eyes. For a second I think he recognizes me. How could he? I don’t look like I’m ten years old. And, if he does recognize me, maybe I imagined the ten-year-old Caydon cared about me.
Caydon’s eyes are soft, but only for a moment. Darkness fills his eyes and he’s lost again. “Nash is someone you need to stay away from, Reece.”
“Caydon, I didn’t invite him here. I don’t care to be near him or away from him. Why don’t you believe me? Why do always think I’m out to piss you off?” I shoot back at him. I want him to feel it. I want him to remember.
I see the darkness fading. I see the muscles in his arms tighten around the doorframe. This is it. His eyes roam from my feet all the way up to my eyes. I feel him all over me, like I did last night. “Reece,” he softly says my name. “I’d have to care about you for you to piss me off. And I don’t care. He’s just not a good guy. Stay away from him.”
Stop it. That hurts.
He’s about to walk away from me, leaving me with a cutting statement to swallow. I grab his arm. “Every time Nash is mentioned or near, you shut down. Why?”
C’mon. Remember.
Running his fingers through his dark hair, he sighs. “You wouldn’t get it.” He regrets telling me he doesn’t care.
“Try me.”
“It’s crazy.”
“I specialize in crazy.”
“Reece, leave it alone,” he whispers and kisses me on the cheek.
Caydon doesn’t remember me. I have to accept it and move on. Last night was a drunken hook up. It meant nothing more. I mean nothing to him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
* * *
Caydon
I’ll be damned if I let another girl get under my skin. Hannah ruined me. Hell, I was ruined before that.
Reece makes me itch for her. And that’s dangerous…too dangerous.
When I’m around her, I can’t help myself. It’s either I want to wound her with my words or lay her down on her back and fuck her senseless. The latter is not an option. Sure, I don’t want anyone else to have what I feel in my heart is mine. I don’t think they will respect her virginity like I do. But I can’t have another broad turn me into a bitch. I can’t. I won’t. The fury is too much.
Since Thanksgiving, I’ve been working out with Mark. Taking my anger out on the punching bag has helped tremendously. However, the vehemence is still there. Lurking.
I remain quiet as I inject the ink into my client’s calf. It’s a piece I’ve been working on a while. I’ve completed the outline and today he is getting it filled in. This piece is one of my favorite designs. It’s a large noose with the number two in the middle of it.
Typically, I don’t ask my clients what their tattoos mean. Each tattoo is personal, unless you are getting one just because it is the ‘thing’ to do. This client’s tattoo speaks to me. I need to know what it means to him. “Do you like the tat, man?”
I’ve tattooed him before. I like this guy. He’s quiet and you can see him thinking before he speaks. “It’s one of the best you have done for me, Caydon.”
“What’s it mean?”
“The noose is an obvious symbol. But the number and the symbol together represent the pain and humiliation of falling in love twice and losing the battle. I want to be reminded of the pain and love I am capable of feeling for someone.”
It’s not the answer I was expecting. In fact, the explanation has touched me more than my client will know. Poor bastard has been in love twice and lost both times. “So, I guess you’re done…with love.”
“Nah, man. I’m getting married next week. I’ve never been more in love than I am now.”
Crazy bastard.
“What the fuck?” I ask.
He laughs. “I know. Every time I tell someone this story, they think I’m insane.”
Yep.
“So, I’m sitting in this coffee shop and my fiancée, at the time, is telling me how she’s unhappy. Blah, blah, blah. She continues to tell me how Fred, yeah, his name is fucking Fred, makes her feel like a woman. Fred is some douche
Caydon’s eyes are soft, but only for a moment. Darkness fills his eyes and he’s lost again. “Nash is someone you need to stay away from, Reece.”
“Caydon, I didn’t invite him here. I don’t care to be near him or away from him. Why don’t you believe me? Why do always think I’m out to piss you off?” I shoot back at him. I want him to feel it. I want him to remember.
I see the darkness fading. I see the muscles in his arms tighten around the doorframe. This is it. His eyes roam from my feet all the way up to my eyes. I feel him all over me, like I did last night. “Reece,” he softly says my name. “I’d have to care about you for you to piss me off. And I don’t care. He’s just not a good guy. Stay away from him.”
Stop it. That hurts.
He’s about to walk away from me, leaving me with a cutting statement to swallow. I grab his arm. “Every time Nash is mentioned or near, you shut down. Why?”
C’mon. Remember.
Running his fingers through his dark hair, he sighs. “You wouldn’t get it.” He regrets telling me he doesn’t care.
“Try me.”
“It’s crazy.”
“I specialize in crazy.”
“Reece, leave it alone,” he whispers and kisses me on the cheek.
Caydon doesn’t remember me. I have to accept it and move on. Last night was a drunken hook up. It meant nothing more. I mean nothing to him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
* * *
Caydon
I’ll be damned if I let another girl get under my skin. Hannah ruined me. Hell, I was ruined before that.
Reece makes me itch for her. And that’s dangerous…too dangerous.
When I’m around her, I can’t help myself. It’s either I want to wound her with my words or lay her down on her back and fuck her senseless. The latter is not an option. Sure, I don’t want anyone else to have what I feel in my heart is mine. I don’t think they will respect her virginity like I do. But I can’t have another broad turn me into a bitch. I can’t. I won’t. The fury is too much.
Since Thanksgiving, I’ve been working out with Mark. Taking my anger out on the punching bag has helped tremendously. However, the vehemence is still there. Lurking.
I remain quiet as I inject the ink into my client’s calf. It’s a piece I’ve been working on a while. I’ve completed the outline and today he is getting it filled in. This piece is one of my favorite designs. It’s a large noose with the number two in the middle of it.
Typically, I don’t ask my clients what their tattoos mean. Each tattoo is personal, unless you are getting one just because it is the ‘thing’ to do. This client’s tattoo speaks to me. I need to know what it means to him. “Do you like the tat, man?”
I’ve tattooed him before. I like this guy. He’s quiet and you can see him thinking before he speaks. “It’s one of the best you have done for me, Caydon.”
“What’s it mean?”
“The noose is an obvious symbol. But the number and the symbol together represent the pain and humiliation of falling in love twice and losing the battle. I want to be reminded of the pain and love I am capable of feeling for someone.”
It’s not the answer I was expecting. In fact, the explanation has touched me more than my client will know. Poor bastard has been in love twice and lost both times. “So, I guess you’re done…with love.”
“Nah, man. I’m getting married next week. I’ve never been more in love than I am now.”
Crazy bastard.
“What the fuck?” I ask.
He laughs. “I know. Every time I tell someone this story, they think I’m insane.”
Yep.
“So, I’m sitting in this coffee shop and my fiancée, at the time, is telling me how she’s unhappy. Blah, blah, blah. She continues to tell me how Fred, yeah, his name is fucking Fred, makes her feel like a woman. Fred is some douche
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