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It took me a while, but I finally climbed out of the deep pool of grief and confusion to understand it simply wasn’t my fault. And when the understanding hit, it was so freeing. Because for years I wrestled with thinking the fault lay with Barrett and his psychopathy while at the same time questioning if it also lay with me. Did I let it happen? Did I fight hard enough? Scream loud enough. Run fast enough.
But the truth was plain and simple.
None of this was my fault.
The fault lay with Barrett.
He took what wasn’t his to take.
Because he was evil and vile.
Right through to the bone.
CHANCE
I left the clubhouse and visited Caleb at Sinister Ink. He was surprised to see me in his studio. Unlike my younger brothers, I didn’t have tattoos all over me. I only had a small SEAL team tattoo on the inside of my wrist and the date I joined the Navy on my left forearm.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
I pulled my T-shirt over my head and turned my back to him so he could see my scar. It was the first time he’d seen it. And the first time I’d ever shown anybody. He stood still, his vibrant eyes sparkling as he absorbed what he saw.
“Can you tattoo it?” I asked.
His brow creased. “Why?”
“Because I want it gone.”
He stood up and came over to get a better look. With him, I didn’t feel so exposed. He was the closest person in the world to me, and I knew there would be no pity there. No judgment. No repulsion.
“You can but I wouldn’t. Not yet anyway. It’s too fresh.” He studied it like a doctor would study a wound. “And there’s a lot to consider. The depth of the scar tissue. The possibility of nerve damage. Scar tissue holds onto the ink differently.”
“So that’s a no?” I said, pulling my T-shirt back on.
“Definitely not right now while it’s so new. And I’ll be honest, Brother, I’d be hesitant to do it in the future. But let me look into it.” He looked at me, trying to work out what was going on in my head. “Why do you want it gone?”
I raised a brow at him. “Wouldn’t you?”
“I don’t know. I guess it depends on what I went through to get it, I suppose.”
“I’m sick of the reminder,” I said. And then it happened. In a moment of weakness, I felt the emotion of the past year knock down a few of my barriers. I leaned against the tattoo bed, feeling the need to let some of the pain out to ease the pressure in my skull. The words fell out of my mouth before I could stop them. “It reminds me that I killed my girlfriend.”
Caleb’s eyes darted to mine. “What do you mean?”
“I was seeing a girl over there.” I let myself picture her in my head, and for the first time in a long time, thinking about her didn’t make me feel like a giant hole had been blown out of my chest. “We got close. I wasn’t in love with her, but close to it. Close enough that I thought about staying back after my tour was done and seeing where it went.”
Caleb looked shocked and sat down on his desk. “I didn’t know. What happened?”
I blew out a deep breath. “Turns out we were working for opposing sides.”
“She was a—”
“Yeah, she was one of the bad guys.”
Even to this day, I still couldn’t believe it. When I think about the time we spent together, sharing our dreams while we shared our bodies, it still seemed so surreal. I was trained to spot a threat a thousand yards away, yet I couldn’t even see it when it was lying right beside me in my bed. That part still ached. And I don’t know if I would ever forgive myself for that.
“I didn’t know until I saw her in my scope. Didn’t know until my commander was telling me to take the shot,” I explained.
“And did you?”
I thought about those last few seconds.
I thought about seeing her in my crosshairs and the sound of my commander’s voice in my ear, telling me to take the shot.
I thought about my bullet ripping open her chest and blowing her back three feet just as an explosion sent my world into a tailspin like a fucking tumbleweed.
“Yeah, I did.” I glanced down but then looked up. “I put a bullet in my girlfriend. Tell me, what kind of man does that make me?”
He stood up and came toward me. “It makes you a soldier. You did your job. You served your country.”
“I want to forget.”
If I forgot, then maybe I could move forward. Maybe then I wouldn’t run when a beautiful woman was beneath me. Kissing me. Wanting me.
