Be My Hero (Forbidden Men #3)(89)

He groaned and threw his head back, "Fuck, yes. My favorite kind of dream."

I chuckled and decided to do to his neck what he'd done to mine. I licked my way over the tattoo of a tree root and then grew curious about the ink on his heart. Plus I wanted him shirtless.

"This is in my way."

"Then by all means." Pick was quick to grab the cloth at the back of his shirt and yank it over his head.

My vision went a little bit fuzzy at all that fine, tanned, toned naked flesh before me. I wanted all of it at once. Greedy, my fingers reached and immediately skimmed over the smooth, hard planes of his perfect canvas. And that nipple ring . . . ooh. I was going to have some fun with that. As Pick caught the hem of my shirt and started tugging it up, I finally focused on his one chest tattoo.

And that's pretty much when everything went to hell.

"What the . . . ?"

I pulled back so fast I started to tumble off his lap.

"Tink?" Pick caught me, but I batted his hand away as I scurried to the other end of the couch, unable to stop gaping in horror at the words inscribed on his chest.

"What's wrong, baby?"

He started to crawl toward me, his concern thick and wild. But I held up a hand to ward him off.

"You . . . your chest . . . names."

His eyes flared. "Oh, shit. I forgot." Slapping his hand over the mark, he closed his eyes and shook his head, cursing under his breath as he bowed his face.

"You forgot what?" I screeched. "That the name you call me is tattooed to your chest? That my daughter's name is . . . Oh my God. What the f*ck is going on?"

His lashes parted. His eyes begged me to calm down even as he lifted his hands in a placating gesture. "Promise me you won't freak out."

Oh, that ship had sailed, buddy. "But you . . . you . . . Oh. My. God. That's not fresh ink, Pick. That's . . . This tattoo is old. It's like years old."

His brown eyes filled with worry as his gaze darted around my face. "Yeah."

"How the hell can you have my daughter's name tattooed to your heart for years when she's only a few months old? And Julian . . . and oh my God. Tinker Bell? There's another Tinker Bell in your life? All three names listed together like that is a mighty big coincidence. That cannot be a coincidence. The only name not freaking me out right now is Chloe, but I still hate her because she was obviously important to you."

"No, don't . . . I will tell you everything. I swear, Eva. But it's a . . . " He shook his head and blew out a breath. "It's a pretty crazy story, so please try to listen until the end. Okay?"

I folded my arms over my chest, and I'm sure he could tell just how upset I was. I'd pinched my mouth with displeasure and put up all kinds of walls to block him because I knew, I just knew, whatever he had to say was going to hurt. He had that panicked, apologetic look on his face as if he knew he'd f*cked up big time. No bastard looked that way unless they knew they were about to majorly upset a woman's life.

When he just kept watching me, looking frightened, I rolled my eyes. "Okay." I waved my hand for him to start talking already.

"All right." He blew out a long breath and closed his eyes before saying, "Ten years ago, on November twentieth, Tristy tried to kill herself."

I shivered at the mention of my birthday, remembering how he had the date set as his cell phone's passcode, which only confused me more. Why the hell would a suicide attempt be such a noteworthy date? But I was a good girl and let him keep talking about how he visited the witch who'd upset Tristy, hoping to get revenge, and how he got stuck in some ankle trap she'd set up in her yard. He even hiked up his pant leg to show me the scars around the base of his foot. Then he started talking about glimpses, wedding dances, and immaculate backyards. I just stared at him, unable to—yeah, I was too dazed to say much of anything.

But in no way could I envision him as the freaky, weird kind of guy into witchcraft.

When he was done talking, he blew out another breath and said, "Well?"

I shook my head, stunned. "So, you had this glimpse thing when you were fourteen where saw me? You saw us get married and have three children together named Julian, Skylar, and Chloe?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah. Well, basically. I mean, I thought they were my biological kids. They called me dad, and I . . . I felt like their father. I don't know how to describe it, exactly. It was just so real, like I was really living it, feeling it, tasting it. You smelled like lilacs, even then."

I lifted my hands to stop him because this was getting overwhelming. "Okay, just . . . slow down."

I think he was afraid to slow down, though, afraid I'd call him insane and leave his crazy ass. He kept talking. "Everything, I mean everything, has matched up so far. I was so pissed at Tristy for naming her kid Julian. But he's turning into my son, isn't he? And Skylar? How the hell could I predict you would name her that? Or that you'd be wearing Tinker Bell on your shirt the first night I met you? And that damn pink pig."

He motioned toward the stuffed animal I had sitting in the swing because we rarely used the swing anymore. "She was holding it in my vision, and then I saw it sitting in the hospital gift shop window the night she was born. That's not just a coincidence."

I covered my mouth with my hands as tears filled my eyes. "And you knew she'd have dark hair and a cowlick."