Lo huffs out a breath, adorably flustered. “Seriously? I can’t take you anywhere. You two are grounded from double dates for the foreseeable future.”
Iver darts me an amused glance and I can’t help but giggle, resting my hand on top of his thigh.
“Don’t be dramatic, Lo,” he scolds, grinning smugly. “Besides, who else are you gonna double date with? Madd would probably terrorize the waitstaff, so he and Sloane are out.”
She huffs another flustered sigh and Javi leans closer, tucking her hair behind her ear and pressing a kiss to her temple. “Let’s just eat,Amor. You can give your brother the third degree later.”
Lo nods begrudgingly, smoothing her napkin over her lap and reaching for a piece of bruschetta, while I turn to look at my mate. His eyes lock with mine, the two of us sharing a conspiratorial glance that makes my heart swell.
Less than a month ago, this man was a stranger– but he’s since crashed into my heart, tearing down my walls and obliterating my doubts. There’s no longer any question in my mind whether the two of us can make this work.
I’m falling hopelessly in love with Iver Anderson, and I trust him to catch me.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
the cover-up
IVER
“So where is this place, again?” Chey asks from the passenger seat as I navigate the winding forest road that connects the six-pack territories.
“Norbury,” I reply. “Close to that Mexican restaurant we went to with Lo and Javi, if you wanna grab some food after.”
She shrugs, kicking her feet up on the dashboard. “I’m not that hungry, but I wouldn’t turn down another one of their margaritas,” she muses, flickering me a side-eyed glance as she twirls a golden strand of hair around her finger. “Or we could just do tequila shots.”
My face screws up in a grimace. “How about I just puke instead, cut out the middleman?”
Chey barks a laugh, reaching across the center console to rest a hand on my forearm. “Fine, you can have a beer. And I’ll do my best not to have a panic attack in the bathroom this time.”
“I’ll try not to go in for any unsolicited hugs,” I vow, winking.
She rolls her eyes with a soft giggle.
I’m glad we’ve gotten to the point where we can laugh about these things. As rocky and uncertain as this all felt at the start, we’ve hit a stride of comfortable familiarity with one another. It feels good to finally just relax and be ourselves.
I ease my foot down onto the brake as we come up to the turn-off for Norbury, hanging a left to enter the territory. This is Alpha Chase’s neck of the woods, and his Beta just happens to be the best tattoo artist in the entire six-pack alliance. I’ve been meaning to make an appointment to get the shading on my chest piece touched up, but something Chey said the other day gave me a reason to finally book one.
‘I hate looking in the mirror and seeing that mark.’
“This shouldn’t even take an hour, but I reserved two just in case you wanted to get something done,” I say when we hit the edge of town, glancing over at Chey tentatively. “I still stand by what I said before, that your scars are beautiful, but if you don’t like looking at them… well, Cal is a really talented artist, and he does great cover-up work.”
She blinks back at me, pursing her lips while I hold my breath for her reply.
This is a tough topic to broach. I don’t want her to think I’ve got a problem with her scars, because I never have. By virtue of them being on her body, they’re beautiful in my eyes, just like her. The problem is, I can’t seem to get Chey to see herself the way I do. The thought of her hating her own reflection kills me, so I’ve been racking my brain for the past few days to come up with some way I can fix it. If she doesn’t want my mark to cover that one, then maybe she’ll go for a tattoo.
“Does it hurt?” she questions, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.
“What, a tattoo?”
She dips her chin in a nod.
“It depends on your pain tolerance,” I murmur, quickly realizing that this maynothave been a great idea. If pain is one of her triggers, the burn of the tattoo needle could send her spiraling into a panic. “Liquid silver has to be added to the ink, to get around the whole rapid healing thing,” I say. “It burns, butit’s not unbearable. And if you can get past the first few minutes, you start to become numb to it.”
Chey nods slowly, her brows drawing together as she seemingly thinks it over.
“It’s completely up to you, and you don’t have to decide now,” I reassure. “I just wanted you to know it’s an option.”
She chews on her lower lip again, dropping her gaze to her lap as I swing into the small parking lot in front of The Muse. Cal Conway named his tattoo studio for his mate, the logo on the awning a pencil drawing of her profile. Claiming a spot and shifting the gear into park, I look over at Chey, struggling to read her expression as she gazes out the windshield at the tattoo shop.
