-year-old.”

“You were young,” I said. “You weren’t a dumbass.”

“And you seemed crazy old to me, even though you were twenty-eight at the time,” he said. “I had no idea how life worked.”

I scratched the back of my neck. “Yeah, but I liked being able to help. Taking care of you. It just…”