Thanks a lot, Mack. This is brutal.
“He ran away from all of his responsibilities,” I tell him. “It wasn’t about you, kid.”
“How could it be? He never knew me. He might not have even known about me.”
I tilt my eyes to him. Drew sits back slightly on the couch. He’s sad, I know, talking about this. But there’s still a light in his eyes.
He’s smart. I can see that. He might be sweet, but I’m wrong to think he’s naïve. The kid wants to know the truth, no matter how hard, and I can see the intelligence in his eyes while he looks off into space, taking it all in.
I spot a picture of Mack. He’s outside Blade, sitting on the back of his truck, a cocky grin on his face. There are a couple of other people with him, including the man he was fucking when he ran away from Blade.
There’s a bolt in my heart, and it twists tight when I see the snapshot. “Here you go, kid,” I tell him, then hand the photograph over. “He’s the guy sitting in the middle. You can keep it.”
Drew grabs the photo, and his eyes burn into it. I watch a world of emotions pass through his expression. Then he lets out a shaky breath. “Thank you,” he whispers.
Damn. Mack’s kid is even more beautiful than Mack.
And instead of acting like a little shit, he’s as good as they come.
“It’s nothing,” I tell him, then lean forward and start digging again. “There’s probably some more,” I mumble.
Drew’s knee presses to mine again. The way we tense, I know we’re both aware of it, but I don’t move. I don’t want to scare him off or act cold, and honestly, it just feels too good.
Mack’s fucking kid. I cannot think this way about Mack’s kid.
Heat washes through my core as my dick hardens, thick and heavy in my jeans.
“How’s your ink, by the way?” I ask him, trying to distract myself. “It looks like it’s healing quick.”
“Yeah, I think so,” he agrees. “I’m following the care instructions exactly.”
“Good,” I grunt with a nod, ignoring how nice his voice sounds, like he’s trying to please me. “We’ll be able to work on it more soon.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Drew looking at the photograph, then back to me. “Do you maybe have another story you could share? Anything else about him?”
Now his voice has dropped lower, closer to pleading, which tugs at my heart. I grit my teeth, wrestling something inside myself, and turn to him.
“I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “It’s just that I know I won’t have many chances to ask you.”
I must look pissed, but his knee is still against my leg, and I’m stiff as steel. I adjust myself and try to relax my expression. “You’re fine,” I say. I spot another picture, Mack inking in the shop, which I hand to Drew. “Honestly, kid, there aren’t a lot of great stories. We went to the bar and got wasted. He liked to race his truck around town and pick up strangers, and I was always trying to keep him from fighting.”
Drew nods, then lets out a soft chuckle. “It sounds like he wouldn’t have liked me, anyway.”
“Well, he was a shit judge of character, too. Did I tell you that yet?”
This time, he lets out a real laugh. Drew looks up to me, and his smile brings a soft curve to his cheek.
Then, out of nowhere, it hits me. “Shit,” I say.
Drew arches an eyebrow. “Huh?”
I wipe my hand over my mouth. “Just remembered,” I say as I stand, then cross over the closet again. “You and Mack had a few things in common. You like machines, right? Like those pinballs?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
I find the little green box I’m looking for, tucked up in the back of the closet. I almost thought it would have somehow magically disappeared over the years, but it’s right there where I left it.
“So did Mack. Would have been a real gearhead, if he could discipline himself enough to know what he was doing. But I tell you what, almost nothing made him as happy as a good tattoo machine.” I pull the old model out, then offer it to Drew. “Left his here when he skipped town,” I explain.
