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Friends, women…
Now he has me waiting at home for him at night. And while I might cook, clean, and do everything I can to thank him for what he’s done for me, there are other needs I’m not fulfilling.
The thought of him out there getting his kicks with others threatens to rip me in two. But as much as I hate it, I know it must be happening.
Mav’s past with women is… public knowledge.
There’s no way he’s just… stopped now that he’s married.
I just wish he’d turn it on me, instead of having to go behind my back to get what he needs.
Unable to let it go again, I hop to my feet.
If this is all over and he no longer wants me here, then he’ll have to tell me.
I might not want to live a life without him now, but I’m also not hanging around here with a man who doesn’t want me. Even if he does treat me better than any other I’ve met.
Emotion tickles the back of my nose as I follow him toward his bedroom.
His door isn’t fully closed, only kicked to, and I use that as an excuse to invite myself in.
With my hand against the solid wood and my heart in my throat, I push it open and step inside.
The second my eyes land on his back, I gasp in shock.
“Shit,” he hisses, quickly spinning around and hiding the artwork from me. “I’m sorry,” he blurts.
My eyes narrow, and my brows pinch.
“Y-you’re sorry for getting a tattoo? You don’t need my permission. It’s your body. Your skin.”
“I know. I just?—”
“Can I see?” I ask, giving him an out because he clearly doesn’t want to discuss it.
“No,” he blurts, making me rear back.
I try not to look hurt, but from the way his expression falls, I don’t think I manage it.
“It’s not done yet,” he explains. “I still need a couple more sessions. Then you can look.” His eyes beg me to understand, to agree.
“Okay,” I say simply. “It looks great, though, from what I saw.”
A smile curls at his lips and instantly, I relax.
“Your tattoo was hiding scars, wasn’t it?” I ask, tracing the edge of the hawk’s wingspan that ends on his shoulders.
With a sigh, Mav hangs his head, the muscles of his back rippling with tension.
“I never wanted you to know,” he confesses.
“Mav,” I whisper, my eyes flooding with tears.
Wrapping my hand around his upper arm, I turn him around to face me.
“They punished you for protecting me. For marrying me.” It’s not a question. It doesn’t need to be. I already know it’s true.
“Alana,” he breathes. “I’d take whatever punishment they have time and time again if I knew it would keep you safe.”
