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Broken flesh and spilled blood, but I washere.
“Did covering the tat help?” he asked, seemingly out of the blue.
But I knew he’d probably been wanting to ask for a while.
“No,” I told him, honestly. “Not like it did for some others. Not like I hoped it would.”
“But you feel better… with everything?”
“Yeah,” I nodded, reaching across the car to where he had both hands gripped tight on the steering wheel. At the feeling of my touch, he relaxed, and immediately moved to entwine his fingers with mine.
No, having the tag covered was no great equalizer, not in the way I’d hoped.
But having him here, being connected to him again?
Well.
That was a different story entirely.
