Page 27 of Inking My Crush


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“Forever?” I say, breaking off the kiss.

It’s hard, but I must know if he means what I hope he does. What I pray he does. Maybe I misheard. Maybe I’m still at Kelly’s house, asleep, sinking into dreams of Brian as I have countless times before.

“When I came home,” he says, sliding his hand up my body, cradling my face, his palm warm with love, “I knew I had to have you for life. I knew it the second I saw you. It’s unfair that you’re Roger’s daughter, but I can’t fight it, and you’re not running…”

“No way,” I say. “Never. I couldn’t run from this.”

“But is that because…”

“Of the crush?” I fill in, and he nods. I go on, “Can you blame me? It’s true. I’ve wanted this for a long time. I wanted it when I was a kid, but listen, okay? You have to hear this. I’m not a kid anymore. This is way more than a crush.”

He leans back, his eyes flitting over my shoulder. A dump truck slowly passes us, moving at a speed where the people inside can see what we’re doing here.

“You need to really think about this. Not just notebook stuff. Really think about it.”

“Okay.”

“This means I’ll make you my wife one day.”

“Yes.”

“It means I’ll claim your young, curvy, perfect virgin body. I’m going to get you pregnant. You’re going to give me a family.”

“I don’t see the problem.”

“It means you will never touch another man.”

I lay my hand on his chest. “Only if that means you won’t touch another woman either…”

He places his hand atop mine. “Never. I don’t want anybody else. I tried dating for a while when I was younger, but it never worked out. Before you, I began to accept that it would never happen for me.”

I don’t say what we both must think on some level: that it might not work out. There’s a chance—a high one, honestly—that Mom and Dad will bring an end to this.

“Nobody else will understand,” I murmur. “The second they hear that I used to call you Uncle Brian, they’ll think we’re weird.”

“I don’t give a damn about other people,” he snarls. “Except for Roger and Janine, everybody else can go to hell. All I care about is you, knowing you really mean this.”

I drop my hand from his chest. The garbage collectors are moving closer to us, near enough to be able to see everything we’re doing.

“I mean it,” I tell him. “Don’t you see how perfect this is? I’ve obsessed over you, and not to stroke my ego, but now it seems you’re obsessing over me.”

“There’s no seems,” he says fiercely. “I am. I have been ever since I laid eyes on you.”

“Then you have to trust me, okay? Give me the benefit of the doubt. I can make my own decisions.”

“I know.”

“Do you, though? I’m not a kid.”

“I know that,” he grunts, “but that doesn’t mean this will be easy. We’ll still have to tell your dad.”

I swallow and sit back. There’s acid burning through me as if future pain is bursting into the present.

“We can’t,” I whisper.

“How else do you think this ends?” Brian says. “Roger and Janine deserve to know. You said you were sure, Evie.”

“Yeah, but the, uh, the tattoo isn’t even done yet.”

He smirks. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s how this all started. It feels like bad luck, telling him before it’s done.” I sigh. “Go on. Tell me that’s the weakest excuse you’ve ever heard. Tell me it’s me being a big scaredy cat, that’s all.”

“I’m not excited to tell him either.”

Brian’s cell phone starts to ring. He takes it out. Then his eyes light up.

“Who is it?” I ask.

“My CIA contact, the one I asked to look into Keith.” He answers, holding the phone to his ear. “Right. Yeah. Good. Yeah. Send everything to me. Thanks for this. I owe you one.”

When he hangs up, there’s something dangerous in his expression. It’s like he’s become a wild animal ready to go on the hunt.

“Keith has been siphoning money from his criminal uncle. Keith’s the runt of the litter. He’s got no sway in that world. If his uncle learns he’s been stealing from him, he’s screwed, and I’ve got the proof—bank transfers to offshore accounts coming from the Never Say Never fund.”

“What are you going to do?” I ask.

“Pay him a visit. Make the prick apologize for what he said to you.”

“It’s a lot of effort to—”

“Nothing’s too much effort to protect your honor,” he snarls. “You belong to me. Nobody gets to insult you and get away with it. Nobody gets to make you feel worthless when you’re worth everything.”

I glow under the force of his words, the devotion in his eyes, and the rage in him. “When will you go?”

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