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“That…” I narrowed my eyes as I took a seat on the bed next to where he lay.
Skins smiled shyly and lifted his hand. “I’m gonna let you guys have your space.”
I nodded, still stunned as I sat there, tracing the outline of the tattoo on Ham’s hip with my finger in disbelief that my artwork was actually on someone’s body.
Not just someone’s body.
His body.
The door to Ham’s room clicked closed, and we were alone. My eyes moved from the tattoo up to his eyes. He lay on the bed, looking up at me, his eyes watching me carefully as if he was waiting for my reaction, unsure of what it would be.
“I can’t believe you found it,” I whispered.
“I was a little confused at first, but I instantly knew it was yours,” he explained, sitting up in the bed so his gaze was level with mine. “You did it to keep calm until someone could find you, right?”
I cleared my throat. “You knew.”
“That you loved to draw?”
“No, not that I loved it. That it made me feel calm,” I explained, feeling tears burn my throat and eyes.
He reached out and brushed my hair behind my ear, allowing his hand to linger on my cheek. “There were days you would come in after school, looking like you were going to cry, tossing your backpack around,” he explained, smiling like it was a fond memory for him to see me agitated and annoyed. “Then you’d pull out your sketchbook and start with just a few lines, and instantly, it was like you were letting your worries out through your hand, out through each swipe across the page.”
He knew me.
He honestly knew me.
Drawing was my release, it was my escape and the way I found beauty.
I had no idea how long it was between when I crawled under that bed, up until Ham showed up—it could have been minutes, it could have been hours. That dove was the only thing that got me through and allowed me to keep some sort of semblance of sanity.
That, and him.
“You know,” I started, but had to clear my throat as I began to get choked up. “That was one of the scariest days of my life. Knowing someone could have hurt Hadley and Kev. That he could have taken me away. That he could have done God knows what.”
Ham shook his head. “I would nev—”
“Don’t say you wouldn’t let it happen,” I interjected instantly annoyed by how he tried to play it off. “Because in this life, you know it could. You know someone could try to hurt me. That someone could use me against you. That’s exactly why you tried to push me away.”
“Fine,” he responded, looking me directly in the eye. “Yeah, there could come a point where someone might try and hurt you. They might try and use you to get to me. They might be trying to hurt the club.”
My stomach twisted, and I climbed off the bed, taking a step back.
He followed instantly.
There was no running away anymore.
I moved. He moved.
I looked down at the tattoo that sat proudly on the lower part of his hip, a white dove in flight, its wings spread, its tail fanned out and dark shadows surrounding it. My work. On his body. His eyes followed mine, and he tugged his briefs low allowing the entire picture to show.
“Shit happens, Meyah. And in this life, that shit can be scary and sometimes deadly. But do you know what this is?” he challenged, pointing to the bird. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t exactly right. But it was something I did while hiding from a madman in order to keep myself sane.
“It’s a rough sketch,” I answered, but he shook his head.
“No, this is a promise that I will always find you. That I will always come for you. That no matter if you’re hiding under a bed, or halfway around the world, I will be there.”
And there it was.
