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She takes a step forward, and another, until she’s finally,finallystanding in front of me. The wind changes direction, and a whiff of her honeysuckle scent wafts over me. I inhale deeply, and my muscles unwind. I missed her more than I realized. I missed the feel of her skin against mine, the swell of her hips as I spoon her at night, the sound of her voice, the spark in her eyes when she's animated, the curve of her lips—my favorite kind of curve about her—when she smiles.
She stares at my ring finger, and a stunned expression flits across her features. "That’s— That’s—" She swallows. "You have a wedding band—"
"Tattooed around my ring-finger."
She draws in a sharp breath. Then, as if unable to help herself, she bends and peers at the design. "Is that—?" She shakes her head. "No, it can’t be."
"It is."
"It can’t be my name," she says.
"It is," I repeat.
She shakes her head. "You tattooed my name around your ring finger?"
I allow myself a small smile. "It’s the least I could do. I wanted something more permanent than metal."
"Did it hurt?" Her forehead creases. "Will it impede your ability to play hockey?"
"It didn’t hurt enough, and if it does, it'll be worth it."
"Rick…" She raises her gaze to mine. "Why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?"
"Why are you trying so hard?" She reaches out and touches the still-new tattoo. A whisper of pain flickers over my nerve-endings. It adds to the agony of having her so close, yet not being able to touch her. I will not touch her; not until she’s forgiven me. It’s the least I can do after what I put her through.
"I haven’t even started."
She traces her name etched into my skin between the honeysuckle flowers.
"My favorite flower," she whispers.
"It’s what you smell of. Honeysuckle and hope and the spaces between things that matter most, the light between the stars, the heat in the circle of a fire that burns brighter with each day. You’re my dream, my desire, the one thing I will always want, the one thing I will never forget, the one thing that occupies my mind day and night and in the time between. I want to wake up with you and fall asleep with my body curled around yours. I want to hear you laugh, make you smile, see the tears of joy shine in your eyes. I want your everything. I want to be your everything. Keep you safe from the world. Keep you happy. Make your desires come true. I want you in my life."
Her lips quiver, and her chin wobbles. Her breath comes out in little gusts of emotion. She feels the intensity of my words, knows I’m serious, understands what I’m trying to convey. She does. She must. She has to forgive me, even though I’ll never forgive myself.
Her features soften. She seems to melt in my direction, and I open my arms to gather her close, when… She straightens. A tear runs down her cheek. "You had me, Rick."
68
Gio
"He tattooed your name into his skin?" Mira side-eyes me.
We’re in the main VIP room overlooking the home rink of The London Ice Kings. It’s the finals where they take on the Manchester Enforcers. The stands are full, the crowds steadily growing over the last few hours. The sound of their excited cheering echoes off the walls of the space. The atmosphere is electric, and even sealed off as I am in this room, the exhilaration seeps through the glass walls.
"Well, aren’t you impressed by it?" she prompts.
I shrug.
"Not even a little bit?"
"Maybe a little, but it’s a stunt to get my attention, no doubt."
"And he succeeded," she cries.
"Whose side are you on?" I frown as the opposing team glides onto the ice.
