Crave Me (The Good Ol' Boys #4)(63)

I grinned. “Are we sharing sad stories now, baby?”

She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes at me.

“I’ll tell you mine, if you tell me yours,” I added.

She sighed, looking back down at the food she was preparing. Lost in thought again.

“That’s what I thought," I said under my breath.

I grabbed my notebook, walking toward the bathroom to shower.

“Austin,” she called out behind me, making me turn to face her.

“You can pick any tattoo on my body, except your favorite and I will tell you what it means," she said, gesturing up and down her body, wiggling her eyebrows.

I smiled, big and wide.

She was trying to make light of the serious situation. I watched her eyes go exactly where I wanted them, to the notebook in my hands. She wanted to know what I drew in there, probably as much as I wanted to know what her real name was.

I gravitated towards her like a magnet. My feet moved on their own accord, following the pounding rhythm of her heart that I knew was racing, fast and hard.

For me.

I couldn’t get to her fast enough. The anticipation was alive and breathing all around me, guiding me toward a little part of her that she was finally willing to share. It wasn’t what I wanted, but it was a step in the right direction. Each stride brought me closer to her before I finally broke the distance between us.

Her eyes were silently begging me to touch her.

To feel her.

My thumb swiped over her plump bottom lip and within seconds I was pulling it out from between her teeth. Taking a moment to trace along the soft, wet skin. It didn’t take long for the tip of her tongue to graze against my finger.

I loved the effect I had on her.

Her eyes dilated.

My cock twitched.

I threw my notebook on the counter. Slowly gliding my thumb down to her clavicle bone, never losing contact with her skin. She stirred when she felt me caress, back and forth along the cursive writing tattooed in a language I didn't recognize.

“This one,” I simply stated, eyeing her cautiously.

She blinked, her eyes immediately filling with tears.

I frowned, waiting for her to share a piece of her soul with me. It took everything inside me to tell her that she didn't have to do this.

But I needed her to.

That outweighed the turmoil it was causing her.

She shook her head, struggling to let the meaning leave her lips. “It’s in Spanish. It means February 21st.”

My eyebrows lowered as I stared intently into her eyes. Waiting for her to continue.

“It’s the day I died, Austin. It’s the day the girl you think is still inside me,” she placed her hand over the tattoo, “the one you keep asking for her name. Died.”

I jerked back, shocked as shit. I wasn't expecting that at all. I stepped away from her, roughly running my hands through my hair. Wanting to tear it the f*ck out. I needed a second to comprehend what she just shared. It knocked the f*cking wind right out of me, and I was finding it hard to breathe.

What the f*ck?

Tears started to slide down her beautiful face, one right after the other. Falling onto her white shirt, leaving a trail of her pain. I used the same thumb I’d been using to stir sensations from her body a minute ago, to wipe away her tears.

They belonged to me now.

“Austin, please say something,” she wept, overwhelmed by her truth and my silence.

“Jesus Christ, Briggs…” I breathed out, just as overwhelmed from her truth.

She grimaced not understanding my reaction.

“I f*cking hate my scars. They’re a part of me. A part that I can never get rid of, they’re forever etched in my skin.”

“Austin…” she coaxed, her heart breaking for me. “You’re beautiful. You—”

I placed my thumb over her lips, silencing her. It was still wet from her tears. She looked up at me, her big blue eyes so full of sadness for me and I hated that even more.

I didn’t want her sympathy.

I didn’t f*cking deserve it.

“I hate people staring at me. Asking themselves ‘What happened to him?’ Feeling f*cking sorry for me,” I paused, letting my words sink in. “I don’t know how this is even f*cking possible, but on the exact same date you died, Briggs. I almost died too. Except that’s not the reason why I f*cking hate my scars. I hate them because all they do is remind me every day that I almost killed my best friend too.”

Her eyes widened.

“Oh my God,” she rasped, her voice breaking as much as her resolve. Her head shook fervently.

I couldn’t tell if it was from the fact that something life changing happened to both of us on the same date or the truth I just revealed.

She pressed her hand against her forehead, bowing her head. Like she had just been suddenly struck with a splitting headache.

“Briggs, I was in a car—”

She put her hand out in front of her, silencing me. “ stories, Austin,” she interrupted. Giving me a look I hadn’t ever seen before. “I can’t hear anymore.”

I didn’t falter. “For now, Briggs… no more sad stories, for now.”

She peeked up at me through her lashes and spoke with conviction, “Fuck sad stories.”

With that she turned away from me and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. I wanted to go after her, I wanted to hold her and take away her pain.