I shook my head, and he sighed when he saw my face, saw that I understood what he was hoping he hadn't given away.
“You’re IN love with her. Why the hell aren’t you together?”
He groaned, dragging his hair back with tense fingers, and checking his phone once more.
“Because she fell for someone else.”
Jesus. How that must have felt, for him to watch his love choose another man. I couldn’t even imagine, or could I? Maybe a little? Back at the OG club, I’d been falling for someone who chose their ego and cruelty over me. It was a little similar. It meant I could understand how the unrequited thing felt.
“Sorry, man. Maybe now she’s-”
“Nope. She’s here to heal, not to get jumped on.”
I fell into my thoughts, worry for my friend, relief at my situation being resolved, pride at being marked with my old lady’s name, and knowing that she’d soon be wearing mine.
The hours slipped into each other, with laughter, banter, and good cheer filling the air, although I noticed when Henley slipped outside with his phone against his ear, and didn’t return. I hoped she wasn’t going to fuck with his heart now. He didn’t deserve that.
A slap against my chest made me curse, and my head whipped around so fast so I could yell at Has, but it was V.
“Are you deaf? He said he’s done.” Whoa. I glanced down at the side of my chest that didn’t bear her handprint, and fuck me, it was beautiful. Has really did do beautiful work.
“I love it, man. It’s perfect.”
Has rolled his eyes as he started packing up his kit.
“Obviously. Alright, someone beer me.”
I got up and helped V down into the chair, despite her assertions that she didn’t need any help. She’d learn to accept help, and maybe even learn to ask for it, but she’d get it either way.
“Okay, baby. Let’s get you inked.”
“Wait!” Fuck. Don’t change your mind. Please don’t change your mind. If she did that now, I’d wear her name, and she’d not even be mine. Fears and doubt started to crowd my mind, and the room started to dim around me, as light and sound all became this monotonous dull roar, and panic filled my head. She wasn’t choosing me. She’d still leave me.
“Okay. Oi, Rocket! I said I’m ready. I needed to adjust the bloody chair.” Air flowed back into my lungs, and I dropped to my knees beside her, my face in her lap. She sensed my unease, and stroked her fingers through my hair, as we both ignored various sounds, including a few comments of awwww.
“I wasn’t changing my mind, baby, I promise. I just wanted to be comfortable for this.”
V dragged her fingers through my hair again, gripping the ends and tugging them, until the sharp bite chased away a little of the fog of panic that’d settled around me.
“I’m not going anywhere, Rocket. I’m not leaving you. I love you. Look at me, dickhead.”
I forced a deeper breath, and more clarity filled my senses, as I lifted my head. The room lurched a little, but settled in the next instant. Noise was filling my ears again, from the people around me, and not my own fears and the usual bullshit.
“Jesus.”
“Rocket, I’m sorry. I… I didn’t mean to trigger you.”
I opened my mouth to speak, and someone slapped my back.
“He’s always triggered. Nice tits, love.”
V
Those words were moreof a trigger than anything I could have said, as Rocket shot up from his knees, and shoved the guy who spoke. As it turned out, it was the prospect I’d come to know as Simon, who had given me shit a few times during the time Rocket was gone, but was mostly okay.
Rocket took him down onto the hard floor, and punches flew for mere seconds, before they were both up again, laughing, and then bro-hugging, like that was just part of the fun. When Rocket turned back to me, he looked like his old self. The fears had dissipated again, and that possessive heat lingered in his gaze. I was so getting fucked when this was over, and I couldn’t wait. I hadn’t exposed my breasts, obviously, because the tattoo was going on my upper arm, where I could enjoy it, and show it off. I think Simon the prospect was a little more clued in on human nature or body language than many of them. He’d probably be quite the club member, if he could keep toeing the line.
“Ink me, Rocket. I’m yours,” I said loudly, because sometimes, even while you’re being claimed, you have to claim your man right back.
