“What does she do for a living?” I prodded.
“She’s an aide in a senior citizens residential facility.”
“So, you’re both in the healthcare business.”
June tilted her head and looked at me, her eyes slightly narrowing, as if she were pondering my words. She then propped up her temple on the back of her hand, her knuckles slanting her cheekbone and eye.
“The only thing my older brother and I have in common is that we both spent time in juvenile detention.” We had to talk about this at some point, but I had also said it to let her know she wasn’t alone.
She jerked her head up, as if recalling something important and looked at me.
“Juvie. An expression I learned here while filling in my working visa application.” I smirked.
“How long were you—”
“A month, the second time. Two weeks, the first.”
“And your brother?”
“Two of them are doing time, and they’re not juveniles anymore.” I wasn’t ashamed of my past or my family. Not proud, either. I was just stating facts. But I was also trying to gauge her reaction.
From the way her mouth moved, I knew she was measuring her words before uttering them.
“Is this where you got this and …?” She waved a pointed finger first at my neck then at my arms, which were covered by the long sleeves of my Henley.
I smirked again. I wanted to ask if she thought I had served time in Oz, but I let it slide. “No.” She waited, so I continued, “I got this one when I was fifteen.” I ran my palm over my neck. “We all did the same one, my friends and I. It was like belonging. I thought it was cool. It’s a classic. By Michaelangelo.” I stressed the last part of the name.
June angled her head to peer at my neck. I turned it toward her so she could get a good look. I felt a featherlike touch. She pushed my silver chain down a bit, probably to get the full image that was inked on me.
I hadn’t expected that touch. And I hadn’t expected to like it.
We shifted back to look at each other. I hiked my sleeves up. June now sucked in her lower lip and nibbled on it, not in a sexy way but a holding-her-breath way. It still caught my eye and sent a lick of flame down my body. If she knew, she’d probably push herself farther away from me on the sofa.
“This”—I pointed to the clasped hands with the banner running between them and the angel that hovered above them on my right forearm—“I got the same year. It saysRispetto, lealtà, onore—respect, loyalty, honor. We were just kids, playing at being gangsters, when, in fact, we couldn’t even afford going to games. Football games.”
“The angel,” she said, “because of your name?” Without noticing, she leaned closer to look at it. I could smell her hair, which was now mostly dry. A wisp escaped the loosely tied band and framed her face.
“Yes. We each got something different to go with the clasped hands, so I chose the angel.” I pointed at the guitar-holding angel with the banner flowing from its wings on my other forearm. “After I started permanently at Luigi’s, I added this.Scopo, amore, musica—aim, love, music.”
We both raised our gazes simultaneously, and our eyes met.
“And these?” June asked, pointing at the inner side of my forearms.
“They’re only good together,” I said. Crossing my arms, June could see the feathered arrow on one arm looking as if it hit the round aim on the other.
She nodded then looked up. “If I ever got a tattoo—which I never would—I’d get a rose.”
That killed the need to ask and my hope that she’d surprise me by revealing some June’s-secret-life tattoo hidden in an interesting spot.
“It’s my birth month’s flower. A June flower. With rain drops for my last name and the shop’s name.” Her voice came out soft, a half-whisper.
Without taking my eyes off her, I pulled down my shirt’s neckline to expose the tattoo on my left pec. A black-inked rose with raindrops on its petals, angel wings hovering behind it.Did I have a June Raine tattooed on my chest?
June dropped her gaze to my chest, and I could see her breath hitching. She eyed the tattoo, and I was trying to read her expression.
I let go of the neckline of my shirt, and it whipped itself back in place. I wanted her to look into my eyes again.
June looked up, and our gazes locked for a silent moment. But I had no idea what was written in these depths.
